totes amazeballs (as I believe they say)


Pete and I nipped (or popped) over to Beverley this week, to pick up a couple of things from the Lakeland store.  We parked at the top of Wednesday market, photographed above, but on the other side. Strictly speaking, it’s for pedestrians, but there are always cars there, and we knew we wouldn’t be long.

We popped (or nipped) into Boyes for a quick gander on the way back to the car, then Pete whizzed off to Marks for something (oh, OK, then – for a wee). And as I loitered outside the fishmongers, I saw him.

Cue shrieking violins, Psycho style. Only a blimmin’ traffic warden. With notebook in one hand, and pen in the other. “Is this your car?”, he quoth, and I confessed it was, and said  “there were lots of cars here when we parked”. He pointed out there weren’t now, probably because they saw him coming. And then he asked if I were about to move, and I said “oh yes”, and he said “off you go, then”. Boggle.

Thankfully, I had a car key, and got in as slowly as I could, as Pete was still, presumably, in the M&S facilities, but he hove into view quite quickly, and I gesticulated madly. And we made our escape!

And I thought the days of nice parking wardens were gone …

to Beverley and (almost) back

I know we said we’d go to the flatlands of Holderness yesterday, but as the Beverley Festival was on, we thought we’d ride over there and take a look. National Cycling Route 66 goes through Hull and Beverley, so it seemed a sensible way to go. Round here might be flat, but my word, the wind blows, and coming out of Cottingham was like being in top gear (no, not Top Gear).

Hmmm … the cycle track crosses a railway line. Behind barred gates. Barred locked gates. We’d already gone a couple of miles out of our way by missing signposts, so “I’ll climb over it”, I said to Pete. He looked a little taken aback, as this time last year, I had difficulty climbing a footpath stile, but I did it, and we lifted the bikes over. Twice (once each side of the line). After that the route became very rough, which did my knee in a bit, and a bit further on, almost at Beverley, the road was so narrow that I didn’t feel comfortable riding at all, so I pushed the bike for a mile or so. By the time we arrived in Bev, we’d done 11.7 miles, and I was bushed.

There wasn’t a lot going on in the town, or if there was we missed it. We saw some Morris Dancers, followed by Appalachian ones, and there was an open mike in the Sun (where we stopped for a (half pint of) beer and a sandwich), then we set off for home again. This time, we used the main roads most of the way, and that was a bit scary too, as I’m not used to traffic, so I rode on the pavement.

By the time we got back to the city I was absolutely knackered, and my knee was hurting, and somehow I actually fell off the bloody bike – still don’t know how. I didn’t do any harm to myself apart from some bruises, and the bike is fine apart from a bit of plastic trim from the front gears, which Pete has glued back on. I was pretty shaken though, and we were only a mile or so from home, so he pedalled off and fetched the car and bike rack, and picked me up.

I decanted myself into a hot bath, then had a lazy evening in my dressing gown, with tea and toast and Marmite. Bit battered this morning, but not too bad – glad I was wearing jeans and cycling gloves, though!