...and going home.
The dark winter stretching out like, well, a very stretched out long dark thing. Lights on, thermals out, treble carbohydrate intake.
Doesn't help that in the space of thirty minutes yesterday, I survived one incredibly close shave at the hands of a teenage Citroen driver (squealing tyres, shocked face, and one of those ever-decreasing defensive circles where you try to turn hard enough to avoid going over the bonnet, whilst not turning so tightly that you end up going under the wheels, and just watch the wing mirror/passenger door coming closer, and closer, and closer...), one attempted heel piercing by a rabid Jack Russell (who then got taken for a nice long walk), and one enthusiastically intentioned but thankfully mis-located punch thrown by a drunken cycle lane promenader. All on the way to a nightride where Oli bounced off a badger and I realised that 80psi in cross tyres does nothing for freshly knitted ribs.
And then I got hit by a cyclist on the way home this evening.
ffs.
jenn.
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