Cheated by the weather forecast, we struck forth for the Dales regardless. Friends of easy company, skinny tyres and grubby bar tape, a brace of tea stops and just enough climbing to stay warm. Well, I thought so, anyway.
Bimbling home alone at dusk (the friends living on the other side of a substantial hill) there are curlews looping over the fields and the sort of light which hints at summer evenings to come whilst sending you deeper into your collar. It's not been a fast 70 miles but that doesn't matter, not at all; a lazy average means more time for catching up and being cheerful, feeling lucky and loved in equal measure, more time for coffee and cake, the things that sometimes matter and mean more than going fast.
A quietly good day.