A mixed bag of a day today, if there ever were one, in the bewildering world of Pottering.
A fair assemblage of members grouped in the charming spot of Gawsworth Church to partake in Dot’s little sally around this seemingly untroubled locality, where life seems to be more productive in the ancient graveyard, than out there on the bare pavements- that is until the Potters arrive.
The assemblage soon dispersed though; some in the opposite direction to the leader’s choosing, and several many minutes before: they were shuffling you see and didn’t want to be cought-up in the melee of the start.
Turbo Pete, on being wise, also decided to go a few minutes earlier, thougbegin in the same direction as the leader; this allowing his troublesome hamstring gradually warm-up, so by the time the troop had arrived everything would have been purring nicely......
Axel arrived in the start on his old mountain bike: he’s been having problems with his left calf muscle just lately, so is feeling quite sorry for himself. He thought it best to give the injury rest and let the bottom take the strain, and what better than placing the butt on the bike. It didn’t take too long though to realise that the butt’s not as tough as it used to be. However, all thoughts of that sore calf evaporated within a few miles.
Winter isn’t a favourable season for riding one’s bike, especially when the temp’s hovering just above freezing, when fine gear and a reasonable bike are essential under such conditions. Unfortunately, one can select the wrong gear and choose something not quite right for the occasion. Needless to say, this happened to Axel today, and well before the end of his ride, by which time his hands, and feet, suddenly complained in a manner only a feeble mind could understand. Back home it took many gulps of warm tea and so-gentle rubbing for the numbness to wear-off!
It was said, Grant became detached from the main group sometime early on the run: reason being only he could say, but the word’s about that something was troubling him: Grant, ever the mystic, appears to transgress within his surroundings whenever it takes his fancy, so, perhaps, it was one of those days.
One hears he arrived back at the Fairway’s all in one piece and ready for the goodies- just as the rest were leaving?