Like Corbett does Barker, as Zeppelin did Bonzo. As Rab C. Nesbitt will his sartorial garment of choice, as Gordon Brown does a double digit opinion poll lead, as English cricket does a victory (heck, at this rate as English cricket does a wet afternoon in the pavilion waiting for the umpire to declare a draw), I've missed riding a bike these past two weeks. The foulest of weather, the busiest of schedules and the impracticability of motorcycling the 220 miles that lie between home and office like a commuter's chasm has meant that the Ducati has slumbered under its red shroud, a hibernating Gruffalo alone with its red metal dreams.
So I'm hardly cheered by the fact that tomorrow's forecast is represented by the BBC as a marker pen cloud and a big, fat, coal-black raindrop. Anyone fancy trading a bike for an ark?*
*Does Ducati make arks?
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1 comment:
Ahh bless! Check out the Met Office site - postcode check - get up at a reasonable hour and you my get a run out!
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