Time, wrote Douglas Adams, is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. And when you think about it, the New Year is a pretty arbitrary way to slice up time. The solstice makes more sense – an actual, objective moment of change – the shortest day, the longest night. But the difference between 31 Dec and 1 Jan, other than a lot of fireworks and the chances of a hangover?
Well, this year it was the difference between endless, incessant rain and blue skies.
And when the sky is blue we ride motorcycles.
It’s about six weeks since I’ve been out on a bike, because of a lot of boring and complicated things including a left knee the size of a football. It’s longer than that since the MZ has been out. It did very well, though the Africa Twin and Trevor the Triumph were rather champing at the bit as we hit our maximum speed of about 48mph up a steep bit of the A5.
As the Wingman is now in the beyond, Badass Pooh Bear has taken his place in the chair. He is less motivated by bacon and seems phlegmatic in the face of rain.
We ate bacon sandwiches cooked on a Coleman stove and talked about plans for the year ahead. I cannot think of many better ways to spend New Year’s Day.
And as for resolutions? I am resolved this year to do more of the things that bring me joy.