I am at home “under the doctor” after coming down with a chest infection. I blame being coughed on by a small child but it might also just be the inevitable consequence of trying to do everything.
Since I have no energy to ride, I have been doing a little time travel instead. Like @HerLifeStory, I am an enthusiastic diary-keeper. When they’re full, I chuck them in a box, and very rarely open it.
Many people tell me the past should be left in peace. Like dogs, we should kick over the shit and move on. But I think that, maybe, if I could retrace my steps, I could avoid the detour through the woods which ends in the guts of the bad wolf awaiting rescue from the woodcutter. As a good feminist, I believe that I must stand on my own two feet, and then the involvement of a man who is good with a chopper can only be a bonus.
So I look back, to the days when I was taking on the world and having a brilliant time. And some things at least haven’t changed. On New Year’s Day 1987 I was working out how many shifts at £7.70 for 10 hours it would take before I could afford a bike.
When I did get 700 quid together I bought a car. So there’s one step down the wrong path! But I have my bikes now, and when I look at that (incredibly random) list, I’ve already covered a third of it. Some on a bike, some on the train, some in a Ford Capri and one on a yacht.
Though I’m really not sure why I wanted to go to Kenya, or Singapore. Maybe I need to go and look, then I might remember.
transport of delight 