Well at least I’ve been able to salvage something and unlike my marriage, where the silence has been deafening and I’ve just been written off, with my bike I’ve been inundated with documents, call centre conversations, discussions with a stream of people behind glass, who profess to be customer service centric but aren’t…yet I’ve finally got back on the road.
North Wales yesterday, just me and my bike.
Great Orme is a large rocky outcrop. It’s home to a Bronze age mine, a funicular tramway and these…
Tea was taken in a converted railway carriage in Bets Y Coed, along with a salad with cheese,
“What sort of cheese?”.
“Welsh cheese”,
“Yes but what sort?”
“Dunno, it’s just Welsh”.
Ah national pride and staff that can’t give a toss.
“I’ll have that then please, but can you add extra Welshness”.
Great Orme has switchbacks that are tighter than a bankers tax return, not many of them, but tight enough to require a stop and three point GSA turn when confronted by a car coming up, as you go down. Pay a pound to the man then on to the rock face road that sinuously hangs above the sea, in a tight one way road of contours. Again, as good as anywhere I’ve ridden, just not very much of it. Britain is compact, which is good as you can comprehend it and bad because it doesn’t challenge your boundaries of comprehension in the way vastness, or extremes, do.
On the summit of the Orme is a Bronze age copper mine…surely that will be a copper age mine then…(I know…just playing).
Good to be back riding, I will sleep the deep sleep of the satisfied and pleasantly tired.