“You made hard work of that hill this morning.”
“I was going my usual pace, you were just going faster.”
“I was putting some effort in, that’s all.”
“Well I was trying to put some effort in too, and I was being creative and making up a song, do you want to hear it?”
My wheels are a-spinning
My tyres are a-singing
As I struggle up Blue String Hill.
I’m pedalling like crazy
No chance of being lazy
If I don’t want to be on my bill...
“Just stop right there you daft woman and keep up with me. And don’t go through any puddles, I washed your bike yesterday.”
I resisted temptation and missed out on whizzing through the puddles. Not like me at all to do what I’m told.
(NB: I christened this particular climb Blue String Hill after some baler twine unravelled for miles along the road a couple of years back. You can still see the blue twine embedded in the tarmac.)