To watch those cycling men
They marched themselves up Blacker Hill
And marched back down again.
And when they were up, they were up
(to their necks in lycred thighs)
And when they were down, they were down
(in the Red Lion drinking cider)
And when they were only half way up
They were neither up nor down.
And a jolly time was had by all. The cyclists streamed by, undeterred by the gradient of the hill. A helicopter hovered overhead. A dozen or so police motorbikes sped by, lights flashing, sirens screeching, and like a single body, a mass of competitors, peddling like no tomorrow, whooshed by. Several support vehicles carrying spare bicycles followed on, then it was over. Over for us that is, the lovely lycra men had miles to go to reach the finishing line in Ilkley. David and I sat in the pub and watched the rest of the race on the television before walking home. I wouldn't mind a bike, but I prefer to walk up hills, and we seem to have done quite a bit of that lately. Where will it end?
So, that was my day. I hope yours was as enjoyable. I can recommend a walk through Worsbrough woods, the bluebells are stunning and there is a plethora of wildlife. It looks like it's going to be a sunny bank holiday weekend, so make the most of it. I shall be in the garden reading a few poems. By the way, I have completed a final edit of my book, Higgs Bottom, and we are hoping to have it up on Kindle before too long.
Talk again soon,
Love and hugs,