So then there was cycling. Balancing your entire body weight on a piece of foam infused metal the size of a small rodent!
But it gets better. It is not motorised, good grief no! It is powered by you moving from side to side on a metal seat whilst pedalling until your lungs explode. After the first 10 minutes you have lost all feeling of where your body meets the bicycle. You would endure less pain if you were kicked repeatedly in the face for a day, plus you would still be able to walk afterwards NORMALLY!
Then why in the name of all that it pure, pain free and pretty would I put myself through this? Because a 12 year old angel used the magic phrase, 'Please Daddy'
On the positive side I didn't fall or swear at any old woman or dogs, I didn't spit straight ahead and forget that spit on a bicycle has a boomerang effect and I made Nicole very happy. Her pink bike is her pride and joy.
In my opinion, bicycles should have motors, bucket seats and a roof, oh hang on that's already been invented! Its called a motor car!
All in all it was a good weekend with my girls and now I have 3 days of work before I head to the Mother City to see what needs to be seen and hug those who need to be hugged. A good weekend for a birthday and a good place to spend it. I will shout at the mountain and wave my fist at the slow waiter and sip ale from the lips of a cold bottle and smile. I will ask irrelevant questions like 'Is this fish fresh' and 'if they called onion rings, does anyone answer them'? I will insist on french fries as chips have the sublime ability to cause mild to severe flatulence and to ask for my salad on the side, the other side. And that's just breakfast.
I am excited to see old friends again and laugh together. Memories are like a good red wine that tastes better as it ages and must be shared to be properly enjoyed.
Till next time
Good night.
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