Still Dreaming

Sunny days continue, and after a marathon household shopping spree this morning my attention returned to the bike.

Now, yesterday when I returned home I found that lovely Dave had indeed left something for my bike tyres, a marvellous thing. A natty little box, with cables & a power point and dials & knobs & everything but no sign of anything like the bits needed (in my humble eyes) to pump up tyres. Bemused I turned it around and poked about a bit but concluded that Dave (who, to be honest, could also be called gadget man) had left me a bit of a puzzle.

My husband asked why on earth I wasn't using our bike pump. He lives here, he knows what the shed looks like, this was a daft question, until he added that my son had it last week. So I phoned my son (he enjoys such a wonderful social life that I never see him) and he denied all knowledge. After much to-ing & fro-ing he did remember (goldfish memory - runs in the family) and the tyres were sorted.

Feeling sociable, I walked downown with the bike and my husband, leaving him off for a beer before going to a little Vintage shop nearby. I Told the girl in the shop, but by the third "oh, brilliant" I realised that she wasn't really listening as she packed up the china plates I had bought.

Further down the road I called in on a jewellery shop, but she said she couldn't help; however she did listen as I Told her about Homeopathy for Health in Africa.

I then mounted the bike to come home, only to find the rusty chain was off. After much jiggling I refitted it, but that still wasn't enough, so with oily hands and a furrowed brow I walked the bloomin' thing to my friends house - who found it absolutely hilarious that I had ended up taking my bike for a walk. It really is a knackered old heap .