The weekend had been warm and sunny, and with the promise of spring came the feeling that anything was possible, even cycling up the 1<5 hill home from work. So. On my first trip of the season I was pleased I managed to ride even just half way up the hill.  After walking the rest I remounted – but  my legs were a blur as I pedalled nowhere, thanks to my chain coming off.   With a road clear of traffic, I coolly put down one leg, but lost my balance.  I was relieved there was no-one around; I’d get away with it.  But as I came to rest in a tangle of spokes and cycle clips, I caught sight of a cruising police car.  It stopped, of course, to check on the prostrate amateur cyclist.  I got to my feet, waved at my uniformed audience, rolling my eyes and coming over all Marcel Marceau, and turned to come face to face with a concerned householder coming out to administer first aid to ‘the bird on a bike having a heart attack’.

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