Bobbing along...

Bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briiiiiny sea!

I have no idea but I've had that song from Bedknobs and Broomsticks in my head all day. I must have been humming it out loud without realising for some time as a colleague's just turned and asked if it was from the film.

I'll be away for the rest of the week in Switzerland so this will be the last post for a while (put away that bugle!).

I'm going out on a high as I'm actually very proud of myself after the weekend, when I cycled to Edgware to have lunch with the journalism girls. Having never ever ventured that way before I was prepared with an AtoZ and a vague idea of which direction in which to head.

I pulled over three times o check I was going the right way and had a thoroughly enjoyable, if hilly, pootle. I was the first to arrive at the destination by a considerable length and had brought not only clothes to change into but pressies as well.

After a delicious lunch and some juicy gossip I changed back into my gear and cycled home. My weird memory means I often forget what I've had for breakfast by brunch but I have a photographic memory for routes. Despite never having been in that direction before I got home without checking my map once, without making an error and 20 minutes quicker than the outward journey.

I was home safe and considerably damp, had a hot shower and was snuggled up with Mr Handsome and The Fat One when Mr Weenie arrived home from rugby half an hour later. My legs were pain-free and I wasn't particularly tired. Having checked TfL and seen the horrendous traffic on the bus route I would have taken I knew it could have taken up to two hours to get home by public transport.

I would think about padded undershorts the next time as it took about an hour of pootling on badly maintained roads but other than that it was lovely and far more intellectually stimulating than a couple of bus rides.

What on earth did I do without my bike? How did I survive? I hope only that I'll never have to find out.