Don’t Know Service

… and you’re back in the room. The sleepy hedgehog slumbered in his burrow while changes in the mighty signage of the Internet forgot where he was. Luckily my customer driven, pro-active, automatic fault diagnostic system kicked in when a reader complained of having to get some work done.

The terrifying complexity of the Domain Name Service, which left old hedgy in cyberspace limbo, seems to have unknotted to the point of a fairly reliable connection. Which gives me license to ramble in my generally unreliable fashion.

Yesterday was another first in an increasing number of lasts. A final evening ride in Chilterns full of woody singletrack, dappled light, cheeky trails and a last descent shrouded in darkness. It was a perfect way to sign off from five years wheeling about in this protected pocket of mostly unspoilt beauty.

It was also a lesson in what it really means to be race fit. Not me – I was off the back searching for a coughed up lung – but my three riding buddies. Lordy, one second it’d be all easy pedalling and pleasant conversation before trail voltage would short circuit these aliens into electric fury. And 2/3rds of that continguent were gapping my arse-hanging-out person with only a single gear.

And – once it was done and beer was drunk – it was odd saying goodbye. Typical blokes of course, no eye contact, a promise to meet up at the next big event, talk of getting together at the epicentre of cabbages, all that stuff. And same again this weekend, the rest of my riding friends are congregating on the North Downs to make sure I leave the county. The way this is all ending, I may have to write a speech.

This is my final commute into London from Buckinghamshire. It’s a beautiful morning and not one I really wanted to see from the inside of a car. Of course, our last Chiltern weekend shall be spent mowing lawns between rain showers and trying to remember it’s stuff in the boxes, children on the outside.

I confidently expect more dead air over the next two weeks, after a number of painful conversations around tempoary broadband and 3G coverage. “3G? We once has the Bootleg Bee-Gees play in Hereford, that any use to you?”

What have I let myself in for?

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