Apparently, I’ve bought another bike frame.
So the phoney war for the Tool Wall is nearly at an end. My workbench is strewn with expensive cycling trinkets and the smell of fear pervades the current two wheeled incumbents, one of which is destined for its’ final journey in a bike box, via EBay or possibly a skip.
I expect Carol to perform a Rooney like injury on my testicles when she finds out. Actually I’ve already told here and even if I hadn’t, the sight of our long suffering postie sweating under yet another box of bike bling would probably have tipped her off.
All I’m missing is the frame. This is currently languishing at one of ParcelFarce’s warehouses, probably stacked neatly under a couple of cars. Assuming delivery happens before I’m too ancient to ride, a picture shall likely follow. Of the bike you understand, not anything bruised in the nether regions.
This is skipping over the possibility that nothing goes wrong with the build. I’m confident tho “ the headset hammer of doom is positioned ready for action, and the tool wall houses all manner of tools for reducing expensive bicycle components to rather less valuable swarf. I mean with my reputation, what could go wrong?
I’m going to write something about our football team’s ignoble exit from the World cup but the memory is too fresh and too painful. Sorry, the hangover, that’s the really painful bit.