Because if it is, I am ready for the part of Grumpy the dwarf. I am basically method acting the little fella 24 hours a day.
This morning I found myself in the unusual position of not wanting to get off the train. Normally, my modus operandi is to be leaning on the doors desperate to escape from the sweaty tin can full of properly odd people.
But today, mentally beaten by the drumming of the rain on the carriage roof, I could hardly bring myself to waterproof up and venture out. The train had already been delayed due to unidentified objects on the line which I took to be Monday morning suicide victims unable to stomach another week of pissing rain.
One the cleaning staff started to stare and their were whispered conversations about informing the station manager, I grudgingly rotated still moist arse into a standing position and trudged wearily onto the platform. True to form, the rain increased from bloody annoying to gopping wet as I wheeled out of the station. The humidity ensures that you’re wet on both sides of your rain jacket, and one arrives at work both a little flustered and partially cooked.
Last weekend, the optimistic four drove a few hundred miles to Wales in the forlorn hope of some dryish riding. Saturday was warmish, the rain held off but the trails were still excitingly soggy. And I use the word exciting rather than bowel scrunchingly terrifying as I don’t want to be labelled a total wimp.
Especially since the trails/rivers were being lightly bashed by my hardtail. My body was more brutally bashed and by the end of the final run, I was ready to lie down in a sandy stream and wait for some passing angel to dispense alcohol. It was fun is a happy to still be alive at the end kind of way but next time I’m bringing the talent compensator. And based on my crappy riding this time around, it has some work to do.
We didn’t ride Sunday what with the two inches of rain falling in the night, the 8/8ths cloud cover, the howling wind and barely double digit temperatures. Instead I went home and was rained on there instead while operating the immortal electric lawnmower.
My shoulder is getting worse, I’m having to pay someone to explain why our roof leaks in all sorts of interesting ways. That gives me the chance to can pay someone else to line their pocket attempting to sue the original builder, who has taken the attitude got your cash, don’t give a shit. Added to this is the hated, never changing weather forecast predicts next weeks holiday will be spent inside or on the roof to evade rising water levels.
Is it any wonder I’m grumpy? And looking round I’m not alone.
Perspective is the thing though. Exactly a year ago. I had just smashed up my knee and then spent most of the following week in Hospital. It was not an experience I ever want to repeat although, one could reasonably argue, riding is the Summer of 2007 is pretty shit and “ at least – it’d be warm and dry in Accident and Emergency.