The feeling of mental limbo never really left me this weekend. There was this great big HONC sized hole into which I kept throwing stuff; yet while my body was amusing itself with adequate distractions, my mind was still wheeling away in the Cotswolds.

And while I did consider a 48 hour full on sulk and grump, it seemed a shame to waste two days of fine weather, and a family that’s not seen me as much as it probably should lately. Although on Saturday I abandoned them again to wind out mental tension in big hills while crashing small gliders.

I even manged to fly the new, fast one which, being German designed, had a perfectly logical build process as long as one remembered to adopt the correct “installation position“. Being English, I’d wandered off the precise instructions to practice the art of wingtip painting. Practice being what I needed, as everyone within a five mile blast radius of the spray tin is now calling me “Mr Overspray“.

The tail – especially bad – looks as if I’ve spatchcocked a gerbil, such was the red splatter effect of the over enthusiastic paint dribbler. It still flew very well – even if I didn’t – although the last landing crash ripped the nose off. An arrival I am now thinking of as “The Michael Jackson”

The obstacle course I built for the kids on Sunday lasted all the time it took for them to become bored with it. So ten minutes later, I harvested some wood for my now insulated timbered erection*, and built an eight inch lip for the pair of them to roll over.

Which they both did rather well although Verbal decided – as she is nearly 10 and therefore knows everything – that she’d ignore my patient instruction to stand up, pedals level as she dropped off. Still at the end of an hour, it was her with the sore bottom and me with the knowing smile. Random just nicked her sisters’ bike and mosied on over with a look of not oft seen concentration.

I had to have a go. Obviously. Normally any photo of me riding clashes terribly with my own internal image of trail God. This one bucks the trend in no way whatsoever, but at least I’m looking quite thin. And that’s not just on top.

Whether that will continue after the scary Physio tells me off this evening, I’ll let you know. I’m so desperate to ride right now, I’m even considering commuting in the pissing rain tomorrow. One year, I’ll get injured in the Winter and not feel as if another summer will be lost to encroaching fat and decreasing fitness. I am very much hoping it will be this year.

* I am unlikely to get bored of this joke. Sorry.