but that doesn’t stop him riding on one. Until today, I was of the firm belief that the UK had only four sets of islands:

1- Cold ones off the North of Scotland.
2- Rainy ones sandwiched between England and Ireland.
3- Temperate ones on the way to France**
4- Tax havens.

Apparently not. The Isle Of Purbeck is not really a proper Island in the same way that lager is not a proper drink. Looks sort of right, exhibits some characteristics of the real thing but is lacking in a vital component. In the case of Purbeck, it’s the geographical hypocrisy of still being connected to the mainland. In the case of – say – Fosters, it’s everything.

It’s also a bloody long way away from here, but with promises of accompanying Carol to the arse end of London to discover exactly what the fuck a ground pump is and a keen urge for some Bank Holiday loafing, a single day prodding of the riding is all that’s available. Although, there was some talk of a preposterous 40 mile loop requiring a start some time last Thursday.

I’m treating that type of seditious talk with the outward amusement and inward terror that it clearly deserves. I assume it’ll be the standard operating model of turning up late, planning a peak bagging epic, getting it badly wrong in terms of navigation and technical ability, so viewing at least half of it through the bottom of a long lunched glass.

Before any of this can take place, my friend Jason is rambling over with a broken bike and a crate of beer. Can anyone else see what may go wrong when those two items converge on my engineering talents?

No, me neither 🙂

* John Donne. Religious Nutter. Much loved by transcendental hippy types. The whole concept of civilisation only thriving through togetherness and community was properly shafted when God invented the Yorkshireman.

** Except when visited by Mr Rain Cloud himself.