Today’s guest pictures comes from Bruce who lives near the fire station. He is certainly not going in theeere.
I started off on the morning run with Dropscone but had to stop almost before we had started because of an ominous grating sound coming from my back wheel. When a preliminary investigation failed to locate the source, Dropscone went on his way solo as he was under time pressure being due on the golf course at eleven o’clock.
I took the back wheel off and found that the clamp for my broken (and removed) mudguard was the source of the squeak. A quick squeeze sorted that out and the wheel went back on. Then it was off up the road in pursuit of Dropscone. I wasn’t expecting to catch him up although I knew that he was taking it easy but a glimpse of his red top half a mile ahead as I started to climb the hill at Callister drove me on. Foolishly I let my competitive instinct overcome what little sense I have and I had nearly got up with him by the time he turned for home at Waterbeck.
Although we cycled back at a sensible speed, the outward effort proved too much and when I got off the bike in the garden, I could hardly walk.
My trapped nerve in my hip was the culprit.
Sandy arrived on his bike and after a cup of coffee, I pedalled gently up to the bird feeders with him in the hope that I could ease off the joint. As long as I was on my bike, all was well but sitting down watching the birds was literally a pain so we didn’t stop long. I had a look at some wild flowers…
…before Sandy continued on the ten mile trip round Whita and I free-wheeled down the hill to Skippers Bridge….
…which was looking very peaceful in the sunshine.
Once home, I spent the rest of the day trying to find a way of sitting down that didn’t hurt. I wasn’t very successful so this post will be quite brief.
In general, walking around very slowly and groaning theatrically was the most satisfying thing to do so I did have some opportunity to look at the flowers, which always refreshes the spirits.
By managing to fidget from position to position, I stayed seated for long enough to watch the second half of another interesting stage of the Tour de France and we were joined by Mike Tinker for the last few kilometres. Mrs Tootlepedal had managed to banjax our strimmer by accidentally including some hidden wire in the strimmings and Mike kindly offered us his old strimmer as a substitute.
While Mrs Tootlepedal went off to get this, I made a feeble but successful effort at picking some of our gooseberries and stewed and puréed them later in the evening.
Although we had several visits actually into the sitting room of coloured butterflies, I could only find white ones in the garden when I went out butterfly hunting.
As the sun sank downwards, it didn’t seem to get any cooler and the thermometer was still showing 25°C when I had a last look at the flowers for the day.
Our granddaughter Matilda is coming to visit us tomorrow so I thought that this was a good time to show the last rose on the Special Grandma bush.
I am hoping that somewhere before tomorrow morning, I can find that magic position which will relax the muscles that are giving me the trouble and I will be pain free again. It doesn’t usually take long to shift even if it is really annoying when it is there.
In the evening, my cello playing friend Mike came round to look at some photos of paintings which he had asked me to take. After examining them, he decided that the ones he had taken with his own camera were better than mine and went away again. He was quite right but as his were taken outside in good light and he had asked me to take mine in his front room in the evening under a rather dim light bulb, this didn’t come as a big surprise to me.
I did stay long enough at the bird feeders this morning to catch a flying chaffinch.