…and felt that it did portend many things in a portentous sort of way.

it seems that i was right [news.bbc.co.uk]

i was going to entitle this entry:

saddam hussein ate my walking boots

…but felt that having woken up to find war being prosecuted in the mid-east, that perhaps the omen cited in the title was more appropriate.

of my past three days holiday, i managed to spend most of the last two days on the motorbike. seeing as i felt the need to defer my off-road bike course for a couple of months (due to my recent laryngitis) i determined to do something bike-oriented, and thus headed the 260 miles northbound to richmond in north yorkshire, to the outlet for [www.altberg.co.uk] in order to buy walking boots.

monday was just prep, e-mail, house stuff and general relaxation, with a 0500 wakeup on tuesday to make an early start riding; by dint of much boring motorway, i made it to richmond by noon, had the local fish and chips (a religious devotion, in that part of the world, where fish must be fresh and batter must be gunshot-crisp) and then spent a pleasing hour shopping.

the two pairs of boots that i have ordered will not be ready until late june, because they have to fulfill a big rush of orders from the military.

i suppose, from one perspective, that’s slightly worrying – altberg’s usual lead time is six weeks (may 1st) – so it means they have six weeks of supply bandwidth booked out to the military. that’s a lot of unshod soldiers.

i buggered-off westbound from richmond, down swaledale with hazy cloud merging blue-grey into the purple and brown mountainous terrain. i stopped in the marvellously-named little hamlet of crackpot [www.streetmap.co.uk] and then went to muker and cross-country into wensleydale via buttertubs pass, a lovely route that was recommended to me by Oz of the Dagda.

thence diagonally to preston, and dinner and beer with friends Helen and Nick, whom i have seen far too rarely.

good beer, no hangover, croissants with Helen, and a late start on wednesday morning. i worked down the M6 and got as far as birmingham before the traffic backed-up, so dived down the M5 to visit my parents for tea.

under clear blue skies i decided to dawdle home via alcester and stratford, and stopped in on the rollright stones as previously mentioned in this journal; i was mildly astonished to find a bbc camera crew on-site (no obvious signage on their cars, but i recognised the shooting script one of them was carrying as being for the BBC Heaven and Earth sunday-morning religion spot.

i wasn’t sure but i thought i recognised the small blonde female who was walking-around the circle with one of the rollright trust’s historical reps, and did (via google) later manage to confirm my suspicions — it was indeed the notorious Gail Porter who is guest-presenting a slot on the show. i shall have to keep an eye out for the airing, see if there are any surly-looking black-clad bikers in the background.

the bronze-age peace was shattered by a helicopter overflight at ground level/ less than 100 feet, fortunately not right over the circle, but evidently the local airbase was getting-in some practice.

so, i continued on to oxford, stopped-in on my friend Oonagh, chatted and caught up over some pleasant lapsang souchong, and finally set-off on the final leg home. i ran onto my reserve tank of petrol almost immediately i left the oxford ringroad, but was a mere 100 yards from the nearest (sainsburys) petrol station.

preston to oxford on 15 litres of super-unleaded, a total cost of &pound 12.30; not bad.

then, as noted above, the moon rose blood-red over the horizon in Reading, aircraft buzzed out of airbases from all directions, and i managed to stave off the chill long enough to get home without changing gloves.

home, tea, shower, news, bed. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

and now? i feel great. tired, but great. i need to do this more often.