THE SHED

I am a bike nut. You might have observed this down the years, and although it's probably unfashionable to admit it, a lot of my life revolves around motorcycles. Strange but true, as we say. And although I prefer riding bikes even to writing about them, and indeed talking about them to the exclusion of all else, the whole huge world of motorcycling has provided a focus to life - mine, that is - for as long as I can remember, pretty much. For as long as I've been able to, the ability to climb aboard a motorcycle - ancient or modern; big or small; fashionable or not - has always been a superb way to unwind. When I'm stressed, I take a bike out. And suddenly I couldn't. Suddenly, for obvious reasons, we were all told to stay at home.

That is not entirely true. When the most stringent of the lockdowns was in force, we were also instructed to carry on working but to keep contact with others to a minimum. And part of what I'm delighted to describe as my'work' involves regular trips to the Post Office, because we post out quite a bit of stuff. Could I think of a reason why I wouldn't use a bike for the weekly post run? I could not, so I rode one, rain or shine, to drop off as much as I could