IT’S A GLORIOUS SEPTEMBER SUNDAY. RAIN IS sweeping across the fields outside the window, which is itself so plastered with artistic rivulets of water that it might also be foggy and possibly raining frogs. Who cares? Not me, because I have my winter wheels all ready for exactly this eventuality – torrential deluge in a time of drought – so my trip to the Post Office to buy bird seed is okay. Post Office? Bird seed? Don’t ask.
I wonder how many riders still have a winter hack, as we once called
