I'm sitting outside, with a good book and a glass of wine, listening to the long-absent sounds of a band rehearsal coming out of the oast for the first time in so so long. It's the folk/barn dance band Neal drums with - they have gigs next week for Broadstairs Folk Week and they are trying to remember songs. There are a lot of starts and stops as they piece it back together - a lot of laughter - "who wrote this song anyways?" someone shouts. And then, almost out of the blue, they are all singing in harmony and Gemma's violin is dancing over the top and it is so beautiful and joyful and pure that it almost hurts. Time stops, just for a moment. "Argh! in D!" somebody yells, someone else swears and the spell is broken. Everyone laughs again and I smile, out here in the garden.
Thursday, 29 July 2021
Thursday, 22 July 2021
A Funny Story
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| Seasalter this afternoon |
I have a funny story for you. It starts off with a not-so-funny bit - I fell off my bike day-before-yesterday. I was trying to avoid a patch of stinging nettles, and I caught my wheel on some gravel and went over, predictably right into the nettles. They duly stung. There's probably a life lesson in there somewhere about the futility of avoiding the unpleasant or something. Other than the welts from the nettles, and a bruise on my arse, I'm fine - just a bit stiff.
Today, my morning meeting ended early and I decided to hop on my bike and head up to Seasalter for a cheeky lunchtime swim. You can only swim there when the tide is high and today was a perfect alignment of sunshine and tide tables. My next meeting wasn't until 130 so I had two hours if I put a wiggle on. I threw my towel in my basket, made a quick lunch to take with me, and off I went. I was halfway there when I realised I forgot my bike helmet. There's just one stretch of road leading to the beach where traffic can be a bit close and I usually put on my helmet for that bit. If I went back I wouldn't have enough time so I shrugged and promised to my self to be careful. As it turned out, I followed a slow moving highway engineering lorry all the way up the road so we were a convoy and there was no passing anyways.
I had my swim (bliss), ate my sandwich and watermelon slices, and reluctantly went back to my bike to come home for my meeting. Another woman was unlocking her bike and we said hi and had a quick chat - we were both cycling back to Faversham. I told her I would have stayed all day but I had a meeting to get back for. She laughed and we agreed working from home was great. We pulled onto the road and the highway truck stopped us - they were resurfacing the road and we couldn't use it. It's the only road to Faversham.
There is, however, a track, through the fields and bird reserve. Never mind, chirped the woman, we can go the path way. I'll get you back for your meeting!
Let me take a moment to describe her. I think she was around my age, maybe older, very slim and trim. Her bike looked just as svelte - I imagine it had the word "carbon" in the description somewhere - and she was wearing padded bicycle shorts. She looked, in short, like a proper sporty cyclist. I am guessing she swims sea lengths.
I was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a rash vest to fend off sunburn, and I ride a dutch touring bike with a milk crate cable-tied to the back. We are not built for speed. In the sea, I splash about like a labrador.
But necessity makes strange bedfellows. I gamely followed her and thus commenced one of the most terrifyingly quick, reckless rides of my life. All the way I was laughing in spite of my fear and - soon - exhaustion - at the sheer incongruity of it all. There were fences and turnstiles that needed to be clambered over, bikes and all, and at one point (oh the horror) cows. It was so bumpy I nearly flew off more than once. I had to keep up with her because I couldn't lift my bike over the fences by myself. She was like a whippet speeding off into the horizon while I held on for dear life and tried not to crash my bike on the gravelly, pot-holed, grassed over, sometimes barely visible path. Every so often she would call back - "We''ll make it!" and I thought - I am not so sure.
We did make it. Technically. I did not, however make my meeting as I was in urgent need of a cold shower and a lie-down. Now, several hours later, I am slightly concerned that my poor bruised bottom will actually just give up and fall off. The irony of having worried about not having a bike helmet on the busy road is still making me laugh. My dad was right - you never worry about the right things.
Why I did not just ask the highway guys how long it would be and go back to the beach to wait in the sun I have no idea - I guess I was so focused on getting back in time it didn't occur to me. Amanda (for that was her name) was so matter of fact and confident I didn't really stop and think at all.
Just goes to show you never know what will happen in a day! Also that sneaking off to the beach at lunchtime may have unintended consequences. And you should probably pay more attention to what the highway engineering lorries are up to...