Illegitimi non carborundum

I just did ten miles this evening, round the country lanes over Winter Hill, but it was a lovely evening for a ride. Sunny and cool, with a (fairly) gentle wind, and very little traffic. 

I almost didn't get the bike out, because I was feeling drained after a difficult day trying to catch up with work, and battling with problems left by a number of idiots and a series of gremlins. 

But wiser council prevailed, and in the end I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

There was nothing remarkable about the ride itself. It's a regular and familiar route. After a few miles when I was shouting at the world inside my head I managed to relax. By the time most of the climb was over, the bile was out of my system, and I was starting to enjoy the views and the exercise.

By the time I got home I had turned around a pig of a day. The voices in my head were sorted out, and I was set up to spend a very pleasant evening. 

Which just goes to prove that you must never let the b******ds grind you down.