The Bike

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The weather was a bit dreich, gray clouds lay overhead most of the day, but I managed to get the bike purring all the way up the old railway to the village. That time of the morning, around ten, usually has some folks walking the dog. I maybe would be better saying 'following the dog,' as those beasts enjoy this pathway more than the people do. Whether they appreciate the sights as much as the smells I would not care to say but there were a few four legged creatures sniffing along. 
People round here usually make some sort of greeting as they pass during the week days but on the weekends the attitudes are often different. I wonder if this could be because at the weekend it is those commuters into far off London breathing fresh air but carrying the London offhand approach? Those who have lived there will know the sort of thing, if you die in front of them they will not see you! When I regularly met such folks on a weekend I made a point of a cheery greeting, just to annoy them! They rarely reply!
I was a bit peeved that the wildlife folk had been out with the hatchets and cut back lots of the greenery in preparation for the year. No doubt they know what they are doing but it was a bit disappointing to see so many gaps in the verges. This old railway line is indeed well cared for and is always worth a visit no matter what time of year. I reckon that having spent so many years amongst London's concrete I appreciate the vista more than those brought up out here.
I stopped at the stagnant pond to stop my knees yelling at me, the creaking sound was beginning to annoy me, and sat there for a few moments listening to the typical country sounds. There were robins and tits chirping in the hedges and trees. A squirrel or two passed by, somewhere along the path a dog barked, and over all of this the thunder of the by-pass a hundred yards away drowned out every sound more than five feet from my wax filled ears. Ah the quiet country life, it doesn't exist!


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