I had Things To Do this morning. And then there was the Family Activity. Which was Tour De France themed, but not actually on a bike. The local community had organised a treasure hunt leading us round Cragg Vale, hunting for bikes hidden in trees and under bushes. The rain held off, the scenery was lovely, we walked along paths we’d never trodden before, and spotted potential paddling places for when the weather warms up. All excellent fun, a decent walk, and we even won a voucher for The Hinchcliffe for our efforts. But still no biking.
A bit of a cough. Feeling very weary. Maybe I need more iron? No one else has said what they did yesterday, or today, perhaps they all sacked it off. The children are all washed and ready for bed. Maybe today I could count my bike themed walk as my 30 days effort? I sit on the sofa. I feel guilt. I have a glass of wine. Guilt is disrupting my ability to relax. And so we head out onto the street for a series of ‘backies’.
Being picked up from school on my bike and backie-ing it down the hill to the car before heading to get her brother is currently one of Kid 1’s greatest pleasures, it makes her squeal with delight. Doing it, I can feel the other parents stare at me. The irresponsibility of it. Or the weird cycling peopleness of it. But I care not. As a child in the country with rough forest tracks, I remember looking enviously at the townie kids doing backies round the pavements and housing estates. It looked precarious, but fun. It is.
Only problem is, now I’ve fulfilled the terms of The Pledge, I’m ready to relax. And they are over excited and not at all ready for bed.