Deep Water

Deep water can be scary,  the fear of drowning, sinking  and what lurks beneath, but  you also need a bit of depth to float freely, to swim and to dive safely.  So while it’s  a bit of a contradiction it’s also a mirror of life. Comfort zones and safety blankets are great and we all like to return to them, but every now and then we need to throw off the blanket and push out into the scary deep water.  Sometimes this is forced on us – new job, unexpected changes in relationships, health issues, sometimes of our choosing and others forced upon us. As we strike out across the deep water sometimes we bottle it and return to the side and other times we find that actually we are quite at home out there and can touch the floor and it’s not so deep but strangely comforting.

Of course there is always the danger of coming unstuck and actually drowning so it’s always good to have a helping hand and a lifebelt nearby.  Today I have been out cycling – same distance as Cycletta, but with a teacake stop at the home of the Psychic Supper, with some of the people who have been my helping hands and lifebelts as we have pushed out into the deep water.  The Psychic Supper is still being advertised, I suppose the sign will self combust when all tickets have been ordered on the astral plane,  All the scones were sold out, however the coffee and teacakes were excellent, as was the company and even the weather. It was really excellent today to just cycle for the fun of  it chatting and catching up and not checking time and distance until we got home, pretty exhausted!

We have indeed  worked our way across the deep water and it is now scary that the Cycletta distance which had seemed  a major challenge at the outset was  today just a pleasure ride.  There are still challenges to overcome before I am totally comfortable in the deep water, hills are still there to be screamed at though less so now.  My current  freak out moments are the bridges on the canal , not the going  over them but the narrow bumpy paths under them. there lurk any number of trolls, cobbles, the possibility of the sudden appearance of dogs, small children or even worse intransigent OAP’s or ramblers who refuse to budge from the centre of the narrow path.  All of which mean that  images of me thrashing in the deep dark  foul water of the canal flash through my mind.  This was even worse when following a slight issue loading my bike onto the car rack my bell was immobilised meaning I needed to shout as I approached these areas of doom.  I now have a new bell which is reassuring, though it seems to have little effect on certain of the canal ramblers who steadfastly refuse to move an inch to allow safe passage. There is a particular type who  hearing the bell, turn and look, then freeze to the spot forcing those of us on two wheels to mount the slippery grass verge, making a  split second choice of veering towards a wall or the aforesaid murky waters.

However today I steadfastly rode under each bridge rather than doing my usual brake, scream  shuffle and scoot through, it still felt as if I was crossing one of those Indiana Jones type rope bridges over a ravine with crumbling slats, and to some it may seem a small and rather petty element but boy to me it was deep water indeed.

New partner, new position, better result

I suppose it was inevitable… I have betrayed the Purple Peril, despite its best efforts to keep me satisfied, our relationship has run its course and I have, like many an ageing Lothario traded the ageing, reliable and slightly heavy partner in for a younger fresher lither model. Looked at in such terms it is perhaps a cruel act but I have softened the blow and am allowing the PP to retain the compost bag as a familiar crutch. This is partly because my new love – The Burgundy Bombshell is complete with not only a tinkly bell but a sparkling built-in stand allowing it to perch at a positively coquettish angle.

I have been flirting with the Burgundy Bombshell for a while in what is now time-honoured fashion over the internet, but before making my final move I did decide to play the field a bit. So following an abortive trip into an emporium heaving with metal, chains and rubber which under other circumstances I may have mistaken for the type of establishment a good convent girl should have no knowledge of whatsoever, I dipped into another similar establishment, accompanied by a knowledgeable colleague. My previous foray had revealed that if I wished to purchase any of their magnificent machines I would need a bank balance approaching the size of the national debt but more to the point I wasn’t keen on any of colours and none of them seemed to have either baskets or bells – a fairly massive omission in my humble opinion. Mind you I don’t think the bouncers sorry assistants, felt my 3 inch heels and rather fetching summer frock met the dress code either – I got the distinct impression I was not on the list and not coming in.

So the second attempt was much more casual – well in dress terms anyway – a shift dress and red espadrilles and the bouncers at this venue seemed much more tolerant and laid back, and as I say I was supported by a trusted companion with extensive knowledge of saddles – well horse saddles anyway – and she soon got into the swing of things spotting potential matches based on my type of criteria – colours and accessories. She deflected the look of scorn that was hovering on the assistants face as I dismissed several on the basis I was not keen on the colour, was very useful when I dismounted one and forgot it may fall over if not supported and best of all ensured I rejected a cheap but heavy silver fox that was proving tempting but would ultimately have ended in tears. But the Burgundy Bombshell was still lurking in the dark recesses of the mind and smelling an opportunity or possibly not able to take any more wittering about colours, baskets or bells our man wizzed off and in a flash had arranged an assignation, some hard bargaining on the price – remember my companion knows how to buy a horse – a flash of plastic and the deed was done.

Such was the BB’s desire to meet with me it arrived a day early, and so we have been on our first date and yes we are gelling, the frame size and position are easier, causing less stress, we seem to fit well and on the quick run out we have already achieved great things… a hill I bottled out of going down the other day is now conquered… not only did we whizz down, we also whizzed back up and I had to resist a shout of glee accompanied by an air punch – just as well as clearly the air punch would have been a bad move as I would have fallen off.

The old and the new are nestled side by side with the compost bag squeezed in the middle, but the Peril should not despair, we have bonded, we will always be fond of each other, never forget our time together and will remain friends. As a good friend should I have sourced a fitter stronger partner for it and I look forward to watching their relationship grow and prosper. Who knows we may even double date!