Clouds have silver linings, or so I’m led to believe. I’m looking at those clouds and they are merged into one tapestry blanket and becoming more colourless as the day moves on. Us British love complaining about the weather, but I have an excuse.
It’s Mod 2 Take 2 (motorcycle road test for those who are only recently following), but at 2 am in the morning gale force winds wake us up and things started blowing around dangerously. There is no let up by 10 am when I’m meant to leave for a preliminary warm up. There’s no warmth to be had today.
The problem with the bike test in these conditions is that you have to first arrive at the test centre to be told that it’s too dangerous to ride. But you’ve got to ride your bike to get there. If you don’t make it, you forfeit your fee. And that’s a bit of a hole in the budget – especially considering how much I’ve already ingested into this great idea of being hell’s granny.
I decide it’s too dangerous to ride, and feel I should be failed if I indeed thought it wasn’t. After all, the test is all about safety. I take a bus to the school, and as I’m in full biker gear, this does draw me into a couple of conversations en route. The instructors are made of more mettle and arrive with their stories of the journey over. All the same, they decided it’s too dangerous to ride and make a deal with the examiner that he’d ring and let them know if the tests are to go ahead or not. We sit, have coffee and a chat. After an hour, I learned the inevitable – it’s too dangerous for the test. I go home, in full biker gear, answer a few more questions about my bike, and by now, I want to tell a very dramatic story, but I don’t want anyone think I’m stupid enough to have attempted riding her today.
I get home, to discover that the boiler is on strike. It’s now snowing. Not heavily, but that colourless cloud cover is promising more.
But clouds have silver linings. This is all good conditioning for the permaculture nomadic lifestyle we’re aspiring to.