It's Sunday, it must be...
Ah, Sundays. I remember in the 70s, when Sundays was the day we got fresh meat (not literally fresh, obviously, but roasted with some potatoes) and I spent the day reading or otherwise avoiding the TV because it would be full of religious programmes. Being in a family who didn't go to church (unless one got the religion bug and then you went on your own, walking the mile and a half to the parish church of St Michael on the Green Hill, where they all knew we were not baptised), meant Sundays were very quiet. Maybe there'd be a trip out to Fradley Junction, to play along the canal or a cycle trip to Wall to
play on look at the Roman ruins. But it was mostly a day of restful activity enforced by the state religion making us all take the day off.
These days, Sundays are rather busy for me. Although the Sunday roast has gone, and it'd be at least a 175 mile walk to St Michael's now, I have to Do Stuff. Sunday is my day to:
- catch up on my fanfic readings
- cycle to Sainsburys
- catch up on inviting people to post their images in the Tate Galleries group I run on Flickr
- Chores, especially working out if tonight is a night for putting out the recyc bin
- laundering all the clothes I need for work, especially as I am - for the fifth week in a row - living out of a suitcase at some point this coming week
- catching up on all the blogs I've not read due to said suitcase life
So far, I have been mostly doing the ones that involve sitting at the PC, apart from the cycle to the supermarket. Chores? Pah. They're just so boring.
I have reached the moment of familiarity with the route to the supermarket that I always change gears at the same point. I also know where to expect cars pulling out in front, or overtaking dangerously, or taking the blind turn on Old Vicarage Road at 30mph. What I'd not encountered before was the massive puddle on Alphington Road. The one the width of a lane and running for perhaps 100 yards or so. Alphinton Road, as I may have mentioned before, is a fast and furious road when not snarled up with commuters, so I had to risk circumnavigating the
puddle lake. In future, I shall use a slightly different route which means I go less directly to the cycle park at the supermarket but also avoid the Puddle of Death.
I say 'cycle park'. There are four of those giant metal staples, so you can only lock up a maximum of eight bikes at any one time. In contrast, it has a total of 381 car parking spaces. The website for it doesn't even mention cycle parking in its list of the facilities. I'd mutter darkly about how the bus stop which serves it is beyond the point at which trolley wheels lock, so you can't bulk buy and use the bus realistically either but I am happily freed from public transport within the town now so...
I think writing letters/emails of complaint might become a regular feature of my Sundays from now on.