I rode out to Sheringham today, taking the most circuitous route possible without either leaving Norfolk or doubling back on yourself. A large, county-sized game of Snake, if you will.
Dan and I must learn to plan routes.
Still, a hard ride, some great food at the end, and a little dip in the sea to boot. It was marred only by an encounter with the legendary dog-beast of East Anglia, immortalised in song by the Darkness, Black Shuck.
Thank god for the sturdy metal gate between us and them, I was thinking, just as one of them burst through the hedge mid-flight.
It landed just to the right of us, scrabbling and scratching for traction. It didn’t look like it wanted to play. I sprinted, blubbering as I went.
You don’t have to outrun the dog, I remember realising, just outrun Dan – then escape while it settles down to eat.
Still, we both managed to get away, which is good, because Dan was riding my Claud Butler at the time.