Nut Allergies

It's been a glorious week.  Fantastic weather with light winds.  Three things struck me this week.

The first whilst riding a new route from Selby to Cawood [recommended by a couple of chatty cyclists] took me alongside a large grey field absolutely loaded with DPM camouflaged pigeons.  All of them took off with thundering applause resulting in thousands of small grey bombers flying low overhead into a picture postcard blue sky.  Horizon to horizon stuff.  There I was, a fish looking up through shallow warm waters at a net as it descended through the crystal blue towards me.  Fantastic!

Secondly on the way back home riding down Church lane heading into Askham Bryan I looked to the west at a low slow Sun meandering across a field of newly sprung wheat with leaves prematurely aged gloriously golden, turned so by the setting Sun as though sharing a glimpse of its future.

And finally again of my shadow.  A regular companion on all my rides; a tall skinny giant striding out ahead of me atop the salt encrusted road.  Beautiful.

In the last week I've done about 100 miles.  My legs are starting to improve.  I can feel it, Dave.  So zis is good ja!  Perhaps.  The legs are getting better but now in my 50 something something years a new problem is emerging which I think has been exacerbated by the new playful antics of Bee and Hairy Melon.  Yeah, balloon dog has started to dribble.

Not quite like a St Bernard as he's nowt like that type of hoary monster.  It's nothing significant but is enough to leave a smattering of lucozade in my cycling shorts which is warmly bathing my nuts.  Talk about the need to scratch!  I think I've developed a nut allergy.  It's enough of a problem to stop me wearing light coloured trousers and my prolific stamping of feet at urinals has other drinkers thinking I've gone out for a long march.

It's enough though to talk to the doc about it.  "How old are you?  Ah you are quite young" says he in that 'you're not old enough to have that type of problem matey' kinda way.  There is form though in the family.  My father suffered with a bladder type cancer when I was young so similarly in his late 50's and whilst that was resolved he later suffered from prostate cancer which spread and led to his passing.  I also have an 80 something uncle on my mothers side who is currently living with Mr Catheter until he has an operation to sort out his problemy prostate.  That's not a good track record in this particular family and its worrying me so it's appropriate to get it checked out.

The immediate lucozade tests are all negative but I've got two things now to look forward to.  Some cold jelly on my belly in a couple of weeks time when I have an ultrasound inspection of my bladder to see what's what.  But later I'll be doing an impersonation of a rather large glove puppet as Dr Strange pops his finger (It'll probably feel like the whole bloody hand) into my pencil sharpener to check out my prostatey thingy.  Some folk pay for that kind of experience.  It's been done to me once before at a medical as a prerequisite to taking on some secondment work into Europe with my employer.  That had me wincing.  I'm expecting to break someone's finger at the same time as I clench and break my teeth.

I'm hoping for an outcome where I can blame Hairy Melon and Bee for getting too low down and dirty so soon into their new relationship.  Doc Martin says theres probably a prostratey tablet for my prostate to stop my post-rate balloon dog from dribbling.

I'm hungry.  Somehow a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is right out of the question.

Time to wash my shorts...