She wore a yellow ribbon

I woke up late, as in 7am late.  Not the usual 04.30 rising followed by 2 hours on the blog. No, I said blog.  So I'm needing more sleep as I work my way down the country am I?  Not surprising really.  The fantastical mileage and feet climbed whilst riding a Surly Ogre mountain bike, a bike which adequately describes the demeanour of its tragic owner, for sure drains me completely by the end of every day.  

'Look! Look! Southside' I shout as I show him the slackness in my leather belt.  I'm currently eating main course starters followed by main courses for my main course and a main course pudding yet it feels like the weight is already starting to drop off.  Mark is a fit racing snake with a pet tapeworm going by the amount of food he also eats.  And the occasional waggy tail he displays each day before he tucks it away saying 'no, no, not now' under his breath whilst bent over using his big thumbs to push his symbiotic pet back in to his sphincter.  Theres a couple of happy critters fer ya. 

I wobble atop faulty knees into the kitchen.  Southside is already there with a somewhat quizzical look on his face, smacking his lips as he stares deeply into his pale cup of lilac and mint tea to which he's added milk.  David and Fiona have quite a selection of botanicals in the kitchen cabinet.  All that's missing is labels. 

We're followed soon thereafter by David the Gentle Giant and his oh so soft lilting voice, both of whom I suspect slept in a vat of cream overnight.  Were both sat at the kitchen table with wide open mouths displaying impressive sets of gnashers which I think prompted David to softly say 'Good morning Wayne.  Good morning Mark.  How about some breakfast?'.  Listening to David talk is like watching someone pouring Golden Syrup onto a soft bed of overnight cooked melt in your mouth porridge oats.

Now yesterday's breakfast was grand. Scrambled eggs with Scottish salmon on toast.  Yum!  I'm  expecting David to further display his cullenary skills this morning in producing the world's grandest Scottish Breakfast.  You know, bacon and eggs and bacon and fried tomato and bacon and sausage with mushrooms bacon and haggis.  Plus toast with marmalade... and bacon.  But no.  Out came the Kelloggs oat flakes and Alpen and a bags of nuts with what looked like a bag of brown coloured sweepings from the local cardboard manufacturers production line floor.  

'David!' I exclaim,  'You do know what effect this stuff has on Mark?', who's now sat on his chuff nuts making sounds like a Fiat 500 on tick-over.  He's eager to get stuck in.  'Och, that's your problem now isn't it Wayne' says David in his most lilting of tones now that he's finished his section of the ride south.  Well, matter of fact, NO.  It isn't.  Well won't be.  By the time Mark and his pet have finished playing with this lot we'll be back at Mark's house in Moffat, some 68 miles down the road.  Oh dear!  Gill.  Think about her Mark.  She's the one thats gotta share a bed with ya!

Whilst having breakfast I repeatedly look up at the roof Velux watching and listening to the huge raindrops as they thud on the glass.  All three of us are scanning every weather app out there trying to find one that gives the truth, the whole truth and nothing other than telling us what we want to hear.  Mark is surprised to discover that Windy.com is a meteorological web site which does nothing to help him find a gas mask for his wife.  The forecasts say today is gonna be 'dreick'.  On reflection it should have said - as might be uttered by someone opening the front door to go to work - 'dr-EEK!'.  The thudding abates and yes, perhaps the weather front is ahead of predictions?  Nah, its playing with us.  For sure.  Today we're gonna get wet.

I finish my packing and depart David's piano room with a fart leaving it smelling like it shouldn't.  And we're off.  Navigating the wet whirly canal upsy downsey river paths bridges and tunnels that are wrapped around Glasgow's heart like a gross blackened arterial tumour.  Mark is mostly out front keeping an eye out for Glaswegian Injuns, these being the worst kind with their 'WEEEEE!' battle cry and their Pint of Heavy tommahawks.  Note - Tennants Lager is the best stuff with which to scalp oneself.  'Oh God!  Me Heed!' is the pained cry of all of its victims the next day.

The rain was initially light, then heavy as we pirouetted our way through the tumour, then perhaps brighter just outside of town, then bloody horrible on the long long climb to the top of the wrongly named lowlands of the Scottish Borders.  Its a bloody long day made worse cos of all of the water.  I'm drenched.  With rivulets running down my sleeves and shorts that are plastered to my legs.  I push off on the bike and attempt to cock my leg over the wet leather seat which grabs them and almost throws me over the handlebars!  Nonetheless, the coolness of it all generally prevents me from overheating on what turned out to be one of the fastest riding days ever on a fully loaded bike.  68 miles with @ 3000ft of ascent at an average speed of 11mph.  Wow!

We arrive at Mark's house at Fort Moffat intact.  Wet and happy to get there.  The last 5 miles or so of 30mph downhill airs did their best to dry me but not a fecking chance.  I'm stood at the back door looking like a drown rat.  Gill, who's wearing a yellow ribbon in her hair in preparation for the gas mask fitting session to follow later sees me and instantly hangs me up on the clothes line to drip dry.  She's stronger than she looks!

My yellow jacket has a giant rooster tail sprayed up its back so has to go in the wash.  Barbara, an elderly living alone well to do well spoken well travelled lady with a lovely Anglo Scottish voice from across the road is also joining us for dinner.  She admires my tail feathers and prompty tells us about her, I think she said, pet peasant and his lovely tail.  Then regailed us, just as I tipped back to take a longingly long swig on a bottle of ice cold lager, how she's not shown anyone her back garden in years.

It took Mark and Gill half an hour to remove the Peroni bottle from the back of my throat!

Ciao for now