I'm not angry any more

I've noticed lately that the red mist rarely descends. No rage on the road, at work, at home - anywhere, in fact. I find little things begin to vex me and then I think "Nah, why bother?" So, for instance, the other day I was seeking out a chunk of black pudding from the fridge to have for my breakfast - and a very fine breakfast black pudding is, too - and my tetchiness rating began to shoot up because I couldn't find the said delicacy. I became convinced that the black pudding had been discarded and was just on the point of effing and blinding when I looked in the salad drawer of the fridge. There, still in its bag from the butchers, was my decidedly non-salady breakfast. Yum yum.

Similarly, at the weekend I was on my bike going out for a leisurely Sunday morning ride when some lagered-up tosser and his mate emerged from a Bideford pub for a smoke. The lagered-up tosser then began shouting "Tally Ho" and other inanities at me (I was the only person around, aside from his smoking buddy). The LUT thought this was hilarious and I was on the point of flicking the Vs at him and scuttling off when good sense kicked in. It occurred to me he might genuinely have thought he was being encouraging and he was, after all, causing me no harm - people who offend your personal dignity really aren't causing you harm. So I just carried on, wind in my hair and a smile on my face. And come to think of it, it's an assumption on my part that he was lagered-up.

Sometimes I fear I may just be apathetic. Obviously getting agitated about mislaid black pudding is a ridiculous state of affairs, but my encounter with the man from the pub might be considered to be an example of bad manners from him. Perhaps a friendly talking-to explaining how he should show consideration for other people would effect a change in his behaviour making him a delight to have around. But then, as I said earlier, I think "Nah, why bother."

In my defence, I would observe that if more people were apathetic there probably would be less trouble in the world. People get het up about something and then they won't rest until they've done something about it. That leads to all sorts of agitation and bonkers behaviour like the excitable pastor from America who decided he was going to burn the Koran. Understandably this got people all riled up on all sides of the argument and the next thing the world is looking a lot less peaceful. A bit more apathy all round and none of it would have happened. Apathetes of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your...well, I'm not sure really...your something or others. Incidentally, I am aware that if everyone was apathetic then we wouldn't have light bulbs, sticking plasters, black pudding and other useful things. So maybe I'm calling for a form of rational apathy which stops people from getting too angry.

Anyway, unsurprisingly perhaps, I am going off to sit and think about these things for a while. Do you think there is such a word as apathete? Perhaps best not to worry about it too much.

Sexing the cyclist

A colleague of mine recently had a baby which she and her husband had been assured was going to be a girl. So I'd like everyone to give a worldwide welcome to Ewan. Yep, the she was a he and much-loved he is too, I'm sure. The thing is, if only his mum and dad could have waited a few years there would have been a surefire way of determining sex. It's what I call the folded arms test.

Have you ever walked down the road with your arms folded in front of you much as you might do if you were sitting in a chair waiting for something to happen. If you have, then almost certainly you're a woman. I have seen countless women walk down the road like that, but no men. Ever. Well, possibly one or two gay men. This is not some sort of battle of the sexes thing or a little dig at gay men, it's just an observation. You do not see (straight) men walking around with their arms folded in front of them. Or if you do, they look a bit odd.

So that is how I knew from quite some distance the sex of the cyclist who was approaching me along the Tarka Trail the other day. Arms folded across chest, yep, that's a woman. I have to say I was slightly in awe of her being able to cycle like that. The minute I lift my hands from the handlebars I wobble alarmingly, so doing what she was doing is something I will never do for safety reasons, let alone gender. Truth be told, she looked a bit fierce, but she was definitely a woman.

Anyway, that's my contribution to medical science. I know there are other, more scientific approaches, and my way often tells you something that's glaringly obvious on account of the womanly shape etc, but I offer it up for what it's worth. (Bugger all).

Anyway, I now have bigger fish to fry. The thought has entered my head - and won't go away - that I need a better bike. A lighter bike. One that will not be so hard to get moving. I think I'm entering an obsessive phase. The trouble is I know so little about bikes and cycling that I'm venturing in to a whole new world about which I know nothing. I think some research is in order. But where to begin?

We're gonna need a bigger boat

I think the captain in Jaws (played by Robert Shaw?) expressed the need for a bigger boat on realising the size of the shark he was after. For my part I decided I needed a bigger bell for my bike owing to the seemingly infinite number of people using the Tarka Trail who are hard of hearing.

The original bell was one of those lightweight devices where you flick one bit against the other producing a rather tinny "Ting, ting" sound. This seemed either not to register with anyone or annoy them in some way. The new bell, all shiny chrome and the size of . . .I dunno, an ice hockey puck? . . .makes a reassuring clanging noise similar to a cow bell. I'm still weighing up the correct way to use this in alerting people to my presence. Too far away and they get fed up waiting for you to pass; too close to them and they dive in to the hedgerow, obviously fearful of being mown down.

At least I use my bell, which is more than some cyclists - mainly the ones in the stretchy lycra with lots of writing on it, although that's not meant to be too critical of them. Cycling has been something of a salvation for me this year and although I only commute, and only when it's dry, it has given me something in my life I can focus on which is, largely speaking, mine and mine alone.