badger

to vineyard. westerly route this time. wind behind makes all the difference. foggy and freezing is trumped by free and loose. fear run will go bad as ones with good starts usually do. rough figure-of-eight, as drawn by drunk, around vineyard. long drag into teeth of wind is no fun. legs heavy up hills again. run's gone fairly bad. back into town. inspect chain. in slightly more light see it has no pointy bits nevertheless i still have bump and bruise and scar. if it must exist it should be lit or painted white, but it shouldn't exist, it is pointless. sit badger, sit, says woman to dog at bury hill gate. odd name for dog. what else could it be? go through alphabet like alan davies. look out for neat little reindeer of twinkly lights eating grass at foot of monkey puzzle tree - my favourite christmas light thing this year. no lights twinkling on its white wire frame. take high street home again. man is carrying largest pack of beverage cans i have seen.