Where is the hope, where is the faith?

Did you ever watch "Thirtysomething"? It was an American TV drama series first broadcast in the early nineties. I used to watch it, and I thought those east-coast Yankee advertising chaps, with their endless insights into the human condition, were so cool and sophisticated. I longed to earn their wisdom, be erudite like them, and have an urbane yet strangely folksy life. The most inspiring character was one protagonist's wife, cannily named "Hope". Symbolising all the optimism that latched onto the show in the period it was set, post Berlin-wall tumbling, and pre 9/11.

Thing is, I caught a re-run of it yesterday afternoon, as I slumbered in front of my TV, channel-hopping and trying to forget that the weather was fantastic outside. I watched with some fascination before I realised it was not an episode I had missed. What a load of self-indulgent pretentious clap-trap. Who were these inexperienced naive fools. You see, it wasn't the programme that had changed, or even the zeitgeist (well, not that much). And it isn't truly fair to say that it's me that has changed either (as I am still full of plenty of the afore-mentioned clap-trap, and quite proud of it), although of course I have lost my top-end speed.

Because cynical, naive, idealistic, optimistic, hard-hearted, empathic, even plain old nice, these are the words we use to judge another's perspective. I am round the back of the outbuildings, putting a tarpaulin on the leaky shed of life (see, I told you), whereas back in the nineties, I still thought it was all about getting a flash car and climbing the ladder.

All of this is a long-winded answer to a question I was asked last week, and no I'm not angry anymore, after all what's the point?

Today, the official Axbridge Cycling Group went sailing to Glastonbury. It was wet, I was about a stone heavier, in accumulated water, when I got home compared to when I left, and a layer of skin has been air-blasted from my face by the wind. At one point cruising, no make that battling, across the levels we were pedalling like crazy on the flat and still only doing about 13 mph. On the same stretch on the way back we topped 22 mph, thus statistically calibrating the gale's impact.

It was a bit of a two way split at times, between Boots, Boy Wonder and I in one group, and Skip and M (name to follow when I've thought about it), I think I caught the latter two talking about shopping at one point. Boots and I actually managed to drop Boy Wonder in the headwind, but once the return leg came there was no catching him as usual, even when I tried to sneak up on him. Still got his top-end speed see.

My bike got its third wash in seven days too, and I had to give the chain a bit of special attention as a few bits of rust are creeping in to the crannies between the links. Once the spring comes I might treat myself to a new chain and give K-1 a service. It's been a winter with a lot of weather. Sorry about the rain, I take responsibility given my Friday comments. So far this winter we have had virtually no mild, dry, windless sunny days........if God will send his angels, it just might be something to hope for.

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