A teenage dream so hard to beat

Oh where to begin? Actually, those where the opening words of the Best Man at the wedding I went to yesterday, as well as summing up all the thought whirling round my head right now. Unlike him, I'm going to start in the middle.

12.50AM. Yes AM, in the morning, with darkness outside, but music and jollity inside. Mrs Mendip Rouleur and I were the last "men" standing from her side of the extended family. On the dance floor surrounded by people young enough to be our children probably. The Undertones. Pogoing. Us that is, not The Undertones, who like Mrs MR, come from Derry in Ireland. There is some kind of family myth that Teenage Kicks was written for my wife's sister, but I've no idea if its true or not.

I loved that song, and unlike most of last night's late night revellers, I remembered it from first time around. But I don't buy its central premise. When I were a lad, a teenager, all that "does she fancy me?", "my friend likes  you, do you like her?" and the worst of all "I really like you as a friend" stuff, caused me no end of anguish. Bikes and football are so much easier to understand. Plus ca change.

I was eight sheets to the wind, having a riot, and given that this was a mixed marriage, yes Irish to English, in fact Lancashure, I wasn't entirely sure where I fitted in. Weddings are like that, either a fight breaks out, or they become a huge melting pot of drunk people getting to know each other, laughing at the smallest things and generally having fun. This one was the latter and I did.

At one point I thought I'd arrived at a  Jane Horrocks sound-a-like convention, but they were a great laugh, and the Irish, well they were themselves, we even had the Pogues near the end, the music not the real thing. Though they are about as Irish as me.

Of course, there was a price to pay, a slightly shaky me was one of the earliest into breakfast because of the lunchtime flight back to Bristol. And I'd missed the ACG ride over some hills to the Walled Garden. So with a flurry of texts when I got back home, I found out the route, vaguely, and decided to do it. I knew I wouldn't catch them up. Mainly because they finished about 6 hours before I started, and there was no coffee stop. But it was going well, despite the strong southerly wind, until the rain came.

BBC weather on this occasion, and me with just a light gilet and shorts on. No overshoes either. I always find the best thing to do is just go as fast as you can to keep warm. And I did alright considering the depredations of last night.

Maybe I should do it before sportives, there's a thought dook,

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/404515