With Mrs B2W working, I decided on a grocery errand early and skip the queues with my staff ID. NHS workers can walk straight in if we show ID at the door before 10 am. It turns out that I skipped a queue of 3 as I got there at 09.55! I bumped into a couple of work colleagues, chatted, networked even. I often think that the most productive conversations happen in the corridor rather than meetings.
Just before I got to the supermarket, I noticed a sound at my back wheel, like a stick was stuck in a spoke and was hitting the frame somewhere. I had a look at the wheel as the rear hub is a bit wobbly and needs replacement. I couldn’t see anything but the noise continued until I got to Rye Lane, an unpaved access road that takes you onto a bridge over the A120 and onto the Flitch. I stopped and had another look. Nope, nothing. I got on and suddenly PHSSSSSHHH! followed by a slow wobble as a rear puncture stopped me. I found a flat space near the bridge and set to work locating the problem. Immediately I found the source of the mysterious noise.
I didn’t bother to get the repair kit out. The screw had probably tamponaded the hole until enough air leaked out for it to push through to the other side of the tube. So I unscrewed it from my balding tyre, got a fresh tube out and replaced it in the sun. Mental note: check the whole wheel including the tyre next time, not what I think the problem is.
It was all good and it made me 20 minutes late back home freaking out about a pinch flat as the tyre pressure was lower than normal. But being a Sunday, I had the luxury of time so I didn’t hurry as I gingerly stood on my pedals over bumps on the uneven surface. Again, the Flitch was packed with leisure riders and families so even if I did want to go faster I couldn’t. After navigating my way through the masses, I was home to start on the roast for dinner and show the boys what my kind of heroes look like by watching Saving Private Ryan.
Total UK deaths: 28,446 (315)