It's not a motorcycle, baby, it's a chopper.
As the long cold winter nights draw in, (it's getting dark early these days and though I've not done so, I've even had thoughts of putting the heating on!), there are various bits of activity appropriate to this time of year, specifically the milking of every opportunity to go biking.
This weekend was a cracker with over two hundred and fifty miles covered for no particular reason. Actually, I'm forgetting that one thing I did was to drop in on a friends exhibition in Hastings. It was dedicated to custom bikes, mainly the sort of machines built in peoples sheds or by small companies in their own sheds. It was an excellent excuse to take the long way down and discover some new roads on the way.
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As well as some stunning, exotic beasts, there were the predictable choppers; unmitigated, pointless, heaps of turd masquerading as something desirable, which, as you can tell, failed to impress me. That's me above sitting on one such pile of garbage, totally unable to understand why someone would punish themselves so publicly, yet from the look of those who had ridden there on their own choppers, they seemed very pleased with themselves.
Oops. I seem to have once again devoted almost an entire episode to moaning about these machines, which isn't much use or interest to you because you came here to find out about food, so I'll get back to the subject with another seasonal thought. We've pretty much gone past peak berry for the year, (though there are still quite a few blackberries around), but that doesn't mean that we're done with fruit.
After berries come things like plums, apples and pears. I rounded off the weekend with a visit to the in-laws where I was directed to grab a bag and pick pears from their laden tree, sagging under the weight of its sweet, ripe baubles. The most natural and healthiest form of sugar is whole fruit, so this is your opportunity to fill your face with armfuls of the sweet stuff. I'll sneak off slightly sheepishly now, knowing that biking isn't over for the year by a long shot, which means there'll be more moaning on the way.
Kirk out
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