Let sleeping dogs lie

  It's often deemed a mistake to go round making assumptions, but on this occasion it's probably worth the risk. The assumption in this case is that at some point in your life you had a childhood. If that were indeed the case, and any of that time was spent in UK, the chances are that the picture below is a familiar sight.

  If you're up to speed with my recent activities, you'll know the last couple of days were spent in France with the management. As beautiful as our time was there, the weather reports told a foreboding tale so we cut our last day short. The short zap to the tunnel was dry and easy but we emerged the other end into the start of the rain.

  The journey home was about seventy miles, which gave us plenty of time to get soaked and chilled. While our bike gear was sufficient to keep most of the water out, a little got in. The cold however, did a much better job so when we finally shuffled through the front door, plans were already afoot for some seriously warming comfort food.

  I've no idea when I bought the can of baked beans but they have been in the back of my cupboard for eons. These are not an ingredient that have even been so much as considered for years but today, after an exhausting ride in pretty extreme conditions, there was nothing else that could be called on to hit the spot as effectively. No sooner had the journey home finished than another journey started and this was a long overdue trip down memory lane.

  Who knows, you may still eat beans on toast, in which case this will be meaningless. But if you haven't in years, I've some bad news; the memory is better than the experience. As disappointing as it was, I'm glad I can lay that memory to rest. With any luck, I'll remember to never eat beans on toast again but not remember why. What's odd is that I have a theory. It's something that occurred to me a couple of days ago and if you come back tomorrow, I'll tell you all about it.

Kirk out

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