There's nothing quite like a long drive - favourite music blasting, nobody on the phone, nothing to do but watch the road. England passing by the windows, spring budding out all over, the sky changing every few minutes - alone.
I was thinking the other day, the other day while riding through London in the sun, going down Park Lane with cherry blossom blowing in the wind that there's nothing even more quite like being on the back of a bike, that you're more alone on a bike than in a car - no music, no radio, the only thing is the road, the other traffic and mostly, on a bike you're not like the other traffic either.
I've got a couple more weeks left on the bike before putting it away under cover for a few months: six, maybe more... almost unbearable... riding it all through the winter only to put it away as the good weather comes... five months into pregnancy is enough, I think, although strangely my leathers are fitting better this week than they did last week... perhaps the blob has moved higher up and further in, avoiding waist-bands like wild-life avoiding a flood.
I'm harbouring fantasies of riding the bike all through the pregnancy and having a baby who can only be lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine... the reality is that shortly I will be putting my baby under a tarpaulin and kissing it a long goodnight.
Today also marks my first foray into marternity clothes, having grown out of all my normal clothes. Comfy, boy are they ever. Maternity clothes for the non-pregnant woman, that's going to be my crusade once this is done.