I have bought myself an electric bike, nicknamed the Millennial Falcon, and it’s the best thing ever.
Since most of my possible routes into work are now blocked off with those massive plant troughs in the middle of the road, I needed an alternative to the car. My commute is now fifteen minutes each way, as opposed to anything from twenty minutes to an hour by car.
I am quite a wobbly, nervous cyclist, so Cat Daddy has arranged for his friend Gerard – a qualified cycling coach – to give me some lessons. Gerard is very nice but I don’t really want lessons because I hate people looking at me when I cycle. I always make sure I get to school long before the kids, and leave after them, for this very reason. But Cat Daddy has gone ahead and booked the lessons anyway, so I don’t have a choice.
Cat Daddy’s Helpful Comment of the Day: “It’ll be fine*. Gerard does this for a living, and he will have seen plenty of people who are as bad as you.”
Him: “Well, ok, maybe not QUITE as bad as you.”
Him: “Anyway, he likes a challenge.”
*Non-Brits: when a British person says “It’ll be fine”, you should be very concerned indeed. If they say “I’m sure it’ll be fine”, expect the apocalypse.
When I used to drive home from work, Louis Catorze would always be aware of my arrival long before Cat Daddy heard me, and I imagined this to be because he knew the sound of the car. After switching to the bike, I didn’t think this would happen anymore, since nobody really talks about cats knowing the sound of bikes, nor am I even sure if my bike has a sound as such. But perhaps I had underestimated the little sod and his creepy kitty sixth sense because, when I arrive home, he never fails to greet me at the door. (Unless Boys’ Club is in full swing, in which case he doesn’t bother.)
Here he is, pictured mid-shake and, therefore, not looking too brilliant. But at least the Millennial Falcon looks good.