The snowdrops are out.

We discovered this on an abortive bike ride yesterday; abortive because I got a flat tyre about twenty minutes into the ride, so we had to push our bikes all the way home, smiling grimly at all the ancient walkers who kept addressing us with witty comments such as "Shouldn't you be sitting on that?" as they strode on past us through the mud utilising their ski pole thingies to the full.

It was a pretty walk though.




And apparently the cyclescheme vouchers which will enable me to purchase my new bicycle (so that I no longer have to borrow Steve's clapped out one) should be here in about ten days, so that's exciting. (Don't feel too sorry for Steve, by the way - he destroyed my original bicycle before he did for his own.)

Tonight will not be exciting, however. It's onwards to Crawley, or, as I think of it, to the armpit of the South East. Just think, only another ... hmmm ... 16 months of gruesome Monday evenings till I'm done with this course. And tomorrow, after work, my annual mammogram. Not sure which event will be more painful...