Olympian efforts

Four hours after we set off, OH and I are back from our "little cycling outing", nursing very sore buttocks but absolutely elated. We had a wonderful time cruising through a beautiful, summery East Anglian landscape, across sandy commons, past odd WWII installations, hidden farmhouses and paddocks, soggy woodland, self-sufficient plots with chickens and goats, flowers everywhere, and mown grass and watermills. Absolutely picturesque pastoral, straight from the British Book of Countryside Cliches. 

We were surprised at how little activity there was on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon -- where is everyone? On a day like this?

On our way back, we passed a couple of cherry plum trees and harvested as much as we could (probably less than a pound, because someone else had been there before us).













Took another much-needed break from cycling uphill by a cricket ground -- the quintessentially British summer spectator sport. OH tried to explain the game's rules to me as men in white socked balls at each other with windmill arm movements and ran back and forth.

I still didn't get it, and also felt seriously underdressed, so we got up again and headed home.

By the end, we'd clocked up 20 miles, i.e. 32 kilometres. Not bad for a pair of non-sporting middle-aged types!

That leftover curry had never tasted so good.