StreetCowboy

Cycle further; its a great way to build up a thirst

Quantification never works

I don't really bother about it. In fact, I'll go further - the thought that you might have cancer never crosses my mind. Everybody dies of something, and from the limited experience I have of close family and friends passing on, cancer is as quick and clean as anything else, once you stop biking. My worry is taking a long time to die - you might as well go as soon as you stop living You might want to cut back on medical insurance, move to a country with poorer medical infrastructure, and take up with a family who have no interest in prolonging your suffering. Sadly, those that suffer from the Hippocratic oath cannot agree with me there. But they can acquiesce to your wishes SC

You can't judge all Scottish people based on those that are left in the Old Country.

Today’s station-spotting adventure took me and my colleague to Aurora, a single - track station that is being double-tracked with a new platform. My colleague led the way with his Wahoo head unit providing directions that would have been the same as my Google Map plans, barring sieve-like recollection. Alls well that ends well, and we got to the station. The next train home was cancelled for a “police investigation” - my first surmise would be a trespasser hit by train; we could do with some lunch anyway. Following the meal, my colleague set off to ride home via a different route, and I headed back to the station. - To find that the 12:55 was also cancelled! Daunted, but never thwarted, I eschewed the offer of a bus ride to the Highway 407 bus terminal, and said I would go my own way… six checks on Google maps in the first two kilometres called that into question, but once I got onto Bayview Drive, I thought “sod the preferred cycling route home, I know where this ends up”, and 2 1/2 hours of fast but tedious and busy traffic saw me parking the bike at home, a swift few pints of cider and meeting my colleague in the pub as agreed.

I could fair go a potato scone right now, and you can be sure that I would post a picture, if the opportunity arose. I prefer "familiar", rather than 'repetitive'; "predictable", rather than 'boring', "subtle", rather than 'dull', and "plain", rather than 'ugly'.

BSE is a blood disorder. It has severely affected blood donations. Misogyny knows no bounds, but we would all benefit if it did.

I suppose it depends on your point of view. You think you are healthy and don’t need medication; but big pharma needs you to take medication to start the cycle of dependency. You might want to ask your doctor whose side he is on, and see if putting your hand in your pocket could bring him over to your side.

Shame. Our own self-image, our imagination of what others might think, keeps us in conformance with societal norms. when I say “us” , I mean me and probably you, and maybe not me either…

Breakfasts. I normally skip breakfast, so I have a limited social media presence. I like croissants, but I’d not take a picture of one. Id take a picture of a potato scone, if the opportunity arose. Who would not?

It’s a tragedy - older women have so much to offer in an anonymous forum where wisdom can be offered, and regardless of our fantasies about our fellow posters, sex is not a credible option. Back in the day, I used to notice women in the street, and think “she’s nice”; then I aged, and I’d think “I bet her daughter’s nice”, and now I think “I’ll bet her mother’s nice”

Normally, I don’t group myself with braindead a$$wipes. Good on you, for your self-awareness.

I’d gone on another station-spotting adventure, and Google Maps had set me on a route I couldn’t follow, and a motorist stopped and flagged me down - “You can’t ride here - this is the highway, you’ll get arrested, it’s not safe!” Well, I clearly could ride there, since I was, and I grudgingly concurred that it was a highway, and his prediction of arrest I was not going to dispute, but so far, it had been safe enough. Anyway, the long and short of it was that I was not on the right road, and I gratefully accepted his offer of a lift to more people-sized roads. the roads from there on were as bad as I had expected - four or five lane stroads that make cycling unpleasant, but the traffic was light for the public holiday, and it was not unsafe. The stations are basically out of town parking lots, and we are working with the Corporation to turn them into a proper metropolitan railway. After stopping in the pub longer than I’d planned, I was grateful to get the hourly train back to town - with cyclists’ coach!

I got talking to a Dutch colleague, who had planned a trip out to a bike superstore in the fringes of a suburb, to check out a new mountain bike, and I volunteered to join him. It was a 56km ride - my longest ride here, albeit not long in the grand scheme of things, and modest elevations. He was using a way-finding product that took us on some lovely roads that would have been beyond my navigational capabilities, barring a stop at every second junction to check the map, so I might succumb to peer pressure to buy a specialist GPS product, with some form of way-finding. In the absence of that, I went my own way and took a wrong turning on the same on-street detour on the Humber river trail, Southbound on Saturday and Northbound on Sunday. Wrong turnings plural, I suppose.

The family were over visiting, so I missed the game; maybe just as well, though it sounds like it would have been 77 minutes of joy followed by bitter disappointment, in a low-scoring but exciting game. As I say about Scottish football, without the bitter disappointment, the sweet anticipation would be like eating only half a gooseberry.