Back in Lycra

I’m preparing for the moment when I have to slip back into the lycra. I don’t have to do any cycling (well, a few yards for the cameras at most) but I have to make my triumphant appearance at the Education Village on Tuesday, with bike and all the kit.
I’d prefer to do the cycling bit and not wear the kit but apparently they want the whole package (if you’ll pardon the pun). The thing is: I look ludicrous in lycra; everybody does, but me more than most. I thought of ringing the school and pleading with them for the sake of the children but it’s no use….Dame Della has decreed bike and kit so bike and kit she must have. I think she’s forgotten what I looked like when I turned up last time for the ride – several children went into hysterics, two newly qualified teachers fainted and then gave up teaching for good, and the school’s much loved goldfish drowned.
Well, I’ve lost weight since then – I look like so many bits of piano wire stretched over a broom handle. I remember when I crossed the Humber Bridge in high winds, the suspension wires were making a deep humming noise. If I stand out in the wind I’ll probably set up a high pitched whine and shatter the school windows.
My bike came back to the UK on the back of Myfanwy and is now in Devon so Martin at Kudu Bikes has offered to lend me another one for the day, which is a double cause for worry – firstly I might fall off and damage it. And secondly and more likely, he’ll lend me something I’ll want to keep ‘cause I’m sucker for shiny new bits of metal.

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