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Cycling south and west, parallel to the river. The first cup of tea of the morning is beginning to kick in, or perhaps it's just the cool air rushing past me. Swans squatting in the beer garden of the Green Dragon. The morning sunlight drenching the house on the corner of Ferry Lane and Water Street until its pale green paint glows.
It doesn't happen every day. For three months of the year it's dark when I ride down Water Street. Sometimes it's raining. Sometimes it's cloudy. On the days when the sun and I are in the right place and the right time, though, this is the best part of my day.
It doesn't happen every day. For three months of the year it's dark when I ride down Water Street. Sometimes it's raining. Sometimes it's cloudy. On the days when the sun and I are in the right place and the right time, though, this is the best part of my day.
