In which I kick winter's arse

After yesterday's rant about the cold and how miserable it makes me, I expected nothing less from you, Winter. I'd been muttering dark curses under my breath at night. I knew I would rise to a sharp cruel pain in my neck, and a splitting headache, the direct result of not having cycled for a week. I was delighted to wake up to your pathetic excuse for a morning - grey, dull, and utterly gormless. No really, there's nothing I love more than barely managing to see my breakfast tray at 11 am. I blame the cheese on toast fiasco on you, Winter.

Then there was all that twitter excitement about the snow. Oooh, it's snowing! It's settling! It's not settling! Snow flakes! Magical! Bla bla bla! You enjoyed that, didn't you, Winter, you sadistic little turd. But I bet you didn't see what was coming next.

I got the spanner out. Both of them. I cursed and mopped my brow and got chain oil all over my pyjamas. I was worried when I realized I had no cable ties. I caught a glimpse of defeat. I saw your smug razor sharp smile, Winter, when I turned the pedals and the loose cable got all caught up in the wheel spokes and ripped itself loose of the light. I blanched when I failed to locate the electrical tape.

I ruined my manicure for you, Winter.

Thanks to you my nails are more scabby emo than Rouge Noir.

But I will have the final laugh, Winter. It's not pretty, it's not secure, and it won't last, but: there is Light.

And a lot of masking tape. Oh, shut up, Winter.