Winter light

Ah, winter. The cold fresh air hitting your rosy cheeks. Low sun and first flakes of snow. Mulled wine, cosy nights in, warm kisses under the mistletoe...

I bloody hate it all.

Every year, from the last golden days of October, I succumb to a dark, creeping, humming panic. November is a dark month. The clock change leaves me in a listless, lethargic heap on the floor, wailing as the nights close in, the mornings ever darker. The super-bright SAD light makes me feel dazed and a little cranky. I resent having to get up in the dark, get dressed in the dark, and return home in the dark.

I've watched moodily as winter has crept stealthily around my favourite blogs. There has been talk of wooly leggings, studded tyres, and, horror of horrors, cycling in the snow. *Shudder*. It all leaves me feeling very inadequate and vaguely ashamed of myself for having given up on my twice-weekly commute to the other end of town.  I'd foolishly been cycling in the dark with no front light until recently, but realized I had to change my ways when an old man shouted "NO LIGHTS" at me in the dark.

I blame it all on the dynamo fiasco. It's a lengthy and soporific story of birthday presents, ebaying, royal mail incompetence, and inadequate wires. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say I had to bribe the technician at work with cake to get him to extend the damned thing. Exquisite craftsmanship, Mr. K.

And tomorrow, it goes on.
Winter, I am going to kick your ass.

Full parking

It pays to get to work early, before the bike stands fill up.

It's probably the nicest stable of bikes I've seen in Edinburgh, and it's great to see all the young ones keeping green, fit, and stylish. I'd like to say this is actively encouraged, but this is a place where the cafeteria counts fried chips as a vegetable.

The commute

"I choose to cycle chic, and at every opportunity, I will choose Style over Speed" 

Cycle Chic Manifesto.

Doesn't my bicycle look lovely in Holyrood Park?

This picture was taken on a soft summer afternoon, near Arthur's Seat, an extinct volcano a stone's throw from Edinburgh's city centre. Cycling along the smooth, winding bicycle lane, you can glance at the swans as they alight gracefully on the mirror surface of the ponds. You stop, laughing gaily, for an impromptu picnic on the mostly deserted lawns. A soft breeze ruffles your hair, and you let the gentle sun warm your bare skin, your toes enjoying the fresh grass underfoot...

Unfortunately, on a windy day like today, this is what it looks like:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Great day to choose for my first commute to work. Just going downhill was a struggle. The gentle incline at the bottom of the hill almost killed me. I'm pretty sure a pair of walking grannies overtook me. I huffed and puffed, grimly noticing that even the lycra-clad hardcore commuters were struggling past me. Your soft-cushioned cycling shorts can not save you now, Mr. IT Manager.

I arrived at work red faced and sweaty. Sometimes there is neither style, nor speed.