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I missed capturing a moment as a digital image today, because I didn’t have my camera with me. So, here it is translated by my brain from the image formed in my eyes.

Our bus approached a deep flood in the road, water arcing up on each side. Kids in grey hoodies ran alongside, exhilarated, trying to get soaked, dolphins surfing the bow wave. Sun shattered the water drops into sparks, igniting their smiles.

I realized afterwards, with sadness, that I’ve reached an age where I would have been angry, not excited if I were in their position. But, I did see the moment of beauty and appreciate it, so perhaps I’m not irredeemably lost.

Today we said goodbye to Martin - a friend from work who is going back to the US after two years of penance in the UK. Martin came here, with his wife and 6 month old son, from Hawaii. He emailed me before they arrived with a few questions about housing, transport, nice areas to live and so on. My first question to him was, “Are you completely insane? You live in Hawaii (sun, tropical beaches, mountains, relaxed life-style) and you want to move to Oxford (rain, historic buildings, more rain, cold).”

Needless to say he didn’t heed my warning (they never do), and he and Lisa had to buy a lot more thick jumpers than they expected. Martin is one of the most laid-back, funny and cheerful people I know, and we’re all going to miss him a lot (not least because he often brought cookies to work for everyone). One of the toughest things about academia is the impermanency of it: you get to make new friends, then before you know it, they’ve moved on to another contract, often in another country.

Anyway, next week, Martin and his family (now incremented by one - a new British-born son) will leave the rain and Fire Strikes and go back to sunny Fresno, CA. We wish them the best of luck, and reserve in advance a space on the floor to put our sleeping bags when we come and visit. And have the chocolate-chip cookies on standby, Martin.

In the little coffee room on my floor at work, a fridge-freezer has just appeared. It’s a standard domestic model, only distinguished by the sign on the door.

“Experiment in progress. Do not open.”

I am aflame with curiosity. What’s the experiment? Why is it taking place in a fridge? What dreadful calamity would befall me if I took a peek? Is it all a Cunning Plan to stop people stealing this guy’s milk? I guess this is why scientists can get into so much trouble. One minute you’re thinking, “I wonder what would happen if I dropped a lit match on this large heap of grey powder?”, and the next moment all that’s left is a pair of smoking boots.

Once again, the heavens opened this morning while I was cycling to work. I know I go on about the weather a fair bit, but;

1) I’m British, and therefore obliged to squeeze weather-related conversation in at every possible opportunity. 2) I cycle almost every day, and therefore have much more contact with the weather than those who commute by bus or car. Literally.

This morning I discovered an unfortunate side effect of the recumbent position: when you’re wearing a waterproof jacket and over-trousers, the angle between your upper and lower body provides an excellent container for rain. By the end of my journey this morning, I had a small ornamental water feature in my lap. A certain amount of slopping occurs around corners and as you accelerate and brake, so some of the water inevitably finds its way under your waterproofs. I can see that there might be a minuscule but grateful market for recumbent-specific clothing, which drains the “lap pond” away safely.

Sometimes it’s just nice to potter. Work is, by necessity, so focussed on getting results in the shortest possible time, and the remaining time so packed with other chores that need to be done, that I really appreciate being able to just potter without any pre-determined goal. This morning was a pottering morning. Being a geek, this meant tinkering with a design for a gallery for this site (not quite finished yet), while listening to a great Sunday morning mix of Beck, The Velvet Underground, Jimi Hendrix and Peter Gabriel, and singing along cheerily. The aim was not to finish the gallery (which is just as well, because I didn’t), but just to fiddle about with it, and by messing about find out what and how I wanted it to be.

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I had my second fun ride (ie. not to work) on the Kingcycle today. Mr. Butshesagirl and I devised a fun, but not too hilly route, trying to avoid very busy roads. Then we just got out the door with the bikes when the rain started. Why does that always happen?

We doggedly carried on, but decided to truncate the route a bit. I’ve discovered a couple of things about recumbent riding. 1) You can go flippin’ fast on the flat without much energy expenditure. We got onto a bit of flat cycle path, and before I knew it, my speedo was reading 20 mph, and I was going “Wheeeee!”. 2) Hills are tricky. Of course, any human-powered vehicle is only as good as its engine, and mine is a bit knackered. I’ve never liked hills (in the upward direction), and I see no need to start liking them now. My problem at the moment is that very steep hills require me to go into the very bottom gear, and there’s nowhere to go from there but get off. The gears are slightly out too, so the rear mech unexpectedly jumps from 1st to 3rd gear, ruining my nice steady cadence. That’s my story, anyway, and I’m sticking to it. 3) Hill starts in a big gear are nearly impossible.

Still, the whole thing was fun, despite the rain, especially the long, swoopy bends.

Today’s shouted comments, from teenagers crossing the road:

“She rocks! Are you going in for the Olympics? [To which I answered, yes, of course] That’s a BAD bike! [By which they meant good. I think]

This weekend, Oxford Town Hall is packed out with Olympic standard beer bellies, all doing their best to get their way through 120 real ales and 18 ciders and perrys at the Annual Oxford Beer Festival. Mr. Butshesagirl and I went along last night to sample some of the nectar on offer. Well, it’s only polite. We decided to start with cider (I spent my formative years in Bristol, and unlike many of my friends, didn’t develop a learned aversion to cider from over-indulgence) - mixing beer and cider is a bit of a bad idea.

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Two weeks ago, Mr. Butshesagirl and I visited Kevin at D-Tek in Ely, an Aladdin’s cave of recumbent wonders. We’d been thinking for some time about buying a recumbent bike, partly because of my slightly dodgy back, but also because we’d tried some E-bikes and a WizWheelz trike out on a trail in Florida, and had a fantastic time.

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