Greetings everyone!



Pretty busy as usual, but I have found some time to get out on my lovely bike, Rutger.  I bought him when I was last visiting the land of the windmills and despite some initial saddle issues (i.e. I had a very sore bum!) we are getting along very well now.



I went for quite a long ride in the Netherlands last week, which was all very flat, no horrible hills, so I could take the time to admire the countryside.  Riding a bike in the NL is considered a compulsory activity and most Dutch people seem to have learned how to ride a bike before they could actually walk.  I suspect they all have leather like backsides.  You can ride along merrily without a crash helmet (in fact, anyone who actually wears one is considered a complete wuss) , you have nice bicycle lanes and car drivers know their place in the scheme of things.  The bike rules!



However, riding in the UK is an entirely different matter.  Firstly, you have to put armour on.  I have to don a crash helmet (my hair sweeties! can you IMAGINE?).  Then when you actually get on the road you have to brace yourself for motor car drivers and tradesmen in their vans driving within nanometres of your handlebars.  As a rather rotund lady in her 40's I sometimes encounter the odd wit who likes to make comments about my saddle.  At present about 20% of said comments are about how the wit in question envies my saddle and about 80% is damn glad he isnt my saddle.  As I am firmly committed to losing some serious weight on my little rides out, perhaps this ratio will change...I will keep you posted.



In Britain, as well as mad traffic, witty passers-by and cars parked in our piffling painted cycle lanes - there are also HILLS. These I have always viewed as a drawback.  However, today i went out for a little ride and after having puffed my way up a hill, thoroughly enjoyed zooming down the other side!



I suppose there is some philosophical conclusion to be drawn from this.  Yes, Holland may be flat, but the problem with that is that one has to keep pedalling all the time.  Whereas good old Blighty has horrible hills, which are to be endured before the real fun of zooming down the other side begins.



Perhaps I will approach nasty hills with a bit more enthusiasm now.



Portia