sunday morning in the loveless household, the day's are finally getting longer, i'm aware that it's light and that the sun is shining but, the pull of the land of nod is too great, so, beat me up, we are a busy family, me and the boy jack are up at stupid o'clock everyday for work, mr's b does silly hours and home late everyday and jess? well, she's in the sixth form, you don't realise how hard it is putting your make-up on and talking to people on the phone, i drift into conciousness again, the dog's are stretching and sleeping respectively on the end of the bed, better get up then i suppose, drinking tea in the garden, still chilly but the first real spring morning, breakfast, mexican flat bread, eggs, veggie bacon and portobello mushrooms, more tea and off to walk the dog's, can't believe how quiet it is, there's nobody about, home, another brew and i try and get my list of job's prioritised, cut the grass, clean the car, clean the windows, sort out the security light that's given up the ghost, mend the airing cupboard door, fuck that, it's a lovely day, the first day of spring proper, 'just nipping out duck, the battery on the sporty need's charging, be half an hour' mr's b isn't impressed, i change into my riding kit, leather jeans, goretex jacket and dig out my trusty arai full-face, why didn't i clean the fly's and shite off the visor before i put it away for the winter? start the bike up and listen to the steady ruummpp, daruumpp, darummp, ruuummmp as the sporty vibrates down the drive of it's own volition, the sidestand threatening to flick up at any time and deposit the plot onto the tarmac, dangerous phones me, 'is that your bike?' ''yep, you should have motted your bike tosser, told you it was going to be a good weekend' my bike promptly splutter's to a halt, dangerous has been out on it last week and ran the tank dry, wanker, i scrat around the shed and find enough fuel in various can's to top the tank up, i'm just about to set off and dangerous trap's on his neighbours honda hornet thing, off we go, up to clay cross, chesterfield and call in at the harley dealers, the tea bar isn't open and we console ourselves with looking at the sad bastard hoggie's buying bubble wrap crap for their wank-glides, up to curbar, traffic thinning and so is the temperature, we are a long way above sea level here, picking our way around the frost damaged roads of the high peak, down through froggatt edge and call in at 'outside' for tea and toasted tea cakes, i don't know what it is about 'outside' but the young ladies who work there are stunning, replete we trap on, back onto the a6 north towards buxton, i've never had a run at these corners like this before, there's usually quarry lorries or john deere's in the way, almost always on the apex to a decent bend, cut back on the 'secret' road, onto the 515 back towards ashbourne, turn left onto the via gellia and y'all know what time it is, this is derbyshires answer to the tt course, frightenlingly fast, stone walls, damp patches, [on the roads, not just the rider's calvin's] pass the wanker on his kawasaki race rep, threepenny-bitting around the corner's on the drop into cromford, left turn clyde. the traffic is tailing back down the a6 and all the bikes are doing that, throttle, brake, fuck, watch the bus, twat! you can't do a 'u'turn thing, i can't believe how busy it is in the 'bath, first time i came here was almost forty years ago, it was a january afternoon and i was riding a puch vs 50, hand change moped, i got a cuppa and nearly fainted when the hot-aches kicked in, you tend to get cynical after all those year's, but, the lad's on their automatic scooter's profiling through the main drag have as much right to be there as anyone else, today, everything was different, i kept my cynicism in check, there were some great bike's out today, just because they don't fit in with your idea of 'cool' doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with them, the wes cooley '34' superbike replica, the triumph, uncle bunt hardtail, the goldstar, the lambretta with the stunning air-brush artwork, the sidevalve harley, the brilliant bsa goldflash, spring's here england, let's play some jesus and mary chain........
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sunday morning in the loveless household, the day's are finally getting longer, i'm aware that it's light and that the sun is shining but, the pull of the land of nod is too great, so, beat me up, we are a busy family, me and the boy jack are up at stupid o'clock everyday for work, mr's b does silly hours and home late everyday and jess? well, she's in the sixth form, you don't realise how hard it is putting your make-up on and talking to people on the phone, i drift into conciousness again, the dog's are stretching and sleeping respectively on the end of the bed, better get up then i suppose, drinking tea in the garden, still chilly but the first real spring morning, breakfast, mexican flat bread, eggs, veggie bacon and portobello mushrooms, more tea and off to walk the dog's, can't believe how quiet it is, there's nobody about, home, another brew and i try and get my list of job's prioritised, cut the grass, clean the car, clean the windows, sort out the security light that's given up the ghost, mend the airing cupboard door, fuck that, it's a lovely day, the first day of spring proper, 'just nipping out duck, the battery on the sporty need's charging, be half an hour' mr's b isn't impressed, i change into my riding kit, leather jeans, goretex jacket and dig out my trusty arai full-face, why didn't i clean the fly's and shite off the visor before i put it away for the winter? start the bike up and listen to the steady ruummpp, daruumpp, darummp, ruuummmp as the sporty vibrates down the drive of it's own volition, the sidestand threatening to flick up at any time and deposit the plot onto the tarmac, dangerous phones me, 'is that your bike?' ''yep, you should have motted your bike tosser, told you it was going to be a good weekend' my bike promptly splutter's to a halt, dangerous has been out on it last week and ran the tank dry, wanker, i scrat around the shed and find enough fuel in various can's to top the tank up, i'm just about to set off and dangerous trap's on his neighbours honda hornet thing, off we go, up to clay cross, chesterfield and call in at the harley dealers, the tea bar isn't open and we console ourselves with looking at the sad bastard hoggie's buying bubble wrap crap for their wank-glides, up to curbar, traffic thinning and so is the temperature, we are a long way above sea level here, picking our way around the frost damaged roads of the high peak, down through froggatt edge and call in at 'outside' for tea and toasted tea cakes, i don't know what it is about 'outside' but the young ladies who work there are stunning, replete we trap on, back onto the a6 north towards buxton, i've never had a run at these corners like this before, there's usually quarry lorries or john deere's in the way, almost always on the apex to a decent bend, cut back on the 'secret' road, onto the 515 back towards ashbourne, turn left onto the via gellia and y'all know what time it is, this is derbyshires answer to the tt course, frightenlingly fast, stone walls, damp patches, [on the roads, not just the rider's calvin's] pass the wanker on his kawasaki race rep, threepenny-bitting around the corner's on the drop into cromford, left turn clyde. the traffic is tailing back down the a6 and all the bikes are doing that, throttle, brake, fuck, watch the bus, twat! you can't do a 'u'turn thing, i can't believe how busy it is in the 'bath, first time i came here was almost forty years ago, it was a january afternoon and i was riding a puch vs 50, hand change moped, i got a cuppa and nearly fainted when the hot-aches kicked in, you tend to get cynical after all those year's, but, the lad's on their automatic scooter's profiling through the main drag have as much right to be there as anyone else, today, everything was different, i kept my cynicism in check, there were some great bike's out today, just because they don't fit in with your idea of 'cool' doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with them, the wes cooley '34' superbike replica, the triumph, uncle bunt hardtail, the goldstar, the lambretta with the stunning air-brush artwork, the sidevalve harley, the brilliant bsa goldflash, spring's here england, let's play some jesus and mary chain........
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