So what, I wondered as I cycled blearily to the station, was going to wake me up from my dazed state this morning? The dazedness was something to do with only having got home at 11:30 last night, due to GNER being rather better at running a restaurant car than an actual train service, and a week of holiday lie-ins followed by three days of late nights and early mornings in Edinburgh. And something to do with having to get up at 6:15 after a wakeful night in the muggy heat. And possibly a little to do with a half-bottle of red wine on the train all by myself as there was nobody to share it with.
How about having a bright red van pull out onto the street I was cycling on – in fact right into the bit of road I would have been cycling on myself in the next second had I not been tipped off by my cycling instincts* that that particular bit of road was about to be full of van and executing a miraculous** swerve-and-wobble manouevre to a different bit of road, one that was rather less crowded?
Yep, that would do it. Woke him up a bit, too.
* Top tip to urban cyclists: if all you can see of a driver’s head is the hairy bit at the back, and not the part with the eyes in it, then he’s probably not seen you coming.
** some invocation of junior deities might have been involved.