About two years ago, my partner Tony (who you may have become acquainted with in previous blogs,) decided to buy a piece of exercise equipment to which you affix your road bike to so that you can exercise indoors. It was quite expensive and weighed a ton. He announced he was going to erect the bike stand in the garden so that he could exercise to the sound of the birds.
“Lovely darling,” I said. “What a splendid idea.”
He spent a while securing it and fixing his bike to it and then at last, after an hour or so, he was able to mount up and start pedalling. I would say he was out there for at least, ooooh, ten minutes before he dismounted, came into the kitchen beads of sweat upon his brow and flinging himself onto a chair said, “Well that was a complete waste of time!” before disappearing upstairs to his bedroom for a rest. I did not enquire why it was a waste of time, it did not seem a terribly good idea.
The bike stand remained in the garden for a few weeks, the grass growing around it until I finally took pity upon it and heaving it up from the lawn, hauled it into the shed where it has remained until today.
This morning Mr. Inman announced he was going to erect the bike stand up in his bedroom and have his sport bike up there for indoor exercise and his road bike downstairs. (Tony has many bikes, bike parts, spare bikes, spare wheels etc. etc.) I commented that perhaps the bedroom was not the best place to put your exercise equipment, after all it was not a massive space and a bike stand and bicycle might not be especially conducive to a good night`s sleep. “Well that depends on who you are,” he said and duly heaved the bike stand up our very steep staircase. I should perhaps mention, we have our own, separate bedrooms.
There followed much banging, thumping, shuffling and dragging noises from upstairs, then an almighty crash accompanied by a long tirade of various expletives.
“Are you alright darling?” I helpfully called. Answer came there none.
After a few minutes Mr. Inman appeared, slightly red faced, somewhat out of breath and asked, “Do you know where the hammer is?” I walked to our kitchen tool drawer and handed a hammer to him.
“Why do you need a hammer?” I enquired.
“To put right the damage I`ve done to the spokes with that (expletive expletive) machine! It is going back in the shed.”
And that dear readers is the extent of Tony`s exercise for today………..
Stay safe my friends and where a mask.