Next up is a shorter read. “To the Europeans, South America is a man with a moustache, a guitar and a gun.”

Wordle 1,801 4/6 🟨⬜⬜⬜⬜ 🟨⬜🟨⬜🟨 ⬜🟩🟩🟨⬜ 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 Less sun.

Since when has resembling the maestro been an offence? I have been accused of being a Lord Sugar lookalike. (Never went to that jocular barber again.)

A drop of E5 to start the day - and a cooling run round the lanes.

Wordle 1,800 5/6 ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟩 ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟩 ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟩 ⬜🟩🟨🟩🟩 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 Brain fried by a day on the beach at Gorleston.

Painful! Wordle 1,799 5/6 ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜🟨⬜⬜⬜ 🟩🟩🟩⬜⬜ 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Bimbling about locally on the 750F. Getting the hang of it now. Needs more forward planning that the modern bikes - the brakes are very 1980s. A keeper - and another one to pass on to The Boy in a decade or so.

Wordle 1,798 6/6 “Is there anyone there?” “Not today.” ⬜🟨🟨⬜⬜ 🟨🟨⬜⬜⬜ ⬜🟨⬜🟨⬜ ⬜🟩⬜🟩🟩 ⬜🟩🟩🟩🟩 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 @comedywriter.bsky.social

Wordle 1,797 2/6 ⬜⬜🟨⬜🟩 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 @comedywriter.bsky.social Oo er.

Almost put me off my cake.

Home, home on the range. I’m sure 600 metres is getting further away.

Getting down with the cool kids at Vinyl Hunter.

West Stow Country ParkRun. I had meant to head into town to give my cankles a rest from the rutted trail, but there are no Anglo Saxon huts in Nowton Patk.

As I opened the church early today - 0615 - so did I lock it in good time. Duty done. I always call out, “ Is anyone in?” before turning the key. One day perhaps St Giles will answer.

After several weeks of trying to drive in London, it is a relief to return to the real world.

My seniors job. Unlock and lock the church.

A present from France and my thoughtful daughter.

11 years ago, The Boy took me to France for my 60th birthday treat at a favourite restaurant. Au bout de la rue, Flers, Normandy. I was riding my ex-SPG RS1150. That combination of white bike, white helmet and hi-viz can be very “traffic-calming”!

Fuelling up for a decent run through Suffolk and North Essex today. 120 miles. Coffee stop at the Colne Valley railway place. Brilliant unwind after the last three weeks of work.

Road closures. Feck

Still on tour - and back to Exeter, a fine city. Note to self: should retire again. Enough’s enough. I’m 71.

Bimble to Rougham Tower for coffee and cake. Fast becoming my favourite Sunday haunt. Must be the connection with my Dad. He was always happiest on an airfield.

Showing hitherto absent willpower, I eschewed last week’s hotel breakfasts in favour of diy oats. A minuscule PB at West Stow ParkRun, but I’ll take that. It’s a cheeky little trail run.

Popped into this fine building after work for an impromptu art viewing. Not that I have £2500 to splurge on something without two wheels. Dulwich Village. Close to my birthplace, in some ways, but so far from it, in others.

There was a theme to this year’s birthday cards.

I’m enjoying a few days in the time-warp enclave that is Dulwich Village.

Time to share a major obsession with the little folk.

Frank at 71. Why am I still working? Oh yes. Motorbike money.

Well that’s great. Most of my feed is now bike-related. What’s not to like?

Biker day. Off to Brown’s Café, Mundford. A Kawasaki interloper at the Ducati meet. Attracts all sorts.

If you’re ever on the M5, do call in at Gloucester Services and farm shop. An amazing place, free of muzak and mayhem. Proper food served by lovely people. And profits go to local causes! Makes you realise how truly appalling the usual places are!

West Stow ParkRun #6. Today I carried passengers: 4 hotel breakfasts and dinners and a sedentary week. Not ideal companions. Lumbered round slowly, mindful of the camber, hummocks and tussocks. Met another former pupil there. They’re always kind, despite having met my alter ego, Mr Cross.

Free entry. Do we ever grow up?

An ecumenical matter.

Saw Spitfire Girls today with an old Air Cadet pal. Tally ho!

Has everything gone to pot here?

The W800 was feeling neglected today. We have bimbled along the highways and byways to the Devil’s Dyke near Newmarket. Leg-stretching - both of us.

Regular use must be the key. Started on the button. Ran faultlessly. Loving this bike.

I took a break from domestic chores to attend to the green stuff outside.

A run out to Rougham Tower with my latest love interest - this 1979 Honda 750/4. 19,000 miles. We both enjoyed the blast - blew away some cobwebs.

Sieg vile!

Get the gender right, you oafs. French nouns ending in -tion are generally feminine. A notable exception is bastion, as in: “Le Daily Mail est un bastion de fiel.” (The Daily Mail is a bastion of bile.)

Ride out for morning coffee. Ducati 848 Fireblade CBR1000RR Blue sky/dry road. Bliss it was to be alive …

A rogue Honda Jazz spotted on the M11. I was driving at 70mp and it overtook me. Someone must have worked out how to disable the 29mph speed limiter.

Just tootling around town today. A tad breezy on the A14, but at least it’s summer glove temperature.

D40 has just flagged out, eh. And is now Canadian. Can’t say I blame her.

My parents were married on April 1st 1944

Another gym session. An expensive one as it happens. The car park was almost empty. I forgot to log my registration. The Gestspo office is opposite. I was an easy kill.

The gym “I speak your biometric age” tech tells me that I am now 73. I do like a challenge. Back on it.

Back to the gym after a few weeks of pie-hole activity. The rude awakening.