Anyway, it was lunchtime, or in retirement parlance, just after breakfast, so the forest was deserted apart from me and about twenty deer, as I pedalled along in the sunshine the coconutty smell of gorse wafted over me, causing great angst. Why? Let me pontificate.
Surely in colonial or maritime circles the coconut was discovered by said settlers or shipmen familiar with the smell of gorse, so why isn't it the gorsey smell of the coconut?
Over the past three days the oak had produced new leaf, so that the bare trees of Thursday were now covered in brilliant lime green (Goddamit, there's another one, surely it should be new oak green) foliage. Thus buoyed by the sun, the trees, the turning wheel of the seasons, and the azure undergrowth, I continued on my way, only stopping to berate some children intent on making a foray off-piste, irrevocably damaging my droopy blue friends. Yes, I was happy!
