it's when it came time to wash my hair after the ride was over that i realised why the woman on the couch at debbie's seemed in somewhat of a hurry to drink her cappuccino and leave. at least, i think that may have been the reason. of course, it could be simple paranoia. i seem to have brought a substantial portion of bridgend woods home in my ponytail. imagine the embarrasment of munching my cheese and pickle roll looking like a body double from the beechgrove garden. the reason was all too obvious; that little climb to the old cottage was approached with way too little speed, and it was a foregone conclusion i'd end up exploring the undergrowth from a horizontal aspect.
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