Men's downhill

It was mad being in that owl's nest. A huge owl, the biggest I'd ever seen (and I've seen a few owls in my time).

A massive owl. 

After a while of eating mice, chatting with the wee owls and spitting on people down below, I decided I'd had enough.

"I've had enough of this silly nonsense" I announced prissily. "I'm off! Thanks for the mice."

And I jumped down from the nest, using a binbag I'd found trapped in a branch as a parachute.

The owls didn't give a fuck.

And here I am today. 

I'm going for a run tomorrow morning. It's great, running is. I feel so good after it, indestructible and violently happy and confident for about three hours. Then I have food at lunchtime and get tired, reducing into myself like a wee fatigued armadillo. I like it though.

You can't be violently happy all the time. There is a time and a place for everything. 

Here you truly feel all the seasons in the year. Summer is hot and green, Autumn is pretty and melancholy, Winter is death and Spring is life again. All are good in their own way, and all are necessary.

Winter is good if you want to slow down for a bit and read a lot. It's good for watching TV series and going for walks wrapped up. You can eat big massive meals in winter and light a fire. Only do that if you've a fireplace though.

I don't like skiing. 

I want to cycle to New York City sometime. I know it's possible, 'cos we went to a cycle cafe near our house, and they had a map showing a cycle-path all the way from the US border to New York. I'm gonna fucking do it. Me and Sarah. Tina can't, because I ride her bike. I can maybe give her a backie. I'm putting Sarah in a wee trailer with an orange flag on top, full of books and soft toys to keep her amused. And a radio.

It's not a girl's bike, it's a normal one with a normal bar across. And that is all wrong anyway, the way that girl's bikes have a wee slanty bar. It should be the other way about, as I was forever bashing my balls on thon bar as a youngster.

Food for thought, eh, Mr. Raleigh? Ya cunt.

Probably not this year, but. Probably not the next one neither. But I will. 

First I'm gonna buy a fucking owl gun though. The bastards are all over the place.