Frustration time

It’s a bit like giving a boy a new train set, (or these days a Playstation) and after a few days taking it away again. A week ago, it was suddenly warm and sunny. The snow retreated, the roads were swept and cyclists were out in force. There were plenty of bare, pale legs to be seen pumping up and down.

Now, after three short local trips, and when there is time to venture a bit further, the sky, which for days has been leaden with masses of sand blown up from the Sahara, has come crashing down to ground level. The view from the window this morning, was a solid wall of grey. It is cold, even for here in the mountains. Big drops of sandy water are plonking down. There is even a hint of snow.

Just as it seemed that grinding away on the ancient Shorter Rochford bike on rollers in the cellar had come to an end for the summer, it is back to relying on the MP3 for entertainment while going through the sprint-and-wind-down, sprint-and-wind-down routine below ground.

Out along the lanes, the spring flowers are blossoming; droves of yellow oxlips crowd the banks, drifts of wild crocuses throng the meadows and groups of pinks and primulas huddle in the shadows. Streams are rushing snow melt down to the rivers and trees are bursting with enthusiasm.

It’s frustration time.

Coffee

Segafredo in the bakery, St Martin bei Leogang