distance and detail

I headed out on the bike yesterday because, apart from anything else, my body needed it - too many days sitting in front of a computer gives me restless legs and makes me grumpy. It was a decent ride out to Renfrewshire where the skies are bigger and my mind can start to wander places. The fewer the imprints of man, the calmer I become. A far flung beach (the stormier the better) would be the epitome of this.

Turning around and coming over the Erskine bridge, sunlight was breaking through clouds which picked up Helensburgh, Roseneath Peninsula and Kintyre to my west and Glasgow, in the distance, looking dramatic the other side. Times appear hard though, coming back through the outskirts of Clydebank and Dalmuir. The legacy of December's snow and a halting of public services is now an incredible amount of litter, some of which has blown into hedges and scrub. All makes for a depressing scene: the suggestion of a place which doesn't have any pride left.

Towering to my right is the endangered species of the Type-42 class destroyer which is now being fitted-out down-river from its' place of birth. Nearer my front wheel are the grit and blaze crusts by the roadside as well as the huge pot holes I'm continually avoiding. A spoke breaks on my back wheel and I change route back to the quickest one home. There are cars everywhere as well (something I find as disgusting as litter) and I notice people have taken to parking on pavements in the past 6 years - a novel take on overcrowding. The minute I get home an old friend calls, thinking of moving back from abroad and asks for my take on Glasgow. I give an upbeat if honest opinion and we discuss the colour of grass.