Rain, splashing on my arms as I cycle on, deciding to my surprise not to stop and put on the waterproof jacket tied around my waist. I want to feel it on my skin, direct connection, nerve-endings tingling with joyful awakening.
Hail, pinging off my handlebars, bouncing off my knuckles. Tiny balls of ice that draw laughter up from deep within my stomach, bursting forth into the humid afternoon air, enormous and insignificant.
The Thames, whipped by the wind not into a fury but a dance – neither choreographed nor graceful, it seems instead wild and carefree, celebrating the sheer delight of being present in that moment, which for fleeting instants I share.
Sunshine, bathing my skin in luxurious warmth as I leave the storm behind me.
(After having my bicycle stolen two weeks ago, I am overjoyed to be back on the road this week after a wonderful friend lent me a mountain bike. It is amazing how great an impact a small, kind gesture can have)