This picture comes up when you put ‘bicycle man’ into a Google image search. To be honest, I was hoping for more naked people, because I’ve heard there’s a whole subculture of sexual deviants into inner tubes and stuff. I even checked that I hadn’t lost my mind and turned safe-search on in a fit of madness one night. I guess this is a decent enough consolation prize.
So, anyway. I spent the end of last week having a little confidence-wobble. I put myself under a lot of pressure at uni because obviously IF I DON’T GET A FIRST I WILL KILL MYSELF, and the first few weeks of term coinciding with a new season on-sale at work and a load of family commitments sent me under a wee bit. I’ve not said “sent me under” in years. It was the phrase du jour amongst the teenage light drug users of Macclesfield in about 2000. “Woah, Phil is totally going under.” “I nearly went under for a minute then but I managed to totally Zen my way out of it.” “Your Mum’s wallpaper just totally sent me under.” The word ‘totally’ also features heavily, but then that really is a timeless classic.
Back to the point. I had a meeting with HR and my boss on Thursday and I’m changing to a casual contract so I can continue to slowly burn my retinas away in the library, while making up a bit of money in the holidays when staff with kids head for the hills. This has made me feel MUCH MUCH BETTER THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
However, I actually came to my blog today to tell you that there have a been a couple of occasions recently in which Flann O’Brien’s ‘The Third Policeman’ has popped into my head. In it, people who ride their bikes for too long start to exchange personalities with them. (When I ride a bike too long all I get is cystitis.)
I did my impression of a half-human-half-bicycle for my parents in a bookshop near Nantwich on Sunday. I’m sure you can imagine how proud they were.