A Bike with a Basket

My God, I've been depressed a lot lately. Actually, it's been quite a few months; probably since the middle of last year, and now it's February. January was the pits - really, it was bad. I sat in the corner, a lot. Reading books, knitting, hiding from the world and feeling, well, sad. I don't know why I felt such a misery-guts, but couldn't be helped and sometimes these things just happen, reason or no reason. Not that I've got a special reason to be cheerful all of a sudden, but all of a sudden I am. Anyway, come-what-may I might as well make the most of the rest of the day, put my chin up and move my best foot forward, not that I'm sure which foot is the best foot to put forward at the moment ... But, back to the bike. Like I said, it's high time I got back on my bike and stopped behaving like Edgar Allen Poe on black Friday. Actually, if I had my way I'd have a little cart pulled by a billy goat instead of having a bike, but I'm not sure that the road rules allow for goat-drawn carts these days and it would be hell on wheels trying to get insurance out of Ms Aami-Gio et al, so a bike it will have to be. A red one, with a basket (wicker, not plastic), and a bell. Not a cow bell or a goat bell, although that would be pretty cool, but just one of those old fashioned bells on the handlebar that goes "pringg". And no silly streamers or sissybars or newfangled stuff like that, just a genteel lady-bike with a wicker basket. So today I have packed my basket with a jar of freshly preserved sugar plums, a large thermos of tea and a book called "The House at Seas End" by Elly Griffiths. There is a large joint of lamb slowly roasting in the oven downstairs and the smells are wafting upwards to greet me in my bed. There will be sugar plums and ice-cream for dessert and a delicious evening sipping cups of tea tucked up in under the covers with a book. There might even be room on the end of the bed for a little white puppy. And I find in these simple things, that I am indeed quite content.