December 23rd – I was aiming for a great ride; I needed to go to Whittington to get some Christmas food in from a trader I know there. I rode out as dusk fell, but this last Saturday before Christmas the roads were full of drivers – mainly taxis and private hire, it has to be said – who weren’t concentrating, or at least not focussed. I got cut up. I got close passed. The roads didn’t feel safe, and neither did I.
Rolling into Lichfield, my nerves were shot.
The city was equally odd. This was to be the last real shopping day before Christmas, as it falls on a Monday this year, and Sunday restrictions would apply. But the place was full of high spirited drinkers and stragglers, and the atmosphere was quite hostile. I took some hurried shots, and rode home.
Not as festive as I’d hoped, to be honest…
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