The Last Thing To Feel

A fairly windy day in South Oxfordshire and Berkshire and leaves everywhere – making some lanes treacherous; here and there being whipped up in swirling eddies; being caught in gusts and giving form to the wind that you’re riding through. There must be a specific combination of factors that are making so many fall so quickly.

I wasn’t feeling morbid at all, nor down nor depressed nor anything negative; I just found myself thinking about riding alone, being off-road in some unfrequented corner of woodland, falling off and not being able to help yourself … and dying there, to be covered by leaves in just a few hours.

It’s not inconceivable. And a solitary life shouldn’t be equated to a lonely life. I can easily imagine a life lived largely alone; a combination of factors that could lead to a happy, contented, solitary cyclist falling off and not being missed by anyone for too long to be useful.

And if that someone were me? I hope I could accept my fate. If I wasn’t in pain, I hope I could resign myself to what was happening and what was going to happen. I hope I’d be able to enjoy feeling leaves fall on my face. That wouldn’t be a bad final sensation.

A public bench, falling apart and covered in leaves.

Don’t sit still for too long.