Dan Morris: Checking in at the oasis of life

Ok, I’ll admit, of course, that my January wasn’t exactly ‘dry’. Truth be told, there were a couple of glorious evenings when it was downright torrential. 

Yet, over the month as a whole, I was a relatively good boy who concentrated on bringing the dad bod back up to scratch rather than drowning it in Guinnessy goodness.

Now, however, the cat o’nine tails has been put away, the cilice is back in its box, all repentance and mortification of the flesh in payment for the gluttony of Christmas is done with, and it’s time to get back down to the boozer.

As someone who enjoys a pint or 10 with his pals, it is nice each year when the veritable post-yuletide purgatory is done with, the bank accounts are back up to full strength, and we can all enjoy a few guilt-free beverages once again.

The end of that frosty first month of the year is, of course, also good news for the publicans who are attempting to make an honest living, but suffer during the January lull.

There are many reasons that the coming of February tends to herald a brighter mood among the general populace, not just excitement about enjoying a nice cold beer after having done your ‘time’.

This week I’ve seen the weather getting a wee bit better (touch wood).

I’ve even dragged the board shorts out of the shortest winter retirement they have ever suffered, and have been prepping my old velocipede for the inaugural bike ride of the year this weekend.

Cycling has always been a tonic for my soul, and while I love Christmas, the negative thing that it and winter represent to me is that, for a time, the bike is better off in the shed.

Sure, the roads around my parish remain populated with lycra-clad warriors during even the chilliest months of the year, and I applaud them.

I’m just not made of such strong stuff myself.

I do remember one fateful December 27 some years ago when I enthusiastically joined a cohort of cyclists on a crimbo limbo pub pilgrimage.

This turned out to be an exhilarating experience, yet, simultaneously, a complete disaster.

For one, the planned ride was much longer than I had anticipated, and I was ill-equipped and poorly dressed. And secondly, every planned pitstop dematerialised when it was discovered that every hostelry on our route was shut for the day.

Saddle-sore, shivering, and decidedly malnourished, I vowed to leave such excursions for the pros in the future.

However, when the weather is fair (or at least fair enough), one of my happiest places in life is to be astride my faithful green Diamond Back, feeling the wind cut my cheeks and breathing in the smell of the woods in the air.

There’s something about the rhythm of the road in combination with sights, sounds and scents you experience with rural cycling that just instantly chills me out and gives me perspective.

The problems of the working week melt away, or, at least, are reduced to the significance they actually deserve, rather than being ogres that have been allowed to grow and paralyse you.

There’s a lake I always pull over at whenever it is on my route.

I may only stay still by its side for 10 or 12 seconds, but even one fleeting moment next to it is bliss.

Nothing disturbs said lake’s peace, and the only thought that has ever rung through my head when I’ve been on its shore is that everything is going to be OK.

Oases are very important in life, whether these are clear, calming waters or a beloved pub you’re looking forward to returning to after a bit of time away. 

Whoever you are, you need your ‘me time’. It can be difficult to get, so make sure to get it when you can.

Here’s to the coming of spring, dear readers. Hopefully it won’t be long now until the board shorts can be joined by their old faithful pal, Captain Hawaiian Shirt.

Have a good weekend, all – I’ll see you at the bar.