YOU never really know what life is going to dish up some days, even when you’re fairly sure you do know what’s in store. Recently, while I was downing some liquid heart-starter for breakfast, the email pinged and the message said my three-day work gig was postponed for a week. Start next Monday, not this one, sorry.
Then the weatherman on the radio said “three days of perfect weather ahead, sunny, 24 degrees … ”
And so there I was, at 7am certain I was going to be earning money but bored out of my brain that day, and by 10am I was on my Guzzi heading north, getting away from the city for a while.
It was like I’d found a $50 note lying on the footpath — I…