Having battled the headwind all morning I was looking forward for a nice tailwind run home when my tyre exploded. That was bad enough, but I had just overtaken a cyclist on a hill. I would have forgiven him some schadenfreude but he instead checked I had what I needed which was kind of him. Of course I waved him on "It's OK I'm fine". It was only later that I realised I had not just had a puncture but that my rear tyre was worn right through. So now I had to work out how to get home. If I just put in a new inner tube chances are it would blow again and then I would be stuck. So I cut out some bits of the old tube and used them to protect the new one in the tyre. Somewhat surprisingly it worked so I cycled slowly to the nearest station to catch a train back to York. I had 12k to go so I took it very slowly and carefully. I stopped to check the train times on my phone and realised that I would miss the next one but only have an hour is the sun to wait; that seemed fine.
As I neared the station 10 minutes after the train was due I noticed that the level crossing gates were shut; could the train be late enough for me to catch? I wondered. Yes, there it was. I gave it a bit of jip and arrived on the platform [like an extra in a Thomas the Tank Engine story] just as the train did likewise. The bicycle storage sign on the coach aligned itself exactly where I was stood and I got the train home. All's well that ends well.
Before all this I had been to Myton on Swale the site of a grim battle 700 years ago where this sign stands
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