Andre the Giant

I have a new bike. He is black and shiny and I love him. He is called Andre after my favourite Princess Bride rhyming giant (Giant *is* the bike's make after all...). I have a terrible habit of giving things ridiculous names based on terrible puns (cf. my car - Rolf Yaris). I can only apologise.

I haven't cycled since I tore my knee ligament a few years ago playing rugby (I was never any good - hence the injury!) so it was a bit of a shock to the system to make my first commute today. I've been feeling guilty about driving to work every day for ages so now I'm planning on making it my new regime, and I'm hoping I can keep it up. Trouble is, after only two half hour rides I am utterly saddle-sore in places that are unmentionable on the Internet. I am planning on using my sewing skills to create some sort of hilarious cushioned fun-fur saddle cover to make me feel like I'm riding on my sofa. It's the only way forward - being Green*and* indulging in my craft addiction.

The other problem is the fact that I cycle on a canal. Getting on and off is not exactly easy and I feel like I'm taking part in a triathlon when I heave Andre onto my shoulders and run up and down the steps. It's not really me, I am far too weak and pathetic, so a non-step-related route is required. Along with a body that functions ...