100 Days of Happiness: I Want To Ride My Bicycle…

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike…

As you may have used your super-detective, Sherlock-style skills to surmise (Exhibit 1: Exaggerated use of Queen lyrics), I went on a bike ride yesterday.

I haven’t been on a proper bike ride in yonks. You might be now be sat there thinking, what’s she on about, a proper bike ride? What exactly counts as an improper bike ride? Here’s the thing; I’ve been cycling quite recently. But exercise-bike cycling, rather than wind-in-your-face, hair-in-your-mouth, oops-my-helmet’s-about-to-fall-off cycling. (Although maybe that last one’s just me. I was borrowing my sister’s helmet, after all).

wpid-img_20140726_081657.jpg

Not my bike, not in England. Is my photo though!

Anyway, I pestered my dad to take me on a bike ride until he finally gave in, spent half an hour pumping up my sister’s bike tyres for me to borrow because mine’s too small, and then only to discover the pump didn’t work), and fiddling with adult-sized-yet-somehow-too-small bike helmets (hence borrowing my sister’s), until we finally set off.
I’m not a big fan of the exercise bike, but I’d forgotten how brilliant freewheeling down a hill felt.
What made me even happier was that tea was one of he few meals that classes as an all-round family favourite- penne pasta with a cheese sauce and spinach, and a walnut-and-toasted-bread topping. Or, as we know it, that yummy macaroni cheese thingy. My favourite meal, it really boosted my mood and made the end of the weekend more bearable.
What’s made you happy lately?
An Overthinking Teenager
Advertisements

Say Hello!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s