On yer bike: Slap's Surrey Hills shindig
There's no doubt in my mind. It's unequivocal. Upon opting to reside in Southeast Asia, we also unwittingly opt to regress a century or so. This is by no means a bad thing, quite the contrary, in fact. Modern life is officially rubbish. Modern life is pricey, pretentious and full of Polish people. Modern life is fast, unforgiving and four pounds a pint. Modern life is slavery; a social chain gang - relentless tedium with occasional masturbation and kebab breaks.
A very wise man once said that when the going gets tough he couldn't speak more highly of a pint of Tia Maria, some crack cocaine, and an hour's worth of red-hot carnage with a Bratislavian immigrant. But I have implemented a new - perhaps more wholesome - system which curtails the monotony of modern day living in the western world.
I simply call it: "Get on your bike and ride until your brain goes numb"
It's an extremely efficient means of hopping off the conveyor belt for a few glorious moments, and of course, come the end of the day your ale has been well earned.
In the Surrey Hills yesterday and I quickly became aware that they hadn't been named by mistake:
Draggy ascents under the canopy cover went on for miles.
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Finally descending into quaint little villages...
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...with big pubs.
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Found a local shop. No Lau Khao present. Always extremely displeasing.
Bottle of water and blueberry muffin sufficed.
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The vehicle
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That blueberry muffin made me hungry. Spot of lunch in a pub, I think.
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Masculine fare...
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The village green opposite the pub would shortly host a cricket match...
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That's how we currently roll, folks.