Last night, I went on an adventure. My original plan for this evening involved mainly programming and Doctor Who, preferably in the reverse order. Perhaps with a bit of laundry in order to actually have something to wear over the weekend. This plan changed rather drastically when an idiot (read: boyfriend) phoned me to inform me of his latest adventure in clumsy-land. This involved a kitchen axe/hatchet, his feet and a rather large amount of blood.
Cue flailing and panic and general worriedness. Of course, he doesn't live around the corner. Noooo, Mr Hermit has to live in a little town in the middle of nowhere with little public transport after dinnertime. For a brief idea of the travel conditions, imagine this kind of foggy weather, in a poorly lit area and add wind, freezing temperatures and drizzle.
When you're done imagining that, add 12.5 miles of cycling and you have the full picture.
I tend to avoid cycling alone at night like the plague, even more so if the path leads straight through the woods for miles on end (okay, maybe just 1 or 2), but these were exceptional circumstances. Thus, I changed into something suitably warm and took off. The first few miles were okay, but as I slowly left the more inhabited areas, the fog started closing in and everything started to look really quite different from usual. Add to that the fact that I hadn't actually ever cycled all the way there by myself... let us just say I was less than happy (and convinced I was lost at least once).
But... when I arrived, I was quite proud (and freezing, but mostly proud) and found Mr Hermit drinking a beer and lounging on his bed. I confiscated the beer and, satisfied he hadn't bled to death yet, typed up my adventure.