And the ridiculous

I3/8/2018


nspired by Kelmscott, I decide to walk a section of the Thames Path (184 miles long), from our mooring at K to Grafton Lock. The Cap'n is happy to motor alone for a bit, so I set happily off.  A few hundred yards along the path, a bloke on a bike passes, with a 'Hiya'. The only person I saw on this section of the path.

The path crosses meadow flat pastures, distant cows, WWII pill box, following the river's meanderings, which is fortunate given what occurs next.

As I start towards one river J-curve around a spit, the cyclist drops his bike, discards shoes, his shirt and his shorts, standing stark naked, sees me, continues to show his expanse of flesh. My feet decide to forego the path, and take a shortcut across the meadow, leaving lumpen white biker to flop in the sun.

I ponder this strange encounter as I stroll the path, what was he thinking? Nude sun bathing hardly mixes with a public footpath.

The Cap'n looks a trifle worried, and hopes I've decided to take him along when next I go adventuring.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, in one day.

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