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Sad Memories Today

Blog Date - 04 May 2011

I don't why I'm remembering this year, for the past few years this time of year has passed me by with only a quick thought, but this year this time the memory's stronger.  Tomorrow it will be 7 years since Cath Morris died, my girlfriend at that time.  From the point of view that this is a biking blog I'm remembering her passion for "adventures"

At that time I had an SLR 650.  It was not a real off-roader but it would go down farm tracks and back lanes very well.  I'd also recently discovered the amazing website, too.  This meant whenever we could we'd jump on the SLR and ride to another ford down another dirt track in another long-lost part of the North-West.  Most girlfriends are happy to tag along with their bloke whilst he indulges some random blokey desire.  Cath wasn't just tagging along, she'd mither me to take her somewhere even when I wasn't in the mood.  I recall her bouncing up and down like some excited kid shouting "Adventures Adventures" if I asked her what she wanted to do.

The weather never stopped her.  I took her to my local once on the bike.  It must have been minus 3 outside and I collected her and she had on her all-in-one ski suit and a bike jacket over that.  At the pub I asked if she was cold but she said no she was fine, then removed the ski suit to reveal her short skirt and skimpy top, her high heels were in her handbag.

One holiday we took in November the weather was cold, wet and thoroughly miserable.  Sat in a cafe trying to warm up we dripped large puddles around us.  I was sure she must be miserable by now, I know I was struggling to keep my mood.  I suggested we go back to the digs and dry out, she said "No way, it's only lunchtime, we're damnw ell gonna make the best of this!"  Knowing that she was happy to get cold and soaked made it a lot easier for me to accept getting cold and soaked.

Easter Sunday in 2004 saw us take a ride around the Fylde Coast.  We were riding with a group of lads and as we all sat in Bill Heads (Preston) trying to warm ourselves around a cup of tea we were all well hacked off at the torrential rain outside that was spoiling our ride.  As we climbed on the bike I asked Cath if she wanted to go straight home and get dried out, or maybe take in a couple of green lanes to detour home.  Whilst surrounded by big burly lads with big butch bikes, the only one amongst us who was still up for a ride was Cath.  We got very muddy and dirty on the way home.

Cath died a few days later. 

Memories are rose-tinted, Cath had her downsides too.  Bad memories need to be learnt from but are best forgotten.  I choose to recall her passion for being out and about and being on the bike, no matter what. 

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