Waterley Bottom

And then it rained in a very edifying way indeed. Languishing in Bath youth hostel waiting for a little meteorological mercy, I took the edge off the emptiness with a little daytime TV. On some morning magazine programme a fellow was showing how he could help people on their life journey with just their date of birth and a photo of their front door. On another channel was golf, which is good for golfers in the way that heavy rain is good for ducks. On another was a news item about the Queen's sodden visit today to the Yeo Valley yoghurt factory, which I passed pretty regally myself on Wednesday. The Queen must know quite a bit about industrial processes by now, having been shown so many. Why do we like to show the Queen all this stuff? Does she substitute for a parent whom we want to tell us well done - a kind of transferential national supermum? Who knows? She probably doesn't - I doubt yoghurt-making processes are a private interest, although no doubt they're engaging in their way. Anyway, I wasn't allowed to blow the telly up so I turned it off and jumped on my bike, checked the instruments and took off into the Cotswolds.
It's a little-known fact that 37% of the world's 'sham, drudgery and broken dreams' consist in a four-mile stretch of the A46 just south of the M4. Very busy, very fast-moving, as well as narrow, hilly and windy, and with Carmina Burana booming constantly in the mental background, it is the epitome of cycling hell (well, apart from Halfords). Add the pouring rain, the slippery road, and my glasses steaming up so I couldn't see much more than fast-moving coloured blobs, and there's a voyage of mortal peril that I dearly hope my mother never finds out about. Once again, I want to emphasise that it's not a perilous road, but a road full of perilous people (with a couple of exceptions) all too greedy with time to slow down - they'd rather put my life at risk.
Coming off the Cotswold edge into the valley and another problem raised its boily head - floods turning the roads into rivers. With local advice, I managed to avoid the worst of it and didn't have to ride through anything deeper than a foot. Just before I reached Cam I saw a sign to Waterley Bottoms and stopped to take its photo because I felt an affinity. I now have Hotley Bottom and Waterley Bottoms - I want the full set. Cam is a fairtrade town (I wonder if the local Quakers were involved in achieving that) and v cycle friendly (unlike the much larger Bath that ought to know better). A narrow cycle lane offered great views of the Severn estuary that I'd have stopped to enjoy were it not for all the edifying rain running down my neck and chilling my spine. The floods have closed many roads (and railways) tonight, and I might have some problems getting along tomorrow. Still, where there's monomania there's a way.
David