Please don't get me wrong, I have an amazing family made up of furry and non furry soul mates. The most memorable times in my life are when we are all together. Holidays in the Scottish Highlands; traipsing along the SW Coast Path; lazy Sundays curled up together in front of the fire.
However, in the corner of my heart there is a glimmer that desires a solitary adventure. Cycling is one of those pastimes I love to do alone. It is the ultimate indulgence sitting just on the edge of selfishness.
On my own I come and go as I please. I can potter or blast at my discretion. I feel no desire to go any faster than I like. Or faster than I dare. Everything is wonderfully under my control.
It's not that I have serious conversations with myself. I don't. No deep connections with my innermost desires. It doesn't even focus my mind particularly. There is just a focus on the next hill - the next mile - and maybe the next tea break.
What I love about the solitude is the silence. The physical silence and the quietening of the mental chattering. Just for an hour or so the radio in my head is tuned perfectly. No static at all.
Now Mrs Warrick has had a few weekends away recently. Off to France with her dad; a visit to some horse show or another with her friends. This turns on a green light to plan a weekend away on my own. Two whole days of wholesome selfishness.
With only a moderate fitness I am think of something around 50 miles / day. The Devon Coast to Coast is looking remarkably appealing. 100 miles across 2 days. Close to home and a proper adventure. I might just need to buy a new tent, maybe even a new sleeping bag. Oh no, what a disaster!