(Okay, I owe you people an MA post from ten days ago. I'm slack and slow, but it's the holidays now, and I'm rocking an Easterly lethargy. It'll happen eventually. Carry on bating your breath.)
Post last week's thievery, I've visited seven bike shops in the past three days, as well as hovering obsessively over gumtree and ebay, half-hoping my old bike would show up there and I could get all righteous on somebody's ass, but equally terrified that my own simmering rage would force me to confront a giant bastard brandishing boltcutters in my face and sneering. No sign of the bike, though, so that particular scheme is on hold. I did, however, get a solid education in south Manchester bike shops; the main lessons being that (a) even very cheap new bicycles seem to be way more expensive than they were thee years ago, and (b) all secondhand bikes are the hand-me-downs of very lanky men. Us short-arsed ladies are not being catered for. Anyway, I then retreated posthaste to the internet (my spiritual home) and eventually found a relative bargain. I decided to sit on for a couple of days so that I could do some mulling, but needless to say, I quickly got bored of said mulling and yesterday afternoon I got the tram over to Heaton Park Cycles, as recommended by local shady character Adam Comstive. And as it turns out, the very nice old man who runs the shop has a good cheap hybrid that should do the trick nicely. Can you imagine - a real live shop outdoing the internet? I was astounded, I tell you. So I'll head back next week (once him indoors who can work the horseless carriage is available to ferry me about once more) and lay my money on the line. The rest of that afternoon was spent buying new locks and lights on ebay. I haven't reached the ripe old age of almost thirty by paying full price for things, oh no, siree!