True grit, but not enough of it

Sunshine and a blue, blue sky this morning, so I reckon I’ll ride to work. A spot of breakfast, a glance at the papers, a change of tyres on the hardtail and it’s 10am, ready for the off. Should take between 2 hours 15 and 2 hours 30, depending on lights, cameras, and traffic action.
Despite the sunshine, it is cold, and it soon turns out to be colder than I think. Heading towards Otford on the Pilgrims Way, I round a corner into frozen slush. The car behind is going slowly, so I move across the road to avoid the ice. Safely around, I move back to the left, but the back wheel goes right while the front keeps on straight. So there I am, gliding on my backside across black ice, my bike sliding in another direction like Torvil on a bad day, departed from her Dean.
When I come to a halt I jump up, and slip again. Fortunately the car stops short of the ice, and the driver asks if I’m ok. Well, apart from a bumped knee and bruised pride, I’m fine, but decide to cut short my ride, head for Sevenoaks to get the train. And that’s another bad idea – where the road isn’t frozen, it’s flooded. Turns out that gritting roads isn’t a solution to all our problems.

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