Highway to.....

Now that the weather has warmed up a bit, I'm getting to really enjoy the rides home on the bike now.

I've been doing some completely daft hours for a while now (not exactly by choice, I might add) which means quite often when I'm either going to or from - or on a really bad day, both- I'm the only soul on the road.

After a long, frustrating, sweaty day I find myself really looking forward to the ride home. There's the familiarity of the bike, and the fact it does exactly what I tell it to do. It it isn't ordered what to do and doesn't ignore criminality for the sake of public opinion. Our senior management are so paranoid in the post G20 climate that in a potential public order situation we have to be facing virtual armageddon before we are actually told to go and deal with something, even when it is blatantly and clearly illegal.

I'd dearly love to divulge more but I can't for the usual reasons.

So yes after a sweaty day I find myself looking forward to the ride, the familiar v-twin thump and buzz through the footpegs, the cool night air rushing through the flip top. I don't scream home, just pootle along, having some wind down time.

I note with irony the recent media hoohah about overtime payments. Already, my neighbours are giving me wry looks when I talk about the most recent debacle of a 16 hour day. Thing is, I'm not interested in the money. Overtime is for young single people, or those who aren't young but want to be single. I have a family and I'd much rather spend time with them. I'm fed up of being told about the latest first thing the little one has done by text message, or watching a video of it when I get home.

I'm earning nowhere £52k! That sergeant clearly didn't have a day off in a year. Crazy fool.