Kipling

It was a relief to me – as I am sure it will be to most of you, too – to find out that I did have a personality after all. Though it took some finding. But at least it's not one of those showy, in-your-face sort of personalities that, frankly, you are glad to see the back of and make a mental note not to invite next time you're organising a dinner party; but rather more unassuming and reclusive, the sort that has to be delicately enticed out of its shell. Like a snail. But without quite as much slime.

I went cycling along Lake Rudyard this afternoon; which looks quite picturesque when a low autumn sun is glinting off the water, and rowing boats and sailing boats are ploughing their gently lapping furrows to and fro. And there were ducks: always welcome to see ducks; they rather make the day complete. It is not much of a cycle ride, you might say: a straight line along the lake and back again, though you can try racing the steam train to add interest; but as it is a narrow gauge with a tiny engine, it doesn't need much effort to overtake it, provided you're not too concerned with injuring the odd dog-walker on the way. And the lake retains a certain genteel charm, giving you an idea of what it must have been like as a popular resort in the 19th century. Though I suspect the train was bigger in those days.