We've all been there - on holiday with a partner or a close friend or a parent - tempers fraying, walking on opposite sides of the street - stomping into a shop and refusing to come out (and once even hurling the mountain bike into a ditch in Tasmania only to be spotted by an astonished pair of Canadians as they came round the corner unexpectedly in matching red anoraks...)
But not with strangers - with strangers we are on our best behaviour - we show respect, we don't hoard the food or take the last cake, we leave the bathroom clean, we turn off the light at a reasonable hour, we don't curse and shout when they miss the turning and add an extra 10k to the trip, we don't take all the blankets when we are forced to share a bed in some one horse town, we smile gently when they eat pig knuckle even though our stomachs are turning, we murmer contentment when they hang washing all over the shared hotel room, we don't mind that they don't share our penchant for shoe shops or Joseph Beuys exhibitions, we refuse to weep when our tendons have turned themselves inside out and there is still 25k to go, we gaily pedal up mountains in howling gales when we would rather stay in bed and watch Spanish day time soaps, and of course we laugh at their jokes and at our own expense day after day after day....
Take a pedal from Santander to Santiago de Compostela in Northern Spain with an Irish stranger - and this too could be all yours - until the stranger becomes your friend, your behaviour deteriorates and you have to split before the sodding bike is thrown into a ditch....
But not with strangers - with strangers we are on our best behaviour - we show respect, we don't hoard the food or take the last cake, we leave the bathroom clean, we turn off the light at a reasonable hour, we don't curse and shout when they miss the turning and add an extra 10k to the trip, we don't take all the blankets when we are forced to share a bed in some one horse town, we smile gently when they eat pig knuckle even though our stomachs are turning, we murmer contentment when they hang washing all over the shared hotel room, we don't mind that they don't share our penchant for shoe shops or Joseph Beuys exhibitions, we refuse to weep when our tendons have turned themselves inside out and there is still 25k to go, we gaily pedal up mountains in howling gales when we would rather stay in bed and watch Spanish day time soaps, and of course we laugh at their jokes and at our own expense day after day after day....
Take a pedal from Santander to Santiago de Compostela in Northern Spain with an Irish stranger - and this too could be all yours - until the stranger becomes your friend, your behaviour deteriorates and you have to split before the sodding bike is thrown into a ditch....
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