There was nothing Uncle Jim loved more than a bike ride, to get his bike running smoothly, and to trundle off down south in the wee hours of a Sunday morning for a 90km ride, uphill and down dale, rail, hail or shine. But Jim was turning into a grumpy old man. It wasn’t enough that he had found a hobby he enjoyed. He now found it necessary to criticise the life-choices of others, both significant others, and random others.
This all started when Jim came to the conclusion that other bike riders were spending way too much money on their equipment. Then he broadened his critique and decried those who chose to ride motor bikes through pine plantations during the weekend.
Whereas Aunty Beryl was content to have her cat scratch its jaw on her outdoor furniture, if she could continue to scratch her back with a dry towel.