It was nice and sunny on the east side of the Pennines, but as soon as I travel west bound, it turned bad.
Forecast said hail. The first wave of hail was more like sleet, they were tiny. Just when I thought it stopped, we rode down to Manchester, only to meet with more proper hail. Unlucky for Verity, she had not got motorcycle padded trousers. I worried about the side of hailstones and denting little Rome.
Hail is officially worse than rain.
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