While cycling home from work this evening, a flash of paranoia made me hop the front wheel of the bike in the air. It hit the ground softly. Shit.
Four punctures in four days. The only explanation I can imagine is a piece of glass has embedded itself in the tyre. Hello bike shop in the morning to look at new tyres, and new inner tubes. It’s going to be expensive - our local bike shop only sells big name labels; hardly important for a bike that goes from our shed to the office and back five times a week.
I have no right to be angry about punctures - I’ve somehow managed to survive for three years without a single puncture.
Perhaps this is karma?