Today has been taken up with travel. For me, going by train up to London complete with two weeks of kit and bike; meeting up with the others, packing the people carrier (aka the van) and driving down to Penzance. There are four of us plus Simon the driver. The humour was suitably boyish, the banter ranging from football to drunken mispent youths - ours, and back to football. The highlight was one of the bikes almost cutting adrift as we passed Bristol on the M4 and making an unsuccessful bid for freedom.
Six and a half hours after leaving London we cruised along Penzance's own answer to the Corniche. Amazingly it wasn't raining. Nor was it windy and when we took a pre-dinner stroll along the front, the sea was not only calm as a mill pond, but transparent, which means it can't qualify as proper English seaside where the water is necessarily the colour of tea to meet strict English Tourist Board quality guidelines.
Pints followed by plaice and chips. And then, only because of the bike ride, we indulged ourselves with pudding. Might this be the only ever attempt on the end to end where someone manages to put on weight?
Back to the hotel room. Our quintet is split between two rooms containing seven beds. This seemed a good idea on arrival just in case one of us got lucky, but strangley the sight of five middle aged gits in one corner of the Yacht Inn did not provide a lot in the way of prospects. No underwear thrown in our direction. Maybe tomorrow. But then again tomorrow we'll be too tired. And too old.
Tomorrow our journey starts and only now am I excited, even though I know it's going to be painful. It's like being excited about going to the dentist when you know he's run out of anathaesia.
Six and a half hours after leaving London we cruised along Penzance's own answer to the Corniche. Amazingly it wasn't raining. Nor was it windy and when we took a pre-dinner stroll along the front, the sea was not only calm as a mill pond, but transparent, which means it can't qualify as proper English seaside where the water is necessarily the colour of tea to meet strict English Tourist Board quality guidelines.
Pints followed by plaice and chips. And then, only because of the bike ride, we indulged ourselves with pudding. Might this be the only ever attempt on the end to end where someone manages to put on weight?
Back to the hotel room. Our quintet is split between two rooms containing seven beds. This seemed a good idea on arrival just in case one of us got lucky, but strangley the sight of five middle aged gits in one corner of the Yacht Inn did not provide a lot in the way of prospects. No underwear thrown in our direction. Maybe tomorrow. But then again tomorrow we'll be too tired. And too old.
Tomorrow our journey starts and only now am I excited, even though I know it's going to be painful. It's like being excited about going to the dentist when you know he's run out of anathaesia.
No comments:
Post a Comment