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Tom's Day 3 Notes: (he seems to have more energy to gossip than I do right now)
So, Day Three didn't come with an in-built name (One: The First Day, Two: The Day of Death), so whilst cycling during the day I've been mulling what to call it.
Early on, it was The Day of Rural Life, what with the visceral smells, grumpy tractor drivers and astonishing diversity of roadkill.
Then it became Day of the Puncture; the first breakdown with kit since my overpriced water bottle from Condor Cycles self-destructed in a light breeze.
Day of the Killer Caravans had a brief moment in the sun. Just because they don't go anywhere quickly doesn't mean they won't brake suddenly. Good to know my brakes work though.
But the ultimate champion, was Day of the Levels. The ever-fragrant international wine critic, Polly, of indeterminate age, had promised that after merciless Dartmoor, the rolling Somerset Levels would bring some relief. Yes, and then again, No. They were lovely. Eventually. From 5pm onwards...
Saddle sore, but bolstered by a cheap Chinese take away, we limped off to our bunk beds.
Supplemental:
1. We hit 20% of the target distance today
2. Rob, who seems to be trying to set the record for fastest ride from LE to JO'G on a crap bike, urgently invested in a new wheel (his first having died by Day Two). The wheel cost him £30 quid, increasing his total outlay on his bike to £130 quid. Go Rob! We think he is paying homage to Trig from Only Fools and Horses.
- comments
Pol I agree - Go Rob! (and Dan!)