Cycling is an idiot’s pastime.
Ten years ago a dear friend of mine was diagnosed with terminal cancer and his dream had been to cycle (he was a lycra-wearing cycling nut) from London to Paris. It was decided we had to do it, so along with 10 colleagues we organised a ride to do exactly that. A month later, in March, they rode and I drove a support vehicle (a minbus loaded with cake!). Four days later we were on the Trocadero after 300 odd miles at temperatures of 1 degrees, some very odd hotels and some very lengthy diversions. Nine months later my friend had passed away. The entire school voluntarily attended his service of thanksgiving. He was and still is greatly missed.
So ten years later it was felt we should mark the anniversary of that original ride. Two of the originals plus my colleague’s son signed up with me doing all the logistical support etc. but this time Lancaster to Whitby as our friend ( and father) had been a proud Yorkshireman. So here we are
and the weather is warmer but the hills are bigger and longer and steeper and sharper! I thought I had a grasp of English vernacular but this week has been an eye-opener as my three riders have cursed their way across the country from one gradient to another. And every night they have remarked about what a bloody good time they’re having as they raise a glass to absent friends. Absolutely insane but bloody lovely people to know and be with.
This week’s show is a prerecord as I am doing the above but it’s still top-notch entertainment featuring Hooray for the Riff Raff, Chris Bathgate, Whiskeytown, Richmond Fontaine amongst many others. As ever…
