Fifth week on the bike

Monday - chickened out, on the basis that I'd cycled yesterday and I was a bit sleepy.

Tuesday - cycled in, and the journey was entirely uneventful. I kept being passed by a lady with two baskets on her bike, then passing her at each set of lights. And I got in late, having set off late, so I could enjoy the lovely breakfast my wife made me.

And then it all sort of slowed down... It's cold now, so I've chickened out completely (with the exception of the forthcoming tube strikes perhaps). Hmmm. I will have to try harder. 

Fourth week on the bike

Monday - Tube strike? What tube strike? There are advantages to this cycling thing. Bumped into Ben and Emma coming through Covent Garden, and attempted to look composed. Haven't asked them since, but I probably failed. It's not pretty when I exercise. Ride home this evening was definitely the fastest yet.

Tuesday - Riding in, I nearly ran up the back of another cyclist, when my front brakes demonstrated themselves to be more worn than I thought. Might need to tighten them a little. Made it home in plenty of time to eat with my in-laws.

Wednesday - no cylcing today.

Thursday - into Kings Cross, on to Lynchwood from Peterborough Station. I've now got this route perfected. Home and filled with curry by 8.30pm.

Friday - no cycling, I was meeting Rob for pie.

Sunday - we disappeared to Richmond Park to see deer beating the crap out of each other. In the end we spent two hours in a nice pub near Barnes, then took the train to Wandsworth High Street and cycled back through the park. Lovely.

All in all, about 75 miles. After taking a week off, I don't think I'm quicker overall, and my legs are aching more than they were last time I rode. But they'll get better again. It just means I can't take any more holidays...

Not cycling, in Portugal

I like going to Portugal. It's always warm and sunny, the locals are never surprised or annoyed when you don't speak any Portuguese (I try, but I always end up just speaking bits of Spanish by mistake, which is probably more insulting than speaking English), and they have an abundance of waterparks. I also like waterparks.


This week in Portugal consisted of:

Saturday: Went to hotel, after much confusion finding the hire car. Cooked a nice spaghetti thing.
Sunday: Went to supermarket and picked up food. Went to bar for happy hour, staggered down to pub down the road and had terrible burgers.
Monday: Went to Parque Naturel de Rio Formosa (I think that's how it's spelt). Failed to encounter a striking member of the coot family. Did see fish jumping out of the water though. Cooked the rest of the pasta.
Tuesday: Went to Zoomarine. Ate an entire piri-piri chicken.
Wednesday: Reacquainted myself with Phantasy Star for the Master System.Visited nice restaurant in the mountains and ate wild boar and goat.
Thursday: Went to Slide and Splash. Ate pizzas for dinner.
Friday: Visited local beaches. Ate a big steak and half a pingu icecream.
Saturday: Went home.

I will look back on this epic blog post fondly. Or, more truthfully, it'll be a useful memory jogger, but little interest to anyone else. However, when currently-pregnant friends are parents of children of about 3 or 4, we may suggest a week in a villa in the Algarve for all of us, so Elissa and I can throw the small children down water slides (and so the parents at the theme parks don't look at us suspiciously).