Sunday was all about sitting in the saddle.

I had a 7am work shift, and then disappeared on the tourer out to Sunny Colch to meet up with the rest of the CTC riders.

I knew that a big ride was planned, but didn’t pay much attention to the detail.

Or the weather.

This was the first chilled ride in four months. I was under-dressed with only a gilet for outer protection.

Oh dear

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The signs were out there throughout the ride of what is to come. Early Autumn bonfires were burning garden waste out in the lanes of North Essex; the leaves had just started to give up on life.

I felt a little similar after the first 50km.

We lunched at a pub at [I never know where…]

Vroom, vroom, vroom. Bloody noisy, mate

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The pedal power was out-numbered by a classic motorcycle rally also stopping off.

There was something of a friendly mode of transport stand off.

I found my climbing legs after luncheon. The ride back towards Sunny Colch was something of a breeze.

I wasn’t paying much attention to the distance. I was surprised to see 110km clocked up on Strava when I arrived back at base.


An incredulous Buzz story was bashed out.

We have entered fantasy land with bloody Lambeth Labour. The arrogance of the arses is unbelievable.

I soaked up a Radox bath, and… that was more or less Sunday.

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