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.
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…]
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.