A rescheduled 7am work shift to start Sunday morning.

The reason for the re-working of the rota was because I wanted to roll out on the CTC club run at 9am.

I did the work, took a look at the local weather forecast and thought F-that.

Come 9am and of course it was blue skies and brilliant sunshine.

Hey bicyclist haterzs of #WeirdWiv: are you sure you can see me?

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Have bicycling legs, will travel etc.

And so I set off on my own abridged ride.

I always race in rainbow colours. Chapeau!

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This was the first morning of the season for the full on cycling gloves. I also looked a TREAT in my latest rainbow cycling tights.

Point Clear was the planned destination.

Anna and I were going to head out east yesterday.

But she chose Cumbria instead.


Point Clear is a place that has fascinated me for some years. The very name suggests the end of the world – the end of the Essex world, anyway.

I have stood on what is optimistically called Brightlingsea beach and looked across to the other side.

But I have never passed through Point Clear.

It’s not far from here – a brief 20km or so on the tourer bicycle.

The route was a little lively. That couldn’t be helped with a one road in, one road out approach.

I stopped off first at St Osyth. Our only connection is that this is where Daisy and Dotty were from.

Or so the story from Mad Brenda the Cat Lady goes.

There was a third sister – and even a brother. Anna and I often talk of tracking them down and reuniting the cat clan together once again.

On Sunday morning though I found a couple of car boot sales and a bingo emporium.

Digging in the North East Essex crates, innit

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The first roadside sale was very cheap, and very cheerful. If I was being polite then I would describe it as tat.

Welcome to St Osyth. This is NOT an Emily Thornbury type post btw. Phew

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I stopped outside the run of St Osyth holiday entertainment facilities. This is the North Essex equivalent of The Strip in Vegas.

nom nom nom, YEAH?

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I took a couple iPhone snaps before asked by a security chap if I was a “terrorist.”

How very dare you, Sir.

I had shaved before the 7am work shift.


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I had a shifty around the second car boot sale. The Guns and Ammo caravan store has me feeling a little uneasy.

I saddled up and cycled down the track towards Point Clear.

My directions deviated. I ended up doing a circuit of what appeared to the world’s largest caravan park.

And that was Point Clear.


Point Clear. End of the Earth, innit

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It was very peaceful at the waterway where Point Clear, Brightlingsea and Mersea Island all look across the great divide at one another.

I ate my packed lunch, recorded some hit and miss audio and buggered off back to base.

That’s another one ticked off the Essex bucket list, then.

The skies bruised as I reached Alresford – around 5km from home.


I hid away in a bus shelter, pretty much opposite to where we picked up Daisy and Dotty from almost a year to the day.

I pondered dropping in on Mad Brenda once again to see if the lost sister and brother were still knocking about.

The downpour subsided, and I completed my journey.

I longed for more time in the saddle, but I didn’t trust the weather. I completed a few circuits around the town, to bank up some extra km.


Anna’s homegrown harvesting instructions had been left out for me.


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Job done, luv.

I settled down to watch the Man Utd Vs Everton match.

The rest of Sunday was then lost in a Radox bath.

I fell asleep with 606 on in the background.

Dotty circled the bath, curious about the aroma of Radox.

Not the most productive of days, but one that passed by rather peacefully.

Cats in a bath. They're right bloody pair

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