Fat Bloke on a Bike

I gave a little whistle and a 'here boy!'.   Balloon Dog came bounding over.  His tongue hung out like that of a fit butchers dog, only he's a small one with overblown goggly eyes, trotting in the heather as happy as Larry and as light as air...  (well he kinda is - he's a balloon dog for God's sake).  'Away boy, away!' I cry.  And off he goes like a small pocket rocket towards a distant white post with a thruppp!, as though his knot has been untied.. C'mon children, look here!  The twins come skipping over, jumping up and down on the 5 Bar Gate's pedals.  Brooks! Hairy Melon! will you two please stop dancing and smooching and have a look at this.  Hey Audrey II, please please stay where you are - don't come up for a look.  I'll eat a photo or two for you in a moment.... We ride together up to a significant weathered white stick atop the cliff early on a bright cloudy afternoon.  It  has a few important pointers on it... Here ...

That's no way to start a ride.  I hit the twins, Hairy Melon and Brooks with an immediate 500ft climb out of Bettyhill towards Thurso today.  Well whaddya expect dummy?  It would be called Bettyflat if there wasn't a lairy hill to climb, innit? I'm now within spitting distance of John O' Groats.  I'm tired.  It's strange how a leaden feeling has descended now that I'm so close to the end.  Previous days were nothing like.  JOG was too remote to worry about it.  But right now it feels like I'm back at work with a ton to do with a hard deadline just moments away.  And with wind. I'm riding in to the face of it.  Even though the Kirkby Stephen leg was great practice for uphill into a strong breeze, today it feels like a jet of air out of a giants Dyson 'airblade' hand dryer as the sea breeze is accelerated as it is squeezed by the rising land, ripping the moisture from my body.  And like the SAS training in Cornwall its back into a...

What a glorious day.  I'm just so lucky.  The weather has been fabby and I'm nearly there.  990 miles done.  I'm in the mood to write some light poetry, Wordsworth style...  Here we go... Not a cloud wandering lonely on high, o'er isles and hills. When all at once I saw a flock.  A host, of golden sheep'odils. Beside the loch, beneath the trees. Skipping and dancing in the breeze. With imagined guns drawn whilst running away. You know, the sound of kids with machine guns, at play. Baaa ha ha ha ha ha!  Gotcha!  I fall off my bike and play dead. I've been hit in the head with invisible lead. But oh the ecstasy of looking again for the sea. The land did play games, laughing, it teased me. My crap nav told me I was almost there. But alas the road signs gave a hard stare. And say 'nah boy nah, its a bit further to the end'. 'We agree yer crap nav is crap and yes, should be binned'. The land for sure did its best to bollox me. ...

Oh hell.  It had to happen. I'm so so sorry.  All the practice and the effort over the last 4 months has now gone to the dogs.  I've tried really really hard.  It's just not easy you see.  All the hills and mountains and all of the uphill grinding has finally taken its toll.  I even did the cycling in Majorca bit beforehand to get the practice in with my mate John.  I just don't know what to do now.  All of the sponsorship and this is the end result.  I'm gutted.  Well thats how it feels.  I want to cry.  Bum.  I think I've lost some weight :-( I've tried my best.  It's been my biggest challenge ever not to lose weight on this mad dash oop north.  I've eaten so many cooked breakfasts and pies I now look like one (or the other).  Yes I was a good boy when Kathryn was around eating beans on brown toast and poached eggs but that alone surely can't explain it.  I've eaten a very large pile of cheese and...

Note this is written so that spellchecker Kathryn and ex executive whore titter Ken can keep hens elves amused :-). My com putter shell wrecker says hall his oak hay :-) Eye was very tyred this morning.  The day hoff routine his to do many thinks including to luck after you're body.  So out came the rubs and the bun cream.  This time following Catherine's recommendation on how beast perhaps to deel with a cycling initiated nappy crash. So there eye was lain on the bed, legs akimbo hen de hair, with ajar of Sudocrem hand a tissue to wipe my and hat my side.  Eye carefully put a blob of kreem on my leased flavourite flinger hand slid my and inside my shreddies hand applied sed kreeam gently with a zoo thing circular motion to the saw bit.  Hand promptly felt a sheep. Eye waked some time l8tr spreadeagled on the bed with my and stil hen my shreddies knot knowing if the made, who was busy hen the corridor, had bean in to clean the rum.   Ow deer.  Th...

Last night was a hot wet horror of a night in a small warm room.  Sweating profusely with bad dreams where I was in a discussion whether I should be buried or not - peeping from inside the coffin to the usher saying 'but I'm not dead yet..' to encourage him to postpone the funeral.  Sorry about that for a start of the blog.  I'm still not settled... Anyway what day is it today Wal?  Sunday?  Monday?  Tuesday?  Crocky Dundee style, I haven't a clue.  And have not had a clue for the last 2 weeks or so.  It's only when writing this dribble that I very occasionally look up and see the calendar atop my screen.  Just to get the day rolling its again a laundrette day to take the weeping damp wet stuff from my pannier and give them a good bath and towelling dry.  Then to a bike shop to get my last order of rehydration tablets for the last leg. The crap nav says I've done 893 miles but add a bit for the few times I've forgotten to turn t...

Should you wish to chat and say hello sometime again... wtyssen@live.co.uk Kind regards Wayne

I'm on my bed.  I'm very very tired.  It's early in a it's still light kinda way.  I'm burning up.  I have an unquenchable thirst.  My mouth is dry.  I'm somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, dreaming of a cold cold pool of deep fresh still water.  My eyes are closed. I imagine it's icy hands caressing my body, drinking it in as though breathing deeply. I so needed my electrolytic lemon flavoured bok bok last night.   With a lot more lemon and a ton of ice thank you kindly please.  The humidity was hard work yesterday on the long long drag to the top of the A9 where trains play hide and seek in the DPM camouflaged mountains.  I think I'm following spring north as the land is covered with bright yellow flowers.  Everywhere.  The river Garry shows me the way. Short steep sharp scree covered tracks that are again good for mountain bikes and brave road riders. Sustrans are trying, very trying... This is one of the bette...

Brooks.  I fought him today. Enough was enough.  Even after giving Hairy Melon a new Sudocrem flavoured lipstick the fecker was still letchery and leathery, forcing himself into her gentle bits.  Right!.  I'm gonna teach HIM a lesson. I took a spanner to his nuts and twisted them.  Hard.  'Aaarrrgghh!' he groans with taut leathery lips.  I pulled him off the bike and whilst rolling on the ground in the dust I spannered his preload.  'Ooohhhh!' he yelps.  I tightened his preload even more.  'Stoppit stoppit, I give in!'  That it.  He's done for.  He's giving up. 30 minutes later he'd snuggled back up to Hairy Melon and again started to suck and lick her sore bits and click his gnarly fingers.  The fekker!  I hate him... It just does not work.  Fighting with those you love and those you need gets you nowhere. I was a bad father to the twins.  They've been much better of late.  And thats bec...