We could start with a newly wed Michael Winner style review of where he would never take his new (first) wife Josephine to stay but my view of life after 6 days at sea is that it's good to focus on the positive.
Fizz Friday and waiting to be picked up in a layby, you wouldn't think it would be that hard to find a clean bed for the night but it's half term so folks in these parts are declaring a full house. For the last time in months.
Fair enough but Ironbridge was 16 miles north of my rescue spot and cheating won't work so I want to stay in the first likely place. Finally, I see 'A bird on the Hand' in Ironbridge and see it as a sign (my Godparents were Maurice & Eileen Bird RIP). Only it's full.. the lovely chap behind the bar says though he suggests somewhere likely to have beds at this time with the sort of face that says 'If you are desperate'. I go where he says on the basis that a bed is a bed. It is. But sometimes, the only difference between a 'yes' and 'no' is a clean (I checked) laundry set on the bed because it was 7pm and I simply wanted a hot shower. Making do with a cold shower having taken the stable was tough.
Meanwhile doing a swift army march in the bracing cold back to the 'Bird in the Hand' things are really cool. If you look as desperate as me, they give you chocolate cake with ice cream -awesome - even after they have stopped serving. Only problem is that with the prospect of turning in to that awful room, Fizz Friday turned in to a late one which is tricky to justify with 160 miles over the next two days to do.
The cleaner thought she was seeing a vision as I went in to pay for my pleasure this morning. I could have done a runner - perhaps should have done a runner - but as discussed don't complain. 'But there's no one here to cook your breakfast'. 'I didn't know there was anyone staying'. That will be because I doubt the tax man will ever know I stayed either. Cash only and no record of my details. But that's not my focus - I just want to leave - as there are other things to do today.
Saturday morning 8am, I couldn't wait to go back south 16 miles. Yeah, right. The truth is that it nearly bloody killed me. To spend a whole hour, after refusing breakfast this morning (you just wouldn't risk it - yes, that bad) the night before, going back to the beginning of an awful route is terribly demoralising. Even if is Saturday morning. Perhaps especially because it's Saturday morning.
Still, after an early late start on the day's mileage to Warrington, I did quietly well, considering the miserable weather. Mile after mile of cycling caution until it was getting later and later with only a brief stop for soup and a pint after a particularly scary set of junctions, 'A' roads and dual carriageways. Even a last minute diversion due to full road closure didn't harm. What's 10 miles out of the way on an 80 mile day anyway?
The Morrisons shopping bag spotting continued unabated today. Don't get me wrong, I've seen loads of other supermarkets but the very noticeable thing is the number of bags of their shopping that get carried around. I know Morrisons is a Yorkshire company in origin so I guess I just feel silently cheered on when I see them. Not so silently when a car whizzed by me with a very large LUFC logo in the back and I broke out in to a spontaneous cyclo-dance of joy (wait until you see in on You Tube Sis) at the sight. I don't support any team but I'm hoping to get a season ticket for my 40th next year on the basis that it will be way out of my comfort zone to watch competitive sport!
All in all, I had an awful route, not a bad day, as an increasingly tired cyclist. Tonight, I realised that nothing is given, routine or straight forward on this Tour. The skill of flexibility is a skill I've really had to re-learn - mixed with a lot of caution, a big dose of (often black) humour and a twist of lime (not darkness). Anything that can go wrong, might go wrong. There are so many factors to long distance road cycling that are outside of our control. It offends my OCD that even where there are cycling routes, they are debris strewn obstacle courses and you are better taking your chances with a HGV.
5 miles short of target I saw a place next to a petrol station on the left that said something about 'Happy Days Motel'. I was so intent on making Warrington before nightfall though, I'd have slept in a hole to over shoot target but not much further past on the right as the light faded fast, the street lights stopped and the cold mist started to descend, I knew the way forward was about not being stupid. Stopping at a country Inn that looked like a fantastic cosy Saturday night in spot, I asked if they did rooms but a soggy smoker lurking outside said, "Not here. Just back up the road there's a place'.
So back to the Happy Days and a very warm welcome which nearly earned kisses all round. So used to LEJOGers are they, they even have a brightly coloured sheet to put down on the floor of my room so I can sleep with my bike. That's a funny thing too. I'm not really one for possessions (unless it's my lifelong book collection) but I've developed an umbilical cord with my bike and I need to be near it. It's a bit like being on one of those programmes where an expert teaches a novice how to fool another expert in a competition that you're not the novice and someone with 20yrs experience comes last. Deep immersion conditioning - maybe there's a Type A in me after all!
Even better news though was the sight of the bath (last one was Dartmoor) and the clean, warm room where the TV was on the wall, not sitting on the floor with the live wire dangling off the wall. The pub that was the last pub before darkness did great food. Plus the cabaret was a welcome comedy from a group of Warringtonians who'd probably have been better in McDonalds since they vociferously didn't want to wait for a large table order of Hot Rock food. The dutch South African Landlady has introduced some fabulous food concepts to these parts and their amusement value beat the X-Factor (which just isn't doing it for me this year).
I'm pleased with myself today. I've done a lot of hard miles. Steadily. Plus caught up and not let everything get me down. I actually feel quite cheerful though that's possibly because of one of two things:-
(1) I've just read in one of those magazines that I only confess to looking at the pictures in, that George Clooney is only with his latest squeeze because he has two films out and he needs to have someone gorgeous dripping off his arm by way of a comfort blanket. Everyone would think he couldn't pull otherwise. I'll never be an A-List celebrity skinny minny gorgeous thing but I've kept my eye on him for 15yrs since the first series of ER and since I don't want marriage or babies and could fancy endless weekends away in the Cotswolds for as long as he can spare, think I might have to try to ambush him at the next window.
(2) My Mum & Dad arrive tomorrow with a shopping list of items that very hopefully (though unlikely) includes my son and an assortment of random items like bin bags (they are so necessary as everything is growing mouldy after the continual deluge). If all else fails though, I've asked for Mum's home made treacle tart and chocolate cake. If only one, treacle tart.
Well, you're only a kid once and it's nice to have something familiar. My children will ask for Yorkshire Puddings, Onion Gravy, Spicy Fish risotto and Shepard's pie if they become charity nutters. My taste buds are salivating at the prospect!!
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