3 glorious days spent cycling through the increasingly hot British countryside, taking on small hills and losing, taking on large pies and winning. Barrow-in-Furness through to Lancaster, down to Blackpool (on a Saturday night in June…!) before heading to Preston on the last morning. A few things of note along the route; the lighthouse on the hill above Ulverston when Ulverston is half a mile inland (apparently its a fake and really called the “Hoad Monument”); Stan Laurel; the hills before Cartmel that make you feel you have earned some sticky toffee pudding; the absolutely gorgeous bays and estuaries of the Kent and the Leven; Grange over Sands; the Lune Aqueduct; the elderly Australian couple (met near Carnforth) who were “almost halfway” cycling from Land’s End to John o’Groats and absolutely loving it – although they thought Britain was having a collective breakdown; Blackpool…June sun…Saturday evening…a horror show of drunkeness, sunburn and shirts off (lads…my mother would so not have approved) because that “vest-suntan” is one look that never gets old; still in Blackpool and watching the middle aged guys and galls turning up with their northern soul bags (for carrying their dancing shoes), the smartest looking crowd ever…solid style, all keeping the faith at the All-Weekender. Even the final two hours at Preston station (because a train got cancelled) didn’t bring it down.
And now I hear its cracking the flags outside Fannys, best go and check.