Sometimes it’s the room that’s calling the shots. Today’s choice was between 56k and about one of elevation, or a tad over 80, with about two and a half. The former was too feeble, the latter decidedly challenging: we’ve done the distance before, and the elevation, but never in combination. But after recent exploits, and feeling stronger and more capable by the day, there was only one real option.
And then came the wind. YeGods! The BBC had assured us ‘light to moderate’. Hah! It was at least a southerly, which meant in theory it would be crosswinds rather than anything more gruelling. But in the event, the wiggly road meant it was all over the shop. One minute you’d be basking in a sort of kindly helping hand, more or less pushing you up the hill; the next, you’d turn a corner and into the teeth of the gale, dodging tractors and livestock cartwheeling down the road in the opposite direction. Tiring? Just a bit.
The only real saving grace was the weather, wind aside, warm but overcast. Full on sun would probably have tipped us over the edge into madness.
On arrival at our destination, we were doing our best to locate our b&b, not helped by the tall houses, narrow streets and consequent risible reception, when typically a friendly face called from above, “Where are you trying to get to?” The friendly face didn’t recognise the address, so he called for “my woman”, who appeared, and wasn’t too sure either. She called down to an old lady in the street, and before long the three of them were engaged in a lively discussion, which culminated with some decidedly confusing directions. Quintessential Italian!
Speaking of which, I feel a little ashamed to mention it, but our b&b host is a lovely, large, jolly Italian parody: “The-a bathrooma eesa here. The shower eesa smalla but ita worka very wella.” And so it doesa.
And now we’re ending the day delaying our departure in hopes the torrential rain will let up, after probably the largest pizzas I’ve ever seen. And even I finished! Must have been hungry for some reason…
Almost forgot, when we’d finished with the confusing directions, “my woman” asked where we came from. London, we told her. “Where in London?” “Crouch End.” She didn’t know it, but “I used to live in Wood Green.” Jens: “I live in Wood Green!”
Small world!
