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I hate writing blogs on phones, the keyboard is too small, editing and deleting is a ballache and it just takes bloody ages, so you better ruddy appreciate it, both of you.
Where shall I start with today's escapades? The wonderfully clean Scottish air? The new game of 'fit or old' that we invented for the unsuspecting approaching females in distant view of our Savannah?, the repairs: brake pads from Halfords and also another puncture for myself? No.
Today the story starts at approximately 40 miles. Bell had just shared with me his theory that when I get married it will be to someone who wears glasses. His Mystic Meg insight comes from his idea that all glasses wearers eventually match up. ???? Anyway, he then mentioned that my kids would be specky four eyes because of this. Whatever.
Now, I'm not a man of faith, far from it, nor am I a believer of fate, karma, divine intervention or any of that bulls***, but at that very moment a mischievous looking Jamie turned the corner and fell off his bike at a reasonable speed onto the concrete ground as i watched and then dodged serenely around him. Boy did I laugh.
In more mundane news me and Titley's knees were in the wars again today, ibruprofened up to the eyeballs.
So in summary: we cycled past Loch Lomand, this is awesome. We cycled 80 miles, again, this is not.
Oh, and we thought that Garmin made an even bigger balls up than usual. Imagine our bemusement when we saw a sign saying 'welcome to Moscow'.
Ended the night with a hobble over to the 'Rod and Reel' for a pie, beer and a Rocky Road.
Warb.
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