Not a good couple if days. If we'd been at home we would be enjoying several hours of social time at The Good Bean, with everyone else. At least we'd have good coffee (hello Europe is anybody listening?) But we're riding to Paris and we kind of have an itinerary, so we're on the bikes in the cold and it's raining, that fine misty dribble that numbs the ears, your fingers, your entire face and then your toes when your socks are soaked through. Funny the postcard farms and picturesque villages all look a bit depressing when everything is grey. Still we persevere, 110km ahead of us to Brugge. That is until Wobbly Wheels takes a stack on the slippery bikepath and goes down in front of a line of cars. Sweet jeezus I almost lose it. He is ok but you never want to see anyone let alone your partner in crime down for the count. A swollen knee, skin off the elbow and bruised shoulder is the final list of injuries. It's cold and wet and WW is not impressed with my naviguessing (I swear this GPS belongs at the bottom of a canal) so we cut today's ride short and head to Ghent (so incredibly beautiful) and catch a train to Brugge. The 75km ride we did manage in the end is no small feat and we're rewarded with possibly the best hotel so far with the Grand Hotel Casselbergh, in the city centre. I like to think of it as a very expensive painkiller.