Missing In Action, Presumed Dead

We are driving up to the North Yorkshire coast tonight for a dogging double header over the weekend, so I’ve been undecided all week about whether to cycle today. It might be best to save my energy for the drive up, I don't want to doze off behind the wheel. In the end though I decide to go for it. Partly because I need to check out next weekend's Duathlon course and I’m running out of time to do it.

L has got me some new inner tubes for my bike, another favour I need to return. So my bike is repaired and raring to go. I make it into work with thankfully no new punctures. The weather has turn cold again though, so I needed my new kit. It was also a good call to cycle because the A52 was blocked due to an accident, so driving would have been unbearable.

It's a busy morning at work. I have two meetings and everyone wants to know about Ireland. My colleague who went with me and was full of cold on the trip, calls in sick. Somebody else who I have a meeting with is also spreading their germs around. It will be a miracle if I don't catch something. I'm supposed to be leaving at lunchtime but with everything being so mad, I'm half an hour late getting away.

Then guess what, heading out to the Duathlon course, I have a puncture in Shardlow. I replace it with one I patched up the other night. It lasts half a mile, seems my repair wasn't very good. Luckily, this time, I have another tube with me, a brand new one. I give the tyre and the rim a good clean with my gloves in case something sharp is stuck in there. Then off I go again. I alert L by text, just in case I need another rescue mission.

As I reach Kegworth, the tyre seems to be holding up so I head out to Sutton Bonington and the Duathlon course. Time is getting short, we are supposed to be picking Daughter up from school and heading straight up to our cottage. It dawns on me that school now finishes at 3.10 and not 3.30 as it used to be. Bugger. I haven't even packed anything yet. So this is not a good time to take a wrong turn on the Duathlon course but of course I do. Eventually I make it round the course and get back onto my route to home. As I go over the Dunkirk Flyover it's 3.00. I call L, telling her to fetch Daughter. I'm soon home and by the time they get back, I'm almost ready.

L seems a bit miffed that I didn’t call her earlier. I'm a bit miffed she didn't call to check I was ok. She says she assumed I was dead but she didn’t call to check in case I fell off my bike answering the call. Anyhow she’s made me a great doorstop sandwich, so she must have had some faith in my powers of survival.

We leave at 3.50, which isn't that bad or it wouldn't have been if the M1 hadn't been so horrible. L drives the first stretch, although 'drive' is not really the right word, crawl being more appropriate, while I recover from my traumatic 30 mile ride. I munch on the sandwich and an energy bar, washed down with a protein milk drink, lots coffee and water. I ring home and talk to Son, who sounds really rough; it seems he's gone down with the same cold as everyone else. It really will be a miracle if I don't get something. Once we get off the M1 and onto the A1, the traffic is better. By then I've recovered and I'm raring to go, so I take over the driving.

We get to our cottage by the coast, very nice it is too. Apart from the manic central heating that is, which means it's a bit like living in a sauna. I go around trying to turn off as many radiators as possible. The cottage could be really romantic, particularly if there was a howling gale blowing outside. L and I could snuggle up on the settee, or make use of the spiral staircase and the four-poster. Just a shame we're not alone, a little matter of Daughter, dog and parents.

All of us walk down to the local sea front chippy. The fish is excellent, the chips not quite so. Back at the cottage we split two bottles of wine between the four of us.

When we go up to our room, another thing we discover is that the cottage has incredibly thin walls. It's not even possible to go to the toilet without everyone knowing about it. So L and I sample the four-poster, very quietly.