Across Continents

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I couldn’t recall being explicit about it, but, Tim explained, he’d realised from the blog just how protective of my trusty steed I was. Always careful to leave it in view, where no-one could bump into it. No exceptions. I was quietly impressed, and meant to say so. But we’d much to chat about, and less than twenty minutes before I’d need to return to the road. My travelling companion leaning patiently against the wall below the pub’s bay window.

Tim had caught up with me south of Clevedon and a few short-lived but ominous snow flurries. Dashing on ahead to find a warm cafe or pub to grab a warming coffee. I really appreciated this, both for respite from the elements, and a chance for an, albeit brief, catch-up with a great friend and stalwart supporter. Did I have time? Yes. Of course I did.

South of Thornbury, the previous night’s stop, I soon picked up a familiar cycle route around Bristol and over the Avonmouth bridge. I’d used it a few times and always got wet. Today had been no exception. A steady, penetrating drizzle. Easing for a brief period whilst I’d stopped to do a live interview with my local community radio station. Then quickly onwards towards Clevedon and tonight’s target of Taunton.




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