Fitting the Ortlieb panniers became a bit farcical today (and it took most of the day!). Fiendish. The little wordless picture instructions were basically hieroglyphics, needing a far cleverer interpretation than I could manage. But I persevered – good job no-one was filming it. But at least I now know that these bags are seriously watertight and can hold more than enough ‘stuff’. L’Anne reminded me of the old adage: ‘lay everything out on the floor that you want/need/HAVE to take with you – and halve it’. I just couldn’t manage that – too painful. She did it. So cruel.
Lights more or less sorted, incl. a heath-robinson-esque adapted helmet light. The marino-wool undies are sweltering – mind you, it was EIGHTEEN DEGREES today – that’s why we’re doing this folks! The trousers are embarrassingly tight-fitting. And at last I have purchased a pair of water-proof socks. These are NOT cheap items! If it ain’t wet and freezing, I’m gonna be livid.
Need to clean the machine – and get it serviced – gotta look good for the paparazzi at the civic send-off. The Mayor of Bideford has just confirmed that he’s going to be at Bideford Old Railway Station, robed and chained, with his Beadle – it’s all about the photo-op apparently! I still need to enthuse some good biking buddies to commit to the ride-out from Barnstaple.
Anyway, today we agreed that, in the spirit of the End of Civilisation as we know it, we would call ourselves ‘Les Quatre Cavaliers (cyclistes) d’Apocalypse’ – I, as befits my surname (Che Valier), would be ‘War’ (what is it good for?); Roger, the Scyther, obviously had to be ’Death’ (not even warmed up); Ewan is ‘Conquest’ (Tomorrow: Agincourt) and Euan, by default, will have to be Famine/Pestilence – all good positive stuff. Enough.
Just to prove my credentials as the Grinning Green Reaper here am I in action at the West of England Scythe Fair.