Fare thee well

I awake to the depressingly familiar sound of rain hammering on the motorhome roof. My heart sinks. I had gone to bed last night with a glimmer of hope that I’d awake to brighter skies than those I’ve been trapped under for the past few days. Alas, all hope is quickly extinguished amid the continued squalls of driving rain.

While I wait for the kettle to boil I question my mental resolve and the ability to cope with another 200km in the wet, least of all on my birthday. To make matters worse my shoes haven’t dried from yesterday’s deluge.

I try to focus on staying positive, reminding myself that riding my bike is an experience to be enjoyed, but try as I might my mind soon fills with voices of doubt and negativity. In the end it’s left to the words of Harrison, my four-year-old son, to provide the ray of proverbial sunshine I need to help me through the coming hours.

‘Happy birthday Daddy,’