A day of three halves, I would judge. Up at stupid o'clock, having blissfully conked out through a monsoon. On the road for seven, and then a glorious ride to the coast over Romney marsh. Having to get to Dorking via Brighton for 10.30 means not much spare time for rubbernecking, which is a shame as before you get to the coastal strip of Hastings, Eastbourne et al, is a gloriously deserted, shabby/beautiful/industrial bit with a kind of spooky feel to it in the early light... Maybe all the aircraft that piled into the marshes had something to do with it, RIP, lads, sorry for all that noise and I really must repack those silencers. Getting through endless ribbons of God's Waiting Room to the London road tried my patience pretty sorely, then it was full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. And cameras. Bloody things, even Ceaucescu's goons couldn't think that one up... grr.
Then up to Azcari, the guys that supplied my navigation gear, for a photocall with the Surrey Advertiser and the crew from Combat Stress. Thanks, one and all, nice to put faces to the names. If you're into motor cycles and travel, these are the guys you need to see, and they have the full range of Husqvarna bikes too, which are achingly gorgeous to a sad ol' bikie like me. Finally, to west Sussex, to stay with my cuz and his lovely bird, and now I find I'm going to the 50th anniversary bash of the local Hunt Supporters Club, blimey, will it never end? (Chid and Leck, for those interested) I'm taking the bike, and a load of calling cards, just have to keep plugging away.
Big thanks to Alex and Simon for last night, I really needed that. I never imagined that riding every day could catch up with you quite so insidiously. Tomorrow, yet another Big Push, I'll sneak up on the coast early and catch the bugger by surprise....
Photos from day 27.
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