5 pints of beer would kick my arse and leave me half dead the next day. Now, I can ride out of London feeling fine, even managing a good time home. Pick up some chips on the way, some juice and we’re done. I wonder if anyone can factor this kind of change in terms of dead brain cells? The Vol was fine for lunch but around 6pm it was chockers so we jumped on the Tube and headed to Great Portland Street and Sophie’s new pub (insert name here). They have some lovely artwork on the walls in the men’s 🙂

This morning I finally hit the 30min commute. 30:45. I prepared with two days of carbo loading (Beam & Coke). It all started easy and then I found a roadie who was actually fast enough to bother chasing. So I chased. That bastard could fit through so many gaps that I couldn’t even squeeze through slow-like. I’ve got to ditch the 670mm bars! Couple more pay cheques and I can throw some cash down on a sleek road bitch and tear up the ‘don tarmac. Thrilling. Next stop, sub-30min.