Day 24: Brugge

Plan for the evening: quiet beer, some reading of the Economist and early to bed. Actual evening: met some awesome guys from Tazmania, have (too) many Belgian beers, talk loads, concentrate on not throwing up in bed. Much better!

Met my new friend Richard for breakfast then out and about for some sightseeing. Had to got back to the hostel to get Greg though because he doesn't like getting up in the morning, lazy bum! Anyway eventually got to some actual stuff so went for coffee and pastries then to the only remaining brewery in Brugge for some morning beer and a tour. This may have been the best tour I have ever been on; lots of wee passages, backwards stairs, beer cans, beer and the soundest/ most enthusiastic guide in existence! This is him:

Also, you get a free beer afterwards! What could be better? Another highlight of the tour was going onto the roof which gave us an awesome view of the city and meant that we didn't have to go up the tower which none of us could really be arsed to do anyway. This is the Tazmanians on the roof of the brewery (left Richard, right Greg, both fucking excellent).

Off for some excellent pasta then a wee ride in a canal boat. Also went to get a map of Belgium since I didn't fancy negotiating the rest of the week by compass. Once Greg had had his afternoon nap we headed out for chips and mayo which is a Belgian thing. And when they say mayo they mean so much that you can't see your chips.

Later on we discovered the delight that is a lack of a smoking ban in Belgium. Hurrah! And... the holy grail of Jo en Europe; a pub that sold Strongbow! Yum yum yum, oh how I had missed the brutal taste!

Met some Australians (they are everywhere) so had more pints with them and decided to leave the Strongbow behind for a pub that did beers for 1 Euro. We then had to find a kebab as Richard and Greg had had one in every country they had been in on their trip. Apparently Berlin was the best and Amsterdam the worst. Brugge was ok but came with a burger bun which lost it points.

Day 23: London to Brugge. Approx 45 miles.

Up at 6am, brutal! Packed up the shit once more and headed to Victoria to catch the train. Just made it due to getting lost in South London, again! A wee nap on the train was excellent but perhaps meant that I wasn't on top of my game cause I must have taken ages to get to the boat...it left without me! Two hours in Dover then which wasn't the prettiest place I have been to on the trip. The white cliffs are still there but are slightly obscured by a massive brutal port complete with concrete and cranes and a number of rather incongrouous 70s buildings. Rank.

Anyway eventually got a boat heading to Dunkirk in northern France. Official Europe! Terror! Although I felt confident in my organisational skills in London, I realised that I had forgotten to get a decent map of either northern France or Belgium. Good times. The compass proved its worth by directing me east. Everyone seemed to think Brugge was directly east in a staight line so thats where I went.

A few hours later, in the dark, still pedalling...oh dear. Folk were now telling me that I couldn't cycle to Brugge but the hostel was booked! Onwards! Around 9pm, fucking AGES after leaving the Horse in London I arrived at Lybeers Hostel, Brugge.

Note: God knows what the employment policy is at this hostel because everyone who works there is nuts. This is one of them:

Over 500 miles done. Nice.

Days 12 to 22: London Town.

London is excellent! Sometimes I come here and I don't like it much and sometimes I think its great. This time is a good time.

Since I arrived on friday I have either been pished or sleeping. Went to a metal gig with the Horse involving a man who had 'brutal' tattooed on the inside of his lower lip. Seriously. Like this except it said 'brutal'. What an idoit.

Saturday was Brick Lane for lunch with Niall then a look about some outrageous bike shops such as this. Beers etc then to the Foundry to see Pikey. Ciders etc then got some homemade burgers and more cider. Totally wasted somewhere in Highbury. The cat escaped which caused some chaos for a bit but thankfully decided to return so I could go to bed with a clean conscious.

Sunday morning consisted of a fucking great breakfast followed by a cycle to the other side of the city. Well Kensington anyway. Back to Hackney for lunch at the Dove then pints accompanied by an Elvis impersonator. Then Tom Jones. Then Johnny Cash. Same guy, different wigs. Awesome banter.

Didn't leave the house on Monday until 8pm in order to go to the pub with Natalya and Chris. Great night, totally pished (again) but I still managed to find my way home from Tottenham Court Road sans map. Well done me!


Tuesday was map shopping and dinner at Vojtech's house. Yummy scran, loads of folk and a fucking sound workshop room! So many tools on the walls, random bike parts and boxes and tubs of screws and bolts and lots of other useful shit. Got the mudguard dealt with since it was flapping about all over the place following the ameteur repair job in Cambridge. Anyway it all works again so cheers Vojtech!

Midweek was a blur of smoke, football on the tv and mice. Oh the mice. Came in late one night, so, not wishing to irritate the horse, headed for the sofa with my sleeping bag....thank fuck I turned the light on to organise stuff cause there were three or four of them on the table having a wee scurry about! One of them just stared right at me for ages until eventually I caved and bolted (or moved as quickly as a slightly stoned slightly drunk terrified Jo can move) upstairs to the Horse who, thankfully was still awake due to a heady mix of mouse terror and the usual Horse related insomnia.


Note: Mouse control folk came soon after this event and we were more or less back in control.


The weekend. Organisation completed. Drinking can begin. Off to the Foundry which appears to have many an advantage: relatively cheap booze, lots of railings, a large pavement suitable for sitting on the ground drinking cans from the shop and its on my way home. Perfect! Lots of chat with lots of folk, too much cider and not enough dinner led to not being able to stand or focus correctly but I had a great night. Even experienced Overdrive who has his own fanclub. Also made a new friend by the name of Joe, snap.

I like London, did I say that already?

Anyway, a very quiet Saturday was had by all in the flat. Watched Ghostbusters 2 which, of course, was fucking excellent. Out and about again but this time to Portobello Road....45 minutes later still not there: London is huge! Went to see some robot animal type things made out of recycled machinery. Lots of fire and noise and excitement! Good banter. Pint and then back to the east, much better. Bagel shop in Brick Lane then to see Natalya and co. Its better in the east apparently, totally foreign sentiment! Ended up in a gallus warehouse party with my new friend... on the way thinking 'I hope this is a warehouse party we're going to and not certain death...hmmm'. But, phew! It was, and it was tres banter. Late late night followed by a cycle for AGES! Weren't even on the map anymore!

Sunday: the end of London. Good start though; breakfast of huevos rancheros, yum yum yum. Lots of snoozing meant that I didnt get to organising until 6pm. 12 hours left! Packing done, sat down to watch Bad Boys 2, which had been discussed on numerous occasions in the flat throughout the week. Especially by Murph. Enjoyably terrible is the term I think. Quiet end to an awesome week. Thanks to Ronald Street!

Day 11: Cambridge to London. Approx 60 miles.

Traffic and hills on the increase. Weather on the decrease. Hmmm...

Headed out on the original London Road through more beautiful villages. Stopped in a village I now can't find on Google maps for lunch at the pub. Loads of directional advice from lots of people which in the end steered me onto the River Lee cycle path from Broxbourne to Bow. Before I found the path I was doing an average of 20mph. I forgot that not all cycle paths are tarmac or straight or quiet. It was nice though, put some tunes on the ipod and slowly but surely made it to London. Popped up from the canal path at Bow Road around quarter to five on a friday evening. Busy!

No map of London and the new challenge of beating the Horse to Liverpool Street Station by six o'clock. After about twenty, "excuse me"s and jumping out in front of a courier to get his map, I got to Liverpool Street at ten to; just in time to phone the Bitch to ruin his bet of me not making it further than Douglas, applying the obligatory brutal eye make-up and having a fag.

Leg 1 complete!

Day 10: Cambridge.

A day of organisation and sleep.

I fucking hate folk who insist on packing every item in their luggage into the loudest strain of plastic bag and then unpacking and repacking the whole lot every morning. Grrrr....

Anyway breakfast then straight back to bed because the best time of day to sleep in a hostel is in fact during daylight hours. Up at one and out into the Daily Cambridge Bike Grand-prix. Isn't it funny how, when the number of cyclists in a city reaches a certain critical point, everyone feels the need to don their competitive cycling hats and race away from every traffic light. Most amusing.

Internet cafe for blog and facebooking then into town for luch and watching silly first years find their way in the social minefield that is university. Never a dull moment: two accidental bike dismounts in an hour and a half.

Having searched for hours last night for a decent old man pub to no avail (I had dinner at Wagamamas) I asked the man with the funny eye in the hostel. He directed me to the Live and Let Live. Awesome. Had a ploughmans for dinner washed down with a cider that wasn't Strongbow. How exotic! Met a totally gallus old man named Dave over a fag who, in the 3 minutes he spoke to me, decided that I am definately going to make it to the end of my journey mainly due to my smile.

Kudos to old man Dave.

Day 9: Thurlby to Cambridge. Approx 63 miles.

The day of dead rats. They were everywhere! According to a local in Ramsey this is due to the weather and aggressive pest control measures by local farmers. Brutal.

Into Cambridgeshire today, satisfying. More country roads and that. Slightly hillier but we ain't talking Mont Ventoux. Made some good time until a woman in St Ives directed me in the wrong direction for a bit then got lost trying to avoid an A road at rush hour on the outskirts of Cambridge. Then came the first mild breakdown. Spoke to Movie over lunch and he says casually, "any mechanical problems yet Jo?", "no" said I....4 hours later and one of the bolts that supports the rack has disappeared so its sitting on my back wheel and I can't move. Typical.

After an awful lot of faffing about which mudguards and racks and tools by the side of the road the rack is secured and away I go! Problem sorted. Although its now dark and my lights are in the bottom of one of the panniers (not even sure which one) and rush hour in Cambridge. Nice!

Eventually found the hostel, phew!

Day 8: Woodhall Spa to Thurlby. Approx 40 miles.

Woke up to a fucking puncture! Brutal. Didn't even hit the road until 10.30 due to more coffee and fags following the trauma of my first puncture. Anyway no panic because I was still in Lincoinshire (flattest county ever) and it was still sunny. Sometimes I think its not the best that its constantly flat and sunny at the moment because, lets be honest, that ain't going to last then I'll be gutted. But maybe I should just enjoy it while it lasts.

Got a haircut today, oh the excitement! The barbers shop in the wee village I stopped at looked slightly concrned when I sat in the waiting area but they shaved it nonetheless. Not very well mind you, went for a shower at the hostel and shit loads of the long stuff fell out! I wonder how long until I have nothing left....

This ended up being 'the day of the racist banter'. Met two guys at the hostel. One a fisherman from the Channel Islands and one a landscape gardener from Lincoin. Ended up in bed at 9.30! Cunts.