Sunday 19 October. By some divine providence, I’m still 15 stone 3lb.

That two-day gourmet break? Very good, it was.

Pauline and I took the rest of the week off too, but with the weather being so bad our plans to get in some serious walking came to nothing. No cycling, either. Just driving, eating, and drinking. And repairing our leaking dishwasher. Holidays don’t get much better than this…

It wasn’t just the dishwasher that gave up the will to live. I don’t know how far I cycled on Sunday because my CatEye bike computer refused to divulge any usable data. On this occasion my usual way of dealing with technical noncompliance did not work out, as the thing stood its ground and remained impervious to all threats. It has to go.

So unless anyone out there knows how to talk to intransigent bike computers, I will have to flex the plastic. What with dishwashers and bike computers and the rain, not a good week.

Failed computer or not, at least we got out on the road. Under the quilt on the Sunday morning that had not seemed likely, but at some point after the first cup of tea of the day (the best one) the wind eased and the rain cleared, and much to my surprise we were able to make the decision to go for it.  

So, a new course – or a variation on a theme, at any rate. Up to Crooklands, down to Milnthorpe as last week, then through Dallam Park where the deer roam free and down to Beetham. Turn right at the Wheatsheaf and up the long drag and over to Challen Hall and Silverdale, then back across Leyton Moss to Carnforth. 

It felt like 25 miles. Averages? That’s anyone’s guess. But it went well and, more to the point, despite my gourmandizing earlier in the week, the weight stayed off. Canapes and petits fours? Not what you’d call real food, after all.

Sunday, 5 October. 19.5 miles, average speed 15.1mph, weight 15 stone 5lb.

First, some great news. This Wrynose thing is going to be a long haul, but my first sponsors have signed up and I am reminded why I’m doing this. Your encouragement means a lot; thank you. If you’re new to the blog and would like to help, please click here.

Right. Back to the training. We had to change our route due to floods, but in general it was an OK ride. I felt we finished strong, and we did not lose any time on the last uphill section.

But what is it about cars that drive past at speed and cut in just in front of you? It happened not once but twice, cars seeming to aim to just miss us with their wing mirrors. We always obey the rules of the road, we never jump lights or ride on pavements, we try to be courteous at all times, and, although we are not required to, we are always happy to thin out when we hear traffic coming. But some drivers – a minority – just don’t want us on the road. Their lack of tolerance and their inability to think through the possible consequences of what they’re doing is alarming. It’s not Grand Theft Auto out there – we’re flesh and blood.

Speaking of which, still 15st 5lb. It is just possible that the excess baggage I’ve collected over the years is turning into solid muscle…

During the summer – if that’s what it was – John and I were on our usual Sunday ride when a fellow lycra lout caught up with us. He cycled alongside for a while, chatting. Mostly to John, as I need to preserve oxygen. I don’t have enough for the cycling, never mind the talking.

I don’t know how he does it, but John as an ex-racer knew this guy would streak away. It’s cycling machismo. When they go it’s usually at the start of a hill, and sure enough, just like Lance tearing away from the peloton going up Alpe d’Huez (here and here), at the first rise this guy was out of his saddle and going at it fit to bust. But John was ready for him and tore after him – ferrets and rabbit holes comes to mind – getting right on his wheel. The pair of them were off, leaving me floundering.

I’ve said before, John is 72 next May. Looking over his shoulder our new friend started to get a bit worried. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This old guy was racing him and looking more than useful into the bargain.

They disappeared over the hill as I continued in my pedestrian way, breathing hard but keeping the pedals turning.

Over the top of the hill there was no sign of John or the other guy. I plodded on to the usual cross roads where we turn right and found John sat on his bike waiting for me, completely unruffled. We carried on with our ride at my pace.

I shouldn’t really have asked, but I couldn’t help it.

‘So how did it go?’ says I.

‘Oh, him,’ says John. ‘I knew he was going to jump us, so when he went for it I was ready.

‘He wasn’t as good as he thought he was. I let him go in the end.’

And with that put down, we carried on with our ride. It was only afterwards that it occurred to me that, if you have any sensitivity at all, you could get your feelings hurt in this cycling business. Then again, if I was a sensitive soul I wouldn’t be in this one…