So, here I am in Paris. Sunday. Just spent most of the day in the Louvre, then later the Pomidou. At the pompidou, I watched a guy hop the barrier on the 6th floor. He quickly plummeted to the ground floor dead. For a moment I thought it was an ehibit, but reality soon set in from the screams, and later, the sirens. He was led on his back all broken, a spray of blood from his mouth curving the cobbles for about a metre.

Ambulance resucitation followed, then the white veil, and the shower curtain, the red & white tape, and forensics. All this I watched with a morbid fascination directly 6 floors above. Maybe I was the person who he wanted to witness his exhibit. Was he a disgruntled artist? Was my initial thought, until i went to see the exhibits. Maybe he got claustrophobic from the 'guts on the outside' building, and the Man Ray instalations? I guess only he knows.

Anyhow, Paris.

Mona Lisa, tourists, tourism, pantheon dykes! Dykes on BIkes! Couples, male & female couples, families, kissing, lots & lots of kissing couples, Bois de Boulogne camping, prostitutes, transvestite prostitutes, transvestite prostitutes feeling your cock while frisking your pockets. Pain, Pain au chocolate, Jambon et Fromage sandwiches. Lots and lots of shit. Well, you know what they say, 'Where there's brass there's bullshit'. Or, is it the otherway round? The Pantheon was the nicest place to sit and relax. Even with Jizz hanging from the ceiling

How could it not be, with Voltaire, Hugo, Dumas et al relaxing indefinitely behind me.

Well, I guess were playing catch up with this diary. Briefly:

Wales - Tough going.
Bath -

Got drunk with Aussies and Americans, lost my bike lock keys and spent the net morning smashing my lock with a hammer in front of bemused Bathians. Then I met Helen.
Avebury -

Autumn Equinox. Crazy, CRAzY! druid Pagans. was great fun. truly. I miss crazy Andy so much. My tent isnt designed for two people. truly. English landlords are not welcoming as they should be.
Stonehenge - sucks.
Sailsbury - COmplicated, & tragic. My boob. Sorry Helen.
Portsmouth - Vive la France!
Cherbourg - Arrived late. got dunn for camping on a motorway roundabout, by the Gendarmie. Moved on.
Utah beach -

great fun.
Omaha beach - Suicide! GOd! what were the Americans thinking? More on this later.
Bayeux - Long long biased story sewn on a cloth. Source of French pomposity.
The Seine river -

Crossed the bridge from hell to get accross said river. Then crossed another. Factories & Chimneys. Lots of! Then...... Beauty, just around the corner. Visited victor Hugos' house. Was allarmed to learn just how many of the greats lived next door to each other. And there was a kitten...

Rouen. - Nice. Burn Joan, burn.


Paris. -

I fart in your general direction.

Will write more in depth, when I am not paying xxxx for 10 mins. fuckers. Nearly broke. If anyone wants to donate to the cause, then give me a shout.

Later.

Well, here I am in Nice. Its Nice here. But not that Nice. I bought some cans from Cannes too, just in case I cant sleep.

Well, Provence.... It is lovely really.

Met some great people, and got ver ver drunk with a lady called Ruth, who is nuts.

I visited a place called Arles. Or, 'Orse Arles' as it became to be known.

Turns out, Van Gogh spent a bit of time messing with sunflowers, bridges , ears & oil paint here. Nutter. Anyhow...

I saw a place in Provence called Les Beaux, and just thought I shoud visit to see if it has any significance. Turns out it is really really beautiful.

Not like most dykes I know!

I passed a villages called Bras, on the way there, which made me laugh hard.


St Tropez Sucks.

In fact most of the cote d'azure sucks, because I cant find anywhere to pitch my tent without getting hassle from the rozzers. So I am presently sitting in a cafe in Nice contemplating an all nighter on my wheels.

Speaking of wheels. I was I Aix-en-Provence. on the pavement, checking my map, when a frog in a van pulled out of the drive bay next to me, and reversed into me. wanker. buckled my wheel. Spat at him etcc. I remeber seeing his reverse lights come on, then thinking, 'surely he's not going to reverse....Oh he is... Shit!'. Then later that day I got a puncture and was tlold in French by another Frog to 'get orf' my Laaand'. Wanker. I showed him two fingers. It was really the day from hell to be honest. refused money from my bank, moved on camping at 1am by land owner, vultures circling around me in 30 degree heat. etc etc. So much to say so little time eh?

Oh. just met a guy from poland, on his bike in Nice.

He cycled from Poland, which Isnt as far as me!! I didnt get his name, but he told me he was on his way around the world. Good on you anyway. And, I liked your improv Dynamo/phone charger. Maybe market it?

There is something important I want to say, but cant remember. Dammnit!!! Will, think in time.. Oh YEAH! ChateauNeuf Du Pape!!!!! LOL!

Later.

Chiao!
I am now in Florence.

It is really very beautiful, and it has made up for the pain of cycling th Ligurian coast. That isnt recommended my friends.
Well, I left Provence, and headed up the coast, couldnt find anywhere at all to rough it, so I carried on to a beautiful town called Menton.

I found a kiddies play park. And camped there. was a great night sleep. something to do with returning to ones childhood i reckon. did think about the fine line between being a nonce for a while.
So, Monaco was nice from the mountain tops.

the castle looked cool. However, i wasnt interested about the view, as the ride up the mountainside shocked me to say the least.
The Italian border was very relaxed. And, crossing the tunnel, I couldnt help but hum that Pizza pie... amore song.. Then sanity got the better of me.

I headed down the coast. which was nice.

However, the effort reminded me of the Welsh coast, only with furnace like temperatures. St Marguerite was beautiful.

Then Pisa, which only made me laugh hysterically.

at the bemusement of the tourists. Everything in that square is wonky.

Then Florence. It is beautiful.
HOwever, I spend more of my time watching the imense amount of tourists that the actual spectacle.

Been reading too much Camus I think. If anyone is interested, then a book titled The Outsider by Albert Camus is a great read. Next, I am off to Siena to experience Tuscany, then to Rome, and finally Naples. Then flight home..... boo. I could happily carry on forever, except money is an issue, and I dont have a kind uncle. later..

Oh yeah, did I mention that when I was in Provence in France, I cycled up Mont Ventoux?

Ok. I am now in Viterbo, about 80km from Rome. Last night... The whole of yesterday was terrible. I cycled through Tuscany which was great, camped on a disused farm and ate grapes, and apples picked from the plant.





Then the next day I continued until I came to a mountain.

The mountain looked like MOrdor from TLOTR movies. I cycled up. then as soon as I got over, the rain began, and began. It began for 12 hours. I finally arrived in Viterbo at 5pm. soaked. I chilled under a motorway bridge with some Goomba hobos. I spent the night there with franco and his pals, sharing smokes, and food, and cheap wine. I had to drink from the bottle. I have probably got some illness now.
Next morning, I have a tyre puncture.

I am now in the motions of finding a cycle shop.

But, ask me if I would sooner be working the night shift at Tesco.....

Hello my dear friends.I write this email sat at the same desk from which I left. I am not as yet homeless. Hurrah! However, I wait with anticipation for the future.

I arrived back around 8pm last night. I flew into Livepool, and cycled all the way back, with a typical English welcome (i.e, rain! Lots of rain!). And no money. I stopped, ever once in a while to eat leftover Italian rossette bread, nuttella and banana sandwiches, which I might add, has kept me alive for the last 7 days. Didnt need any water, I just stuck out my tongue. Anyhow, The ride was much easier than from day 1, the distances seemed shorter, my legs were stronger. It astonished me to notice my tollerance & understanding of distance. 3500km probably does things to you like that.
Anyhow, I cycled from Liverpool, to Southport, to Leyland and Chorley. As I arrived in Blackburn, Everything seemed familiar, and weird. I was cycling on the same path which I set off from! But in the other direction! I recalled how in Blackburn, at a point called Eanam Wharf, where I forgot to start my bike computer, so technically trip actually began there right at that very point. It was at that very point, when I was observing, and thinking to myself, how cycle friendly Blackburn was with its pavements, and pathways. Then, the familliar sound of air hissing entered my senses. Puncture. Right at Eanam Wharf. How ironic. My journey began there, and ended there too? Nope my friends. I contemplated briefly phoning one of my friends to collect me, then I considered hopping the train. Then I accepted that I am going to return all by myself, in the pouring Lancashire rain, whether it kills me or not. As you can tell by this blog, It did not kill me. I rode the bike on the rim some 20km, which was very exciting and takes quite a bit of skill. I have destroyed my rear wheel. however, after getting hit by the dickhead in France, and having my wheel buckled, I figured it was time for a little payback. That alone felt good. when I returned, My friendly neighbours chatted in wide-eyed amazement at my feat. And kindly gave me cigarettes. Yes, people, I started to smoke again. I think it was the feeling of total freedom, that caused it. And probably that Aussie bird Helen.


So, what do I plan on doing now? I am going to write up my journey in greater detail. I am going to add some photgraphs (sadly my batteries ran out after Tuscany, So I am relying on the Internet to jog my memory). I also plan on reviewing my equipment. God I have alot to say about some of that stuff. And now, I must go find a job, as I have only a jar of Nuttella to sustain me.

A big thankyou to everyone I met on the way. Helen, Rob & his missus, The many cycle tourists, Ruth, the crazy Quebecian, The Wino kid in Provence: sorry for not waiting for you I got the itch to travel, The airline hostess with Ryanair, Dannielle I believe (thanks for the beer), The fucking French Police, That old couple I met in Roen and laughed about burning JOan d'arc, and the old English couple at Omaha beach. And many many more who I just cant recall right now. And finally, cheers Tatler, for the support.

Until my legs start to wander again.

Anyone fancy dieting, then I recomend the Daly diet. Get on your bike and cycle 100-150km every day for 6 weeks. And lose almost a stone in fat. Also, see the world in the process, which in my honest opinion, is a damn sight better than staring at your sorry sweaty self in the mirror, inside some hamster cage of a gymnasium. You get a DEEP tan my way too. Do IT!

Alright, Ihave been home now for less than 24 hours, and things are getting a little bit weird. Last night, for some reason, I couldn't/wouldn't, for whatever reason bring myself to sleep under my duvet. I had to sleep in my sleeping bag. I even contemplated sleeping in my tent in the garden. Weird? six weeks in my tent has done this to me.
I also ate with a spoon. This lunchtime, I cooked food in the kitchen with my camping pots & pans. Weird? Well, I have just returned from Lidl supermarket, where I had an intense attachment to all things Italian. Ciabatta rolls, Passatta, Artichokes, Olives, Funghi, grilled Aubergine, salami Milano, Panchetta, Proscuito Crudo, and Chianti wine. To name just a few of the items which I bought. I also, had a compulsion to buy, mars bar multipacks, bananas, and baked goods.

Well, this is me a few days into my journey, just cycled the Pen-Y-Pass in North Wales. 30 minutes of pain, but well worth it. I guess it was good preparation for the hills to come. I.e Mont Ventoux.