Car Packed, time for some last minute training

Nervousness is bound to be creeping in.   It’s all very well committing yourself when it’s months away, but tomorrow morning at 8.30am the 650 miles cycle ride to Morzine starts in earnest for eight young people (well they’re young to me!) outside the Macmillan Cancer Support Charity HQ in London.

I rode my GoldWing down the motorway from Lancashire to Woking this morning to find Ben & Hilary’s House quiet and seemingly deserted, with the car I am to drive as the support vehicle outside, unlocked, one door open but no one about.  No answer to the doorbell either – have they done a runner?

Happily not and through the kitchen door round the back I could see that it was feeding time for the children and Hilary and her friend Nickie (wife of Wills, one of the riders) were exercising their motherly skills.  “Grandpa!” went up the cry – and my goodness doesn’t it make your heart leap to hear it when it does.

Lunch was abandoned as the children rushed out to see my (distinctly non-push) bike – and of course to demand to sit on it.  Mother took charge and establish a safety zone while I got the bike into their garage, where it will stay until I get back from France.  Then the two granddaughters could climb aboard – and then for some strange reason argue about who should take the back seat.  Boys would of course have argued for the front, where they could reach all the knobs and buttons.

Then it was inside to finish lunch, with the promise of the two Twix Biscuits from my packed lunch if they finished their rice, causing junior granddaughter Amelie to sound off in the hope of getting the chocolate anyway, which didn’t work, Mummy being a practised hand at psychological warfare of this sort.  Living so far away from our grandchildren means we don’t see them that often but that heightens the pleasure when we do.

Then Ben appeared, having spent the morning on some sort of token appearance at work, so we started trying to get Ben’s Vodaphone Dongle thing working on my little laptop, which is hopefully how these daily reports will get published.  It worked, eventually, with the help of a phone call to the appropriate geek.

There’s a lot to do today, so I’m fielding grandchildren and otherwise keeping out of the way on standby while Hilary and Ben  handle all the last minute things.  Hilary has bought the wherewithal for tomorrows lunch stop, so that all I’ll have to do is get the car to the lunch stop rendezvous and dish it out.  Once we’re in France I’ll be going forraging for supplies as part of my daily routine.  It was all so interesting and out of routine that Ethan, when he came home from school, opted out of his football training to help clean the car.

The car has been fitted with a very impressive four-bike rack at the back and it will also have a roof box, to cope with everyone’s luggage.  “I’m taking three sets of cycling gear, two T shirts, a pair of jeans and a pair of flip flops” said Ben, clearly intending to set the standard so it will all go in the car.  I’m doing my bit by bringing along my oldest underpants, which I will wear and then abandon ‘somewhere in France’ once they’ve done their duty.  I shall be sad to see them go really because the newer ones from Marks & Sparks have only printed labels.  How on earth can you work out which way round to put them on without a proper label tag?

I’ve met one or two of the riders before but only one or too.  They’ve struck me so far as fairly sane people but their cover is about to get blown.  They must be barking mad to take this challenge on.  I’ve got a fairly comprehensive First Aid Kit bit I wonder if I should be taking a straight jacket along too, just in case.

Donations have been pouring in, so thank you to those many people who have given.  No donation is too small and there’s no rule that says you can’t give a bit more if you find yourself enjoying read about what these young lunatics have let themselves in for during the next eight gruelling days.  You can visit their Virgin Money Giving page by clicking here.

Our first lunch stop en route to Dover for the ferry is sadi to be a pub; unfortunately I think Ben’s plan is for us to eat our sandwiches quickly in the car park and then ride on.

My next report will be posted tomorrow evening, hopefully from Calais, our first night stop.  I’ve got some blister plasters in the first aid kit and I suspect they might very well be needed.   I’m hoping to donate my first pair of underpants to the Burghers of Calais but it might depend if there are any policemen around.