|Date||Friday 20th July 2012|
|Weather||Dry, warm, very little wind|
Which I always thought was a bit of a harsh nomenclature for Paul Rodgers and his mates based on the evidence from getting sneaked backstage thanks to my mate Paul whose dad worked at the Colsten Hall but then I was a mere whippersnapper in 1974 but perhaps it had something to do with those young women who turned up just as I was leaving to get last train back to Bath, if only British Rail could have found the budget for one last trip out of Bristol after midnight
But having left the harbour and wandered around the town and down onto the beach, everywhere full of shiny happy people I mused whether it was all because it was first night of school holiday, the warmth of the evening sun or something about the place but whatever it was full of smiles
Then I came across bad company – can’t remember their names, let’s call them Daves cos there seem to be plenty of them up here. Well Daves were well into it by the time I snooked in for the second half of Team GB v Brazil playing just up the road I was told, daft bats I why not wander up and watch it then which they found drunkenly hilarious, simple minds eh?
Well the tour de france traditionally has a time trial on the penultimate stage to sort out the elite powerhouses in the sprint endurance and for this tour de farce this seemed a timely coincidence to match cos these boys were waging each other with a jagermeister followed by a theakston’s old peculiar. Just had to be done. Sorry to say I’m no Chris Froome in the drinking department and came a sad 5th out of six but at least I beat one Dave
It was at that point blooky heck, they start friggin karaoke, yet again, now what is it with the people up here, I thought it was supposed to be all skittles n shove happeny. Anyway I’d had enough public humiliation so I skiddalled and just as well cos after that they and the walking (just) female flesh in same pub (the wellington, give it a miss Marcial unless …. ) were hellbent on staggering the 10 metres out and into the club called Raw, no prizes for guessing why it’s called that
Nope I was a good boy and stumbled back towards the YHA but good intention is one thing. Sure enough I was seduced by the suggestion of one for the road, well all 199 historic, pilgrim steps uphill actually which looked more like 1099 at this time
Well two black dogs and a great chat with a chef whose name I can’t remember, probably Dave, he looked like one and who promised me a free breakfast but blast the black dog cos I can’t remember where
So now as cheryl crow sang every day is a winding road but I seriously suspect it won’t take me quite so close as I’d planned but them black dogs were mighty fine at the time
Last leg now and I really think Vaseline have missed a trick in not sponsoring Wiggins cos I’ve got through tons of the stuff, I know too much, I’ll get on me bike.