Day 21 Part 2 - Journey's End

The train journey was pretty quick and comfortable back to Kings Cross then I had to cycle the few miles to Waterloo. It was glorious sunshine - which could have been sold for a fortune in Lewis. It was also the rush hour but Valerie had sent me a text with directions to get to Waterloo and I quite enjoyed weaving in and out of taxis and buses and particularly crossing Waterloo Bridge with a splendid view of Big Ben and the London Giant Bicycle wheel.

I thought I might be stuck at Waterloo because it was rush hour, Friday with everyone one wanting to take their bikes on the train and I had been told that bike places on this train could not be reserved. But as I was walking my bike down the platform there was an announcement to the effect that bikes could only be taken on this train if they had been reserved. I thought I would try it any way and asked a guard, "Where do I put me bike, mate?" (showing my grasp of the local dialect) He showed me the space in a carriage for bikes and I pushed it in, the train filled up with crowds of commuters and set off. There were a couple of suited city blokes waiting to get off just before Andover who had been in a wine bar all afternoon and were finding it difficult to stand up. (They should meet Micky from Lochmaben who could stand up after thirteen pints of beer and six wee dram's even when Jamie was playing the bagpipes in the next bar.)
I asked them what the next station was.
"..'s Andover, ol chap. Where you off to on yer bike then?"
I told them that I was on my way back etc...
"You cycled all the way to the Outer Hebrides from Fordingbridge, tha's bloody amaazingg. Hey Patrick? Don't you think, izz bloody amazing?"
"You're a ******* tosser!" Patrick said affectionately.
"It's easier than travelling by rail." I said.
"Look," said the one that wasn't Patrick. "I don't mean to be rude or-ranything, but you're, well ..."
"Old?" I said.
"No. Not exactly slim."
"I was fatter when I started." I said.
Patrick in the mean time seemed to grasp something, "The Outer Hebrides is ******* miles away. How far's the Outer Zebrodides?"
"******* miles." said the one who was not Patrick.
"About 850 miles." I said.
"Eight... eight.. Eight 'undred...that's ******* miles. Let me shake you're hand.
We shook hands. Then Patrick shook my hand as well.
The train stopped and the queue that had been standing waiting behind Patrick and his colleague listening, all said "Well done," as they climbed off.

At Salisbury I phoned Valerie to ask her to meet me on the other side of town and I cycled the couple of miles, through the Cathedral Close to meet her.

So my journey ended and it was lovely to be back home with my family.

I cycled 1610 km, I ate 62 chocolate bars, 16 pies of various descriptions, 10 bags of crisps, 3 bags of peanuts, 12 apples, 1 black pudding, on top of three large meals a day and lost half a stone in weight.

If you have followed this Blog - (a feat of endurance in itself) then thanks a lot. There were a couple of days when, for some reason, the blog had gaps in it, so if you want to see the corrected pages they are there now. The whole Blog can be seen by going to 'Archives' and clicking on 'September'.

Bye

Graham