Rather a grey day from an early escape from misty, wacky-wickery Glastonbury. A stiff climb through the granite of Cheddar Gorge.
Miles along the spine of the Mendips - more or less deserted.
Whoosh down to the Chew Valley lakes - and then a leg-wobbling ascent of the feared Dundry Hill.
And Bristol - and sadly a tour of many of the great city's less attractive aspects.
Epiphany of the day: I stop a cyclist for directions. We chat. He gives directions clearly. And he insists upon giving me his map. How kind.
Perhaps I reminded him of his grandfather?
A windy, misty crossing of the Severn Bridge. And then Chepstow, the Wye - and up steeply into Gloucestershire.
Was intrigued to learn that JK Rowling was brought up near here.
Staying with kind friends - and teenage offspring.
Grey dispelled.
Fine figure of a man! CS
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