After a night rocking to some cheesy Euro pop on the first class (perhaps not) ferry trip from Portsmouth to Caen, the boat that rocked (not musically but at least physically)...
A friendly steward (not THAT friendly boys) was asked:
“what time do we arrive?”
“6:30 sir”
“Is that 6:30 in English money or in Euros?”
“That will be continental time sir”
“That’s 5:30 in real money then?”
“That’s the joy of travel sir”.
We had less sleep than a working girl making a grand a night.
Dawn broke and we disembarked on a bright a fresh morning. Remembering how our grandfathers, and in some cases our fathers, had engaged the enemy some sixty years ago, we cycled serenely inland and headed passed Pegasus bridge where some veterans mistakenly identified Eric as the enemy and shot out his tyre. 1 minute and 27 seconds later we were ready. A new record for changing a tyre and a challenge to the rest of us, not that we expect any blow-outs from here.
With Nigel leading the way, blown along by the carbo fuel he had insisted on purchasing before we left, we all faced a strong wind but battled through 85 miles of undulating road to Alencon.
We anticipated that this would be the worst day weather wise, little did we know.....
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