Early Saturday morning and the cry went out of: 'To the Beach!'
It was a smooth ride out towards the coast, only disturbed by a bit of a domestic during the final run in.
It ended with a rider down and plenty of finger pointing.
I still hadn't forgiven Anna for giving me the Race Face as she breezed past me on the climb up towards Tenpenny Hill.
High tide greeted us at Walton, and so did an industrial size cup of tea at our favourite cliffside cafe.
It was lovely.
We played at being King Canute for half an hour or so as the Essex Riviera waters caught up on us.
Sanctuary was eventually found on a golden spot of sand where I settled for the afternoon.
No surprises that I fell asleep.
For FOUR hours.
I awoke with a sore bottom and a cycling shades tan line. I can live with the pro rider tan look, but the sore bottom was a real pain in the arse for the ride home.
Early evening and I nipped something in the bud.
It has grown into a BEAST over recent days. Yer man Titchmarsh tells me that a late summer and an early winter haircut is required.
I couldn’t wait that long.
Job’s a good ‘un.
And then - BOOZE and cricket.