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Just sitting here waiting for my wounds to dry.

An unusual but interesting day. I decided this morning to see how fit I was and pulled out my racing cycle to pedal the twelve miles to Maypole farm, to deliver a document to the engineer who is working on my aircraft. It’s having its annual and looks rather sad in a hundred different pieces all over one of the barns that serves as a hangar.

When I arrived, my friend Bob was about to take his aircraft banner-towing up to Birmingham, so still in my lycra, I volunteered as co-pilot, for what was quite possibly one of the slowest trips ever to Wellesbourne Mountford, two hours dragging a banner at 55 knots and just high enough to clear the power cables dotted across the countryside. Rather like driving a rather tall truck I thought but with a much better view.

At Wellesbourne, we dropped one banner and exchanged it for another, which we displayed around Solihull, before returning to land at Wellesbourne again, stow both banners and fly home.

I called my wife to tell her where I was. “You know I set out on my bike this morning? Well, I’m outside Stratford now” Her reaction was comic.

The weather between the Midlands and the Thames Estuary was working itself up for a storm with occasional flashes of lightning but flying in cloud occasionally, we had no trouble crossing over the top of Luton Airport and then to Stapleford, Southend and back to Maypole, a total of five hours flying.

I decided to cycle home along the sea wall past the Roman tower of Reculvers and was only a couple of miles from home when my razor thin racing tyres caught a gap in the concrete and somersaulted me off my bike. More accurately, with my shoes clipped into the pedals, the bike came with me and I slid along the concrete on my head doing 25 Mph. The lesson to anyone reading this is always wear a cycle helmet as they work rather well as I found out. Unfortunately, my knee, elbow and shoulder weren’t so well protected, which is why I’m sitting here waiting for the injuries to dry.

Of course, the one occasion when the first aid kit in kept in my motorcycle would come in useful and then I realise, that when my side panniers were ransacked a week ago, the only thing the ***** stole was, you guessed it, my first aid kit. So I’ll have to make do with toilet paper instead of plasters!


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