Good morning, just pottering around the kitchen.

I've been home for a few days.

I've had a slice of toast and marmite, and a cup of tea.

I'm just going to brew another one, I think, before I get going.

A brief communication with David and Pete.

Pete is still at the Arctic Race of Norway

by the looks of it getting dumped on with rain.

It's pretty grey and cold up there.

The race that I've covered before actually, incredibly beautiful race.

But he's busy D-essing doing his Astana

thing and David well David is ensconced in the warm bosom of his young family

doing family things which normally involve getting in a car and driving to some amazing

location where they do extreme amounts of sport in the family tradition.

And it's a Sunday and they're sort of semi-sacred.

But I got home a few days ago, as I say, from an extended break after the tour in France,

remaining in France now for over five weeks.

I'm very conscious of the fact that we haven't potted since Paris. So I thought I'd do revert to the occasional format of

Never Strait Far where I just babble onto myself largely. It's a possibility that

during the course of this morning this afternoon as I go about my podcasting, I might get a voice note from Norway or indeed

your owner updating me on what's going on in the lives of my two co-hosts. It's possible that they'll forget as well.

And there we are. And there we are. There is plenty to catch up on. There's lots to reflect on. The sun is out. It's going to be a scorching day in London. I'm going to have this cup of tea and then I'm going to get on my bike and go for a little trundle around and we'll see what we on earth and how many park benches I can sit on and attract the attention. Perhaps unwanted attention, but understandable, attention of onlookers

as they see a middle-aged man talking to himself and staring into the middle distance.

...