Those were the happiest days of my life

OK, a bit of an exaggeration, the title. But honestly. For those who remember the Cadbury's Smash adverts in the seventies, all you need to do is paraphrase it to something like:

"They climb out of their beds. They put on all their clothes. They get into their metal boxes. And then they drive around the countryside".

A day like today demands to be a cycling day. No matter that Skip and I are off to Cirencester on Monday for the Cotswold Spring Classic, 106 miles of fun, the Axbridge Cycling Group was on. As well as Danny Rose, King of the Hill, Boots, Skip, Wonderboy and me, we were joined by one of those strangest of creatures, yes a triathlete, or TriC, as Skip has named her and I have plagiarised.

It was also St. Georges Day. As I awoke to the sound of people burbling on Radio 5, I dimly heard a conversation about how no-one knows how to celebrate it in England. Presumably in Barcelona they do. The Catholic Church even debates whether he existed, and it was a close run thing between him and St Edmund (of Bury St Edmunds, and definitely a real person) as to who would get the English patron saint gig.

So to honour the day I wore my cross of St George/3 Lions Foska top, with matching red shorts. A throwback to the days of the Raid Pyrenean too. And decided to salute whenever I saw a St George Cross, much to the hilarity of one and all. Bunny once asked me if I was a fan of Billy Bragg, "Of course" I said, "I thought you probably would be" he said in his very mild, slightly right of the centre ground way. One of the reasons is that Billy (another West Ham supporter btw) knows how to celebrate all that is good, non-jingoistic and radical about being English. Lollards, Levellers, Tolpuddle martyrs, Chartists, Suffragettes, they were a long line of radical English groups, but they didn't seek to exclude or discriminate or persecute. So there.

So the ride. Yes leisurely in the sunshine for the most part. Over to Glastonbury for coffee and then back, nothing too strenuous and man it was hot when you stopped. There was just a moment when boys started to be boys, but Skip got us all back on the chain gang with one blow of her acerbic tongue. Good on her too.

And yes that is my leg, with near perfect chain ring tattoo. Skip is going to get a real one of these at the end of the summer. I'm not, but it must say something about the ACG that a lot of us seem to get these. I wonder what?

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/376133