It seems I’ve been constantly on the move over the last few weeks. The beginning of June saw my leading a tour of nine cyclists across Hadrian’s Wall. I wasn’t on a bicycle and had the dubious delight of getting used to driving a mini bus, with a trailer attached, down narrow country lanes. I was solo as the guide and the initial workload was overwhelming with considerable bike preparation and a busy Friday night in Whitley Bay.

This resort offered no parking and a tight deadline to meet and greet the guests as well as unload the bikes into the hotel. It all peaked at trying to find a bike shop in Carlisle on a busy Saturday lunch time with an hour and half available (as the lunch break) to sort the hydraulic brakes out on a bike to pacify a guest who, not unreasonably, expected his bike to stop when he applied the brakes. (This was his second bike after the original one had pedal problems.) Such was the condition of the bikes I was up against it from the start. The tour got better but bewilderingly I had to respond to my employer afterwards about a complaint about my treatment of a guest. If I’d been asked in advance ‘who has complained about you?’ I would never have identified this guest or the issues they reported. The events were known to me and distorted/exaggerated and gave no thought to how mean and unfair they were. I responded to my employer giving my understanding/explanations. With this interpretation and previous track record they were satisfied and the matter was closed. (In fact I scored 4.4/5 for ‘the guide’ on the tour overall with the guests who responded.)

From here Anna and I disappeared up to the far north west of Scotland to spend a week in a crofter’s cottage on the coast near Kinlochbervie. The last thing we expected was a heatwave! The weather up in the Highlands was fizzing and it was nearly too hot at night to sleep as the foot thick walls gave back the day’s heat overnight. The last time I was up here in the summer it was single figure centigrade and the rain was coming horizontally!

We’d brought bikes – mine a regular one and Anna’s electric. We had a great time together cycling up the NC 500 with the motorcycles and Belgian camper vans. The terrain was lumpy to say the least! From here we stopped overnight in Edinburgh with great friends, Peter and Jude, for some splendid hospitality before returning to Yorkshire.

Next I was en route to Oxfordshire to join a tour with 18 Americans on a ‘high end’ cycle tour around the Cotswolds. This time it was two guides with the mighty Mick who possesses considerable bike maintenance skills. We got off to a great start with the guests by presenting some home made cake by Anna at our first stop that they loved: they love the unique personal touches and one guest made a lovely video showing his appreciation for Anna.

I can’t pretend I’ve worked so hard for a week with so little sleep than around Bampton, Burford, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, Tetbury and then Bath. The rewards were enormous with such kind and generous folk who were unfailingly upbeat, interesting and kind. All this was heartening and restorative after my demoralising Hadrian’s Wall tour.

As I write we’re lodging in a large house in Carcassonne with both daughters and son in laws. Sophie is expecting in December and this has been exciting family news that we’re thrilled about. 

Initially, before the family flew out, we flew into Perpignan and drove down to Figueres in Spain, the home of Salvador Dali, His work and thoughts are all around the town and whilst I know little or nothing about his art his take work is often remarkable and contemporary so many decades after his death.

Picking up the car rented at Perpignan was a typically French experience. Three members of staff for Alamo were in the car park greeting customers or not. One was busy running around and the other two were at a dais looking at their mobiles and talking to each other. I was with about three other customers expecting something to happen for about 10 minutes as they ignored us. Eventually I approached to ask if they had a car for me? One of them sparked into action and said she’d take us to our car. It was a surprise.

Apparently this car is made by the Chinese company who own Volvo. Why give it the name of an upmarket handbag? 

In fact the naming of Chinese cars is something that frustrates me, not least, the appropriation of the ‘MG’ mark by a Chinese company who bought the brand about a decade ago. All over the world you’ll find these bland, look-a-like hatch backs selling off the back of this heritage British marque with simply no meaningful connection to the original cars. Anyway back to the holiday…

Carcassonne has seen us all flop although I have directed my touring bike up into the hills south of Carcassonne. It’s surprising that in a kilometre or two you leave the traffic busy urban streets to not seeing a car for over an hour as you meander up in the hilly countryside to over 400 metres altitude with nothing but the heavy din of the cicadas as a constant companion.

After the offspring depart we’re off to Béziers. Looking forward to it.