We have returned from a fortnight in France, riding through sleepy green lanes and over far, hay-baled fields. We gorged on buttery pastries, and creamy brie, daily baguettes and refreshing afternoon beers.
We stopped in plenty of towns, ordering grand cafes and hunting out English newspapers. We weren’t always able to get our coffee early, making the the first of the daily kilometres pretty tough. But we were spurred on by varied roads, several ferries, and persistently cheerful cries of hello from the many fellow riders about.
We cycled 500k, poring over new sections of maps, and seeking out campsites with our rudimentary French. Our bikes got along famously as ever, valiantly carrying us over dusty tracks and through rainy winds.
We got along pretty famously too.