The show starts ok, with some good banter, good tunes and old clips from previous "shows", and pizza and chips of course, despite a few technical issues which come to a head in the second half. The server which sends our show out, and indeed the whole station, goes down. When we eventually get back on, I've lost my thing, I was in the groove before it went down, upon returning I found I wasn't and the last hour was hard, being tired doesn't help. We nip to the pub for a drink and a game of pool before retiring. Next morning and John loads the show online somewhere and we clear off for a spoons brekky. We bid our fairwells and I make it home in a stonking 2 hours and 40 mins. The rest of the day is spent relaxing and making sure the Tiger is all good to go in the morning.
I do feel my presenting has improved over last year, as I know what to expect and probably have a good face for radio. Maybe next years show will all come together to be the best.
So Lei does the school run and comes home. The bike is parked up and ready to go with luggage on and packed. We set off through Horndean, and through to east then west Meon. The traffic lights at the garage by Loomies cause frustration so I ride through the garage forecourt to avoid waiting through a 2nd cycle of traffic lights, sneaky but justified.
the usual suspects cause hold ups, y'know, lorries, the odd coach and the usual no frills car with a blanket on the parcel shelf and a hat they stole off the man from Del Monte, driven by a person who may or may not be no longer fit to hold a license, and have you ever noticed that when you need to get by someone/thing, the oncoming traffic is solid on the straight bits but get into blind bends etc where no biker worth their salt would think of overtaking and no fucker comes the other way, grrr.
We stop in stockbridge for a wee and a bite to eat and carry on. Along the way I see Stonehenge. Never seen it before, and I'm quite underwhelmed. Doesn't look much from the 303. Somewhere along the 361, there's a layby with a food van called yum yums, which saw a welcome sausage and egg roll and cup of tea, from a bike friendly vendor too. We continue on our way and Cheddar Gorge is found in no time. We make a stop halfway down and take pics.
We check in to the Arundel House b&b for our nights stay. I was envisaging the turning up of noses from the hotelier et al that comes with riding motorbikes, but we were made to feel very welcome straight away and even conversed with the owners about our little trip. We are both knackered so after an hours kip, we go out for dinner to the White Hart up in the gorge, It's a very local pub for local people but again we were made welcome and the food was nice and filling. There was a folk music gig starting at 9pm, we avoided that as it's not our cup of tea. If you're ever in Cheddar, I recommend the Arundel House b&b, it's friendly, welcoming, clean and run only by a new mother and her other half so deserve a good recommendation and well done for their sterling efforts.
Friday morning sees us leaving Cheddar and making our way to Exmoor. Entering Exmoor national park, we rode some crazy bumpy roads with only a few feet width and grass in the middle of the road, not to mention mud n shit. Lei asks if it's even a road. We encounter Bryants Hill and its lake before stopping at the Bridge Inn in Dulverton for lunch. Upon leaving I set the satnav to give us winding roads, What we got was an unexpected physical workout and two hours of traveling many miles but going fucking nowhere. We eventually find a way out on to the 303 and nip along to Ilminster where there is a Travelodge, only to find no room at the inn, thus rendering our plan of "fuck it lets just roll" slightly flawed. Subsequent phone calls to various travelodges etc prove fruitless. It's now 6pm and we have nowhere to sleep. One last call to Premier Inn central reveals there is one room left at their Honiton location, reserved as best we can as it's 1st come 1st served, I wind on the gas back along the 303 for 15 miles the wrong way and make it just in time to cough up for the room before someone else walks in the door, phew.
We have dinner there as neither of us are up to exploring at this time of day. I watch MotoGP on the telly and go to sleep.
During the night it pisses down, I know because I could hear it and went to have a look.
Saturday and it's wet, we scoff our unlimited buffet breakfast and get ready to leave after watching an old Gladiators episode. I've never actually watched it but I think Dianne Youdale aka Jet is my favourite. I get petrol while Lei is finishing up and we're good to go. It's stopped raining.....
Until we get to Crewkerne on the A30, it's drizzling, which was fine until we get halfway between Yeovil and Shaftsbury, at which point, it hammers down with proper rain, We hit a puddle at the same time a van passes in the other direction, my boots fill with water as does one leg of my leathers and the crotch of my cacks, yuk. By the time we reach Salisbury, I'm unable to judge the road satisfactorily as there is now water on the inside of my visor, and more on the right, so I'm riding mostly with my left eye. Concentration levels at maximum. Thank god for 2 decades of riding experience.
A36 then M27 to get home. Everything is wet except what is in the Givi top box. We eat chip shop for tea and watch 3 episodes of the walking dead which we're just getting into.
It was a great little adventure and the bike was truly faultless in all that we put it through, even if it is bloody heavy.
Luckily I have next week off too, gonna need the time off to get over the trip.
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