August 2nd - A spot of spring cleaning

05/08/2007 by Brigid.

With all the talk of heavy rain and flooding in the UK, JR and I were beginning to get twitchy about the likely state of the house in London. It has not yet been let and, with estate agents and prospective tenants trooping in and out, we feared the worst. There were probably leaves and dirt all over the carpet, and the amount of junk mail that could have accumulated over 4 weeks didn’t bear thinking about. There was only one thing for it. One of us would have to go back and clean. Guess which one.

We planned an overnight trip: outbound on a QueezyJet flight from Toulouse to Gatwick, and back by bike. Returning by bike would tiring, riding around 730 miles solo but, with current baggage restrictions, it would give me the opportunity to do some shopping and collect some odds and ends from the house.

Pathetic flyer, me. As we left the ground, I said a little prayer to Our Lady to please return me safely to John. Mercifully, the flight was eventless. I caught the train from Gatwick to Clapham Junction and connected with another to leave me within easy walking distance. The only luggage I had with me was my handbag containing, amongst other things, two changes of undies, a toothbrush, and a large reusable carrier bag. It was bright and sunny when I got off the train around 2pm, so I decided to do the shopping and stop in to see the estate agent en route to the house. About two hours later, I staggered up to our front door with 3 heavy carrier bags and my handbag.

Expecting to find my tyres and battery flat, the first thing I did was to check both bikes. However, someone up there smiled on me. Both were fine. So I deadheaded and watered the window boxes, and pruned and weeded the back garden. I spent the rest of the day alternately cleaning the house and ticking things off my long list of “things to bring back” as I came across them. By the time I was due to meet my aunt for dinner, the whole dining table and most of the living room floor was covered in stuff to be loaded onto the bike for the return trip. There was a lot of stuff!

The following morning I had aimed to leave the house at 6am to catch the 7.55am ferry from Dover. Somewhat predictably, it took rather longer than I had allowed for to pack the bike. By 6.30am I was on the road. Amongst the luggage I had:

Automatic double tray cat feeder
2 flee collars
Curry powder
Lime pickle
Spicy mango chutney
Creamed coconut
Cheddar cheese
Bath Oliver biscuits
2 x 5lb packs of bacon
A Thermos coolbag
5 months’ worth of Omaprozole and other prescription drugs accidentally left behind
2 large bottles of Glucosamine Sulphate
1 even larger bottle of multi-vitamins
John’s motorcycle clothing, boots and helmet
Complete set of French text books, 6 associated video tapes and 3 CDs
3 large Foolscap suspension files from our desk
Miscellaneous post that the Post Office had failed to redirect
Letter opener
Stapler
Magnifying glass
4 Irish Coffee glasses
Motorcycle tools
Biscuit Tin
… and a bottle of French mustard!

I dreaded being asked to open my panniers by the security staff at Dover.

In the event, I caught the 9.25am ferry. I was a bit dispondent when I rang John from Dover, as I had vaguely hoped to get back to Montréjeau the same day. With the time difference, I would not arrive in Calais until nearly midday, so I would have to stop overnight.

It was 5pm by the time I got to Orléans. The ride was going well. The weather was warm but not hot, and I was comfortable in my summer gear. The cloud cover even protected my eyes from eye-strain - something I often suffer from when driving the same route in the car. It was still unrealistic to hope that I would complete the journey in the day, but I was not in the least tired. John said he would be going out for the evening, so I said I would ring him on his mobile from Limoges.

As it happened, I had to stop for fuel before Limoges, so had a practically full tank that took me through to Cahors. It was now 9pm. I had encountered a few sprinkles of refreshing rain around Châteauroux, but just as I was expecting the weather to cool down, the sun came out. I was still wide awake and enjoying all the sights and smells of the French countryside. I rang John from the service station at about 9.30pm. I was about two and a half hours from home.

I took a long break, had a steak for dinner, shut my eyes for 10 or 15 minutes, and then had a coffee to bring me round. At 10.15pm I rang John again to say that I would be home tonight. I got in at 12.30am, a little saddle-sore but still awake and alert. John and I shared a bottle of wine.

It was meant to be. Yesterday’s prayer on the aeroplane had been answered. I am not superhuman and, under normal circumstances, would have been dangerously fatigued by Cahors. I fully intended to stop around Limoges - particularly in view of my late arrival in Calais.

Riding 730 miles solo in a day is madness. I wouldn’t choose to do it again, and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it. There were times, when I got off the bike to refuel, that I felt as if I had been wired up to some sort of giant Slendertone machine all day. But, for some strange reason, today all the conditions were in my favour: the weather, my bike, the roads, the traffic, my clothing, my state of mind … Thank you God. It was a great ride!

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