day 3, leg 2: from broken faces to broken bikes, and through a thunderstorm to Gisors.

I'd promised the Doc that I wouldn't cycle any more that day. Whilst I wasn't planning on following his advice to the letter, we did have a stop by a lake for frozen peas.

Peas melted, head cold, we started off. We we only going a short distance: 40-50k, and we would take it slow. But first Stuart wanted to buy a warm jumper (you know, just in case we were sleeping rough again that night) and Dan wanted an Orangina. And someone else wanted to pick up something or other else that we didn't need. So they cycled off to their various places, but feeling a bit wobbly I found a corner by an empty town house and hid in the shade. Dan promised me they wouldn't be long, and that I should wait just there.

20 minutes later, I was still feeling wobbly. 45 minutes later, wobblier still. Then Stuart came round the corner - I was meant to go and find them after all. They were all in a local bike shop having a debate with the owner.  Peter's bike the (very expensive) back de-railer had broken: my French skills were required.

In I strode to the bike shop, blood still in my hair and in the corners of my face: "I understand there is a problem with the bike," I announced. There was - it was going to cost 150 Euro and take 3 hours to fix.

We decided that the best thing was for the slower ones - me, Dan and Oliver to head off to the next town. Matyas wouldn't have normally sat in the slower group, but by this point he'd stripped me of my 'Packhorse Peters' title and was carrying both of my panniers on his single speed bike (the third time that day I'd come to be so very grateful for others' kindness).

Off we set, leaving Peter and Stuart to drink beer while the bike was sorted. Up and down some hefty hills, I felt more wobbly. Then the wind came, and then the lightning. We kept pushing on, all the while I was scanning every barn we passed to see if we could have a small stop and shelter from the storm. An over-reaction, perhaps. But you have to remember I was still very wobbly.

Sweaty and covered in flies, the storm passed as we closed in on our stop for the day, Gisors. Then came puncture number 2 of the holiday.  At that point Matyas (my bag-carrier) then became my puncture-fixer too. I started to worry that I'd became a burden.

We wheeled into Gisors, and after a barter with a grumpy hotelier found a palace to stay in for the night. We were also safe in the knowledge that Stuart and Peter had set off with de-railers in place.

Peter and Stuart arrived, and dinner came: frogs legs and the company of two hyper-active children from French-Canada.


The boys ate the whole cheese board. It was wonderful. Then we slept.