Journal

BA Flight 036 arrived slightly ahead of schedule at Heathrow Terminal 5, around 11.20am. It felt strange to be in this ultra-modern airport.

This was a strange day, because it didn't really have a beginning it just carried on from the previous day, because I hadn't slept the night before.

The plan was to spend the time updating the website, but there was a power cut which lasted for around 8 hours. There was nothing anyone could do. The substation at the local Polytechnic had blown up.

Brother James had not been in his home country, England, since the early 1970s and he'd not had a plate of chips since. I'd not had any chips myself for two an a half months and I was feeling it. But 40 years was a bit much! The poor man needed sorting out. Something had to be done.

Brother James had disappeared to Bodi, a couple of days before, as he tends to spend three or four days there each week, and I'd been prevented from going to see him there as, apparently, Brother James thought I would be 'taking too much of a risk' if I went there by motorcycle. This was a bit rich coming from a man who, at 85, is still riding on a two-wheeler around RTU.

brief update

Brief update.

Paul will change his mode of transport today. Weakness from his illness, time, distance and the Indian heat are against him. He may get the bus to Dindigul today. He's found two internet cafes, the first had server problems and the second had no electricity but hopefully he'll eventually get a connection.

I didn't sleep well at the Hotel Sobri Halaszcsarda because I kept waking up with the pain in my right leg. It was becoming obvious that I needed to do something about it, but I still had a long way to go.

Today I had better weather, and some wonderful surprises.

The journey to Vienna should have been a comfortable 75Km ride, but in fact it was close to 110Km. A nightmare day. At one point it felt as if we were riding through a time machine.

At the start of our last day with Helmut, the sun rose over the Danube. It looked as if it would be a fine day.

Even though our paths are sometimes completely blocked our destinations remain the same. Ten tons of rubble wouldn't stop us heading in the right direction.

It was Easter Sunday, I was about a thousand miles from home, but I was going to celebrate Easter. I also made some new friends.

Straubing to Passau

It was Palm Sunday.

Rihard told me Frankfurt was full of Euros and Dollars, but he didn't have any.

After updating website for 6 hours the night before and forgetting to have an evening meal, I didn't feel wonderful, and things didn't get any better.

Until I saw this...

The campsite at St Goar has the potential to be excellent, and the toilet and shower facilities are outstanding

But the facilities for washing clothes are inadequate.

Pollarded trees line the banks of the Rhine, at least where it passes through larger towns

It was good to know that the British didn't have a monopoly on tasteless art.

Cycling to the Rhine should have been a simple affair from Bochum, but it proved to be a little more difficult than expected.

The main aim of the day was to purchase a waterproof tent so that during the weeks ahead I'd have more chance of sleeping during the night.

The worst night was followed by best day so far.

The route from Wijk Bij Duurstede to Aerdt took me passed Arnhem, and the famous bridge.

It had rained during the night, and the tent had leaked. It rained as I got up, got dressed and packed. It rained as I packed up the wet tent. I made a shelter under the basha and made hot milk and cereal.

No cycling today.

I saw a sign for 'Linton' so I called in to remember my Uncle Vin and Aunty Audrey who lived in Linton North Yorthshire

After saying goodbye to Kathryn Hopkins, who welcomed me to the Kettering Park Hotel the night before, I set off for Cambridge.

It was Mothering Sunday. I knew my children would be with their mother today and looking after her in a special way and Joe was preparing a roast dinner. I was thinking about my own mother too.

It was a very cold night and I didn't sleep well, especially after hearing voices immediately outside my tent at around 4.00am. But I knew the bike and wheels had been carefully locked to a big tree trunk and I eventually dropped off again - but not for long - I was up at dawn.

The first day involved leaving home, leaving friends, leaving Manchester, dealing with publicity and setting off.