a tour of Essex with forays over the border into Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, and Suffolk

biplanes over rolling Cambridgeshire fields, skylark song the aural equivalent to the shapes of the wind in the crops

outrunning thundering clouds along the northern edge of Essex

an ancient Ford Escort smelling of spliffs and knackered gaskets

rainbow fringed clouds and dark watercolour smudges across the endless horizon

the smell of a two-stroke triggers memories of riding a Vespa to the ferry at Harwich

actual white stilettos in Essex (Clacton-on-Sea, Saturday night)

losing my way and my temper in Wivenhoe

on the path along the river in the pitch black not sure who was more freaked out, me or those deer

thumping bass bins and snarling exhausts in Braintree (one in the morning)

really not sure i want to do this anymore

tea and pasta in a candlelit village hall surrounded by snoring randonneurs

i’ll just lie on the floor for five minutes

an hour later

the undersides of clouds glowing red then pink then orange as blue light creeps into the sky as the dawn chorus fades out

the Danbury mountain (copyright Alex Dowsett, i think)

staring at my feet on a petrol station forecourt

this road is starting to get tedious

audaxing is ridiculous. absolutely stupid.

i quite fancy a swim in that river

disc wheels and pointy helmets. a cheery “morning” from a hi-viz marshal

slow rolling over rolling countryside

a place name on a signpost signifies more than simply a place

the final stamp, a sausage sandwich, a pint of coke

421 kilometres