But it doesn't stop there: on the narrowest of single lanes, ladies with walkie-talkies ushered me through and relayed messages to other ladies further along to keep the road clear of oncoming traffic. A person could get used to such red-carpet treatment: I started to expect maidens cycling infront of me, brushing summer flies from my face...
Of course, the day ended with my old pal Devil's Dyke, which, coming from the North, splits itself into three consecutive leg-testing climbs. A bit of hard work to balance out all that idyllic stuff.
