No coups d'etat or rail disasters on my holiday. Indeed the vast majority of the trip wasn't disastrous at all. Cycling from Normandy down the entirety of western France to Pau, then across the Pyrenees into Aragon, east into Catalonia, up the French Riviera and all the way to Italy. Most enjoyable but not terribly eventful, barring a few interesting days where forward motion turned out to be quite the adventure in itself.
A month in, and on my first full day in Italy, my custom-built bike - and everything on it - ran off with someone in the 2 minutes I was in a shop buying water. Thousands of pounds invested into the trip of a lifetime, lost in an incautious moment.
The day afterwards, in Genoa, after dealing with the crushing embarrassment of walking around a city in cycling clothes and cleats senza bici by raiding H&M, and on the way to the library to try to arrange a meeting in the consulate that turned out not to exist, my phone (one of the two items I had on me when the bike was lifted) slipped out of my hand and the screen was irreparably smashed. That was a proper howling at the sky "WHYYY!!!!?" moment.
I won't say what happened the night before I flew back, because that would consistute a massive thread derailment even by my standards.
It is safe to say that it was a very glum Ed who flew out of Milano (still wearing cleats) and an actively miserable Ed on the airport coach from Edinburgh Airport to Glasgow under a stereotypically lowering Scottish sky. I've never recovered from that bus journey.
A month in, and on my first full day in Italy, my custom-built bike - and everything on it - ran off with someone in the 2 minutes I was in a shop buying water. Thousands of pounds invested into the trip of a lifetime, lost in an incautious moment.
The day afterwards, in Genoa, after dealing with the crushing embarrassment of walking around a city in cycling clothes and cleats senza bici by raiding H&M, and on the way to the library to try to arrange a meeting in the consulate that turned out not to exist, my phone (one of the two items I had on me when the bike was lifted) slipped out of my hand and the screen was irreparably smashed. That was a proper howling at the sky "WHYYY!!!!?" moment.
I won't say what happened the night before I flew back, because that would consistute a massive thread derailment even by my standards.
It is safe to say that it was a very glum Ed who flew out of Milano (still wearing cleats) and an actively miserable Ed on the airport coach from Edinburgh Airport to Glasgow under a stereotypically lowering Scottish sky. I've never recovered from that bus journey.