A strange dream. I was in Berwick upon Tweed and I recall remarking to myself that it was the first place where the surroundings begin to look more Scottish than English and then I was no longer there, but instead I entered some kind of shopping centre looking for somewhere to chill out, a coffee shop perhaps, but I never found one. Instead I was with a woman, a PR woman by all accounts, who was showing me a room. The room had its floor down from where we were standing and there were conveyor belts, two I think, coming up from the ground level of the room. The conveyor on the left had a sleeping back on it. We moved out of the room, or rather I did, leaving the woman there to lock up or something and as I left the room I realised I was in some kind of theatre but without any seats, perhaps it was a school hall with heavy curtains concealing the stage. For some reason I thought it would be funny to hide from the woman behind the drapes, which I did, realising that I was barefooted for some reason and that my right foot was exposed. I quickly pulled it back and awaited the arrival of the woman.
We ride our trusty bicycles most weekends. This blog charts our adventures and records our thoughts as we ride through the rural lanes of Surrey and Northern Kent – and there's some world travel thrown in too
