Me and Deb went to a black-tie dinner on Saturday. The entertainment included a George Michael tribute act and a “Magic of Motown” vocal group. I’m no George Michael fan but this guy was pretty good. In fact, he was a dead ringer for everyone’s favourite stubbly Greek cottager and sounded exactly like the real thing.

The Motown boys however were utter shite. They were about 90-odd years old and their ropey act consisted of the systematic murdering of well-known Motown numbers. The worst bit was the harmonies. We’re talking “somebody please fill my ears with concrete” bad. Not only were they complete toilet but they also overstayed their welcome BY ABOUT 2 HOURS.

The food was great though.

Simon came over on Sunday morning with some fresh eggs, a bottle of homemade wine and his bike. We did some local stuff and had a good ride, despite the bad weather. Despite all the years I’ve known Simon he’s never ridden “my” trails before, he lives up in the hills anyway so why would he ride round here? In fairness though, the trails around here are better than most people expect – just ask the majority of people who raced at HTN.

Wine – lovely. Eggs – eggy. How do the eggs that have been laid in someone’s back garden taste better than those that have come out of a big factory farm/barn? My head says they shouldn’t taste any different but I’m sure that they do. They certainly looked yellower.