Day 7 - Gloucester to Kidderminster. 55 miles, hilly bits 2100 ft. 1 x Roadkill (something grey)

We three are five. The chasers have caught us, the two teams merged and Alan is now well enough to be turfed from the crush of the support vehicle and told on your bike.

Thought my packing was ruthless at the start but now reduced even further. No knickers or thick socks, cleanser and cotton wool banished, trainers swapped for gross roll flat pumps, even chucked my glasses case. Puppet Pig agreed to pose to give a sense of scale so you can see how tiny it is.

Feeling smug, I checked what luxuries the others have kept. They all insisted, nothing, but when did you last pack any of the following?

1. Camel rein

2. Golf ball (NB cycling not golfing)

3. Latex gloves

4. Waistcoat (again, cycling…)

Swear on our spare inner tubes those are all true.

Today’s lessons:

1. Porsche drivers are still wankers

2. Replying more road tax than you does not diffuse

3. Industrial estates make great cut throughs

4. Canal paths are even better

Thank you and goodbye Gloucestershire.

Goodnight.