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  • 75 miles of Essexiness with Bigpaintbrush and hms this morning. We felt pretty smug sitting outside the High Beech tea hut to be the only cyclists braving the snow and stuffing themselves with cake. I was roundly mocked for my second expensive winter glove fail - £75 down and still suffering from numb fingers. Fortunately, hms lent me his Ski-Dubai uber-gloves so I could regain enough sensation to change gears (the horror...) and brake.

    The roads were mostly fine, but there was an occasional sheet of ice, so we were fairly cautious, although hms's monster tyres gave off an air of invincibility in any event. The sun almost came out for a brief interlude, and I got a very subtle, but nonetheless palpable, sense of the season starting the shift into spring - bring it.

    Excellent company, as always, who were lucky enough to be regaled with scintillating tales of fishing derring-do from my misspent youth, and who in-no-way took the piss when I spread my arms out wide to earnestly describe the enormity of a salmon I'd once caught. The only thing missing was the company of Wrongcog, who was doing something called "moving house", which apparently interferes with a persons ability to go bike riding. Missed your shapely legs and dewy beard mister!

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