Cowes and Winchester, Sunday 12 May 2013

“I got stars in my eyes
I told thousands of lies
When arrested at Cowes robbing yachts”

Tonight Matthew I’m going to be with Jesus

“Let’s head Winchester way

She said ‘Been Yesterday'”

27 Yards of Dental Floss

After breakfast, served by a man who looks like he’s just completed a five-year stretch at Parkhurst, we collectively try to fix David’s puncture.   Our bicycle maintenance skills haven’t improved much since we started this caper, and the simple process of replacing an inner tube takes us well over an hour. This means we’re going to miss our ferry and have to wait two hours for the next one, putting paid to any chance of us extending the tour to include the HMHB destinations of Aldershot and Farnborough.

With no reason to rush, we  pop over to David Icke’s house, which is just round the corner from the B and B.   We can’t see anyone around, and ascertain what Google already knew – that he’s not home.

Resisting the urge to shove a lizard through his letterbox, we set off on the eight-mile time trial to Cowes, the second biscuit destination of the weekend.  Here we take the requisite photos (apparently we don’t have to rob any yachts) and meet some cyclists who are actually doing something useful: they’re on a sponsored ride round the island for Hoveraid.

Instead of sticking around to chat with them, or exploring East Cowes further, we try to find a pub to watch the Championship play-off semi-final.  This is harder than expected, though we eventually end up in the Prince Charles where the staff and regulars are very tolerant of the lycra-clad dickheads who want to turn the TV over from the Formula One.

Having waved goodbye to the Isle of Wight Supremacy from the ferry, we land in Southampton, which, like Portsmouth, is a great big dump.  Through a combination of Google Maps and Ordnance Survey, we identify the road to Winchester and push onwards.  Just south of our destination, we pass through Compton (interestingly it’s the second one we’ve cycled straight outta this weekend – neither of them seem that bad and we wonder what Ice Cube and his friends were so angry about.).

Narrowly avoiding a detour on to the M3, we eventually arrive in Winchester.  Rather than wondering at the historic cathedral, or the legendary Arthurian table, we again search out a pub with Sky Sports, and the weekend’s exertions end with Subway sandwiches at the Crown and Anchor.