Holme Moss

A settling-in morning at the childminder's left me free to clean and tidy the house, do the washing, restock the freezer and install the stair gate that has been sat in the hall for a week.

I went out on my bike.

The Tour de France peleton will be heading over here next year. Somehow I don't think Wiggins, Froome or Contador will be huffing, puffing and wheezing at the top like I was.

Perhaps I need a lighter bike. Or some EPO. Or maybe I should just accept my level and live vicariously through my daughter instead. Olympic Road Race 2032?