Perfect

Woken by a horny fat pigeon on the bedroom window ledge at 6.30am.

One espresso later on the bike at 7am.

43 miles and home in time to see Eve's match kick off. Coffee brought by Hope and a chat with another blipper who's daughter was playing for the opposing side.

Back home and a quick wander over the bridge with Mrs Smith and Joe for a pre-lunch range finder (mine was the small one as I'm an athlete) and then back for roast chicken, yorkshire puds and all the trimmings.

Then it was an afternoon of water fights in the garden. In pants.

Perfect.