In the footsteps of centurions

Blogs are like buses....none for ages, then three come along together.

Such is life. I took a couple of days off last week to cycle to Nottingham and back. A sort of epreuve, to convince myself that the proposed 100-mile days of LE-JOG were more than a pipe dream.

Thursday morning at 7.30 was cool, which was fine, as I made my way through Leamington, up the Rugby Road to Princethorpe. The school there always seems more Hogwarts then Hogwarts itself. See what I mean?

I made good progress, resisting the temptation to fanny about as I'd arranged to go to Trent Bridge in the afternoon with my brother.

On the hour I crossed the A45, then the M6, and at two hours I crossed the A5 at High Cross and ventured into deepest Leicestershire. Making my way through enchanting countryside, I was pleased that cycling takes you to places you'd never visit otherwise. I mean, what images does 'Leicestershire' conjure up? Jonathan Agnew, Grace Road, pork pies? Really, it's not as bad as you might imagine. I await the call from the local tourist board...

It couldn't last, and picking up the Fosse again I was soon battling with aggregate trucks. In a bid to avoid Leicester - and who can blame me? - I got lost, and, foolishly taking a 'cycleway', I found myself in the Sainsbury's car park at Fosse Park Retail Hell. Not a pleasant place to be, even if you intended to visit.

Made my way round the Leicester ring-road - not likely to feature in a Lonely Planet guide book anytime soon, to be honest. Lots of England flags in evidence - some people don't do shame...

Back to the refuge of the countryside - Anstey, Quorn, Barrow-on-Soar and up the A60 to Ruddington. 75 miles in five hours, 15 mph, not a bad effort. And I felt I could have done another couple of hours in the saddle. But Trent Bridge beckoned....