Another French City (Amiens), another hostel (bunk beds) another wet ride, another crappy WiFi service. England, take me back, it wasn't you, it was me. I have changed, I can be better!

Things learned today.

- the French pronounce WiFi, WeeFee.



That is all.

Very dull day, my knee was gut wrenchingly painful. (Is Mr. Miyagi still alive? If so, can Jim fix it for him to come place his hands on my leg... Second thoughts!) But at least that distracted from the 9 hours of relentless rain in my face.

I had a read back over my blogs just now. Whilst I don't mind saying, I'm a funny little bugger sometimes. My spelling has been horrific. I do apologise. I blame the delirium from a day in the saddle, combined with a ipad which is auto-correct happy plus a blog app which is sans-spellcheck. I can imaging Becky Kennedy has just been beside herself putting up with my grammatical catastrophes.

One last day and night in France tomorrow before returning to England! Hooray, Rule Britannia, Land of Hope, Glory, internal terrorism and Jeremy Kyle, oh how I have missed you!

I keep reading this stuff about the soldier that was murdered in Woolwich, horrific stuff. Cant imagine what his family must be going through. havebt seen anything but read that its pretty emotional.

I do have to say, it still makes me feel sick in my stomach when the Facebook mafia take control with all the "England is ours" stuff. The fact is, if we won the Euro Millions, chances are, we might move house. That could be local or in another city, county or even country. I have no problem with people making the most of their lives by emigrating somewhere better. The Brits have done it for years. My simple view is that if you then choose to abuse that right, you're gone. No questions, no exceptions. If you hate our Country, if you try and spread hate, don't let passport control search your arse on the way out.

Better news, Anglo-French relations have never been stronger. As I arrived tonight, the lady at the front desk said that she knew I was coming late so had prepared me some food. It was like she had read my mind. I've died and gone to heaven.

I'm off to get high on my meds, drink a (small) glass of red and sit in a coooooooold bath. Bon Soir

X

So, I've been through some scrapes and embarrassing moments in my time, none the less, whenever that question pops up "tell us about your most embarrassing moment" I always struggle for a moment. Not any more.

Please be warned, this post contains Lycra, toilets and some rather vivid imagery, so if you are planning to eat something in the next 30 mins, please come back later.

So, sitting comfortably? then I'll begin...

One of the things I have had to plan most on this trip, are toilet breaks. Thus far, I've managed to avoid squatting behind bushes to do the grizzly bits. Mostly I've been able to hold off altogether. Anyway, today, that urge came on, and I had another 4 or so hours before I get to Manchester, so I stop off at Starbucks in some strange town. I have myself a coffee and some lunch, then visit the loos. I sit for a little while and (forgive the imagery) update facebook, message people, tweet etc as I go about my business. Just as I was starting to think, right, lets wrap this up and get back out side, click, and darkness. The lights are on a sensor and my use of the loo as an office space obviously meant I had out stayed my welcome. So here I sit in complete darkness, waving my hands in the air, trying to catch the sensors attention. No good. (I now think, 'every crapper needs a clapper'.) delicately, I stand and unlock the door, shuffling forward, cycling shorts sitting around my ankles, waving furiously. Click, on comes the light, clunck, opens the door. Now I've never run over a deer, but I'd imagine, that was the look in both of our eyes, him shocked in a now open doorway, me, hands in the air, pants around ankles, everything I have on display, a good foot or so outside the cubicle. Luckily, he had the good sense to turn and leave, I had to go back, finish up and make the walk of shame through a fairly busy Starbucks.

I believe the term Fuck My Life, would be most appropriate.

In more uplifting news, I am in MANCHESTER!! And will be staying with Jude Ball, luckily for her, I won't need the toilet! Mexican for dinner, then an early start to get me home, 120 miles, pushing to have it knocked off in 10 hours or under!

Can't wait!

X

So on my final day in Paris, Becks posted that he would be signing merchandise in the H&M store on le Boulevard de Haussmann. Lets go!! So I rock up to the shop an hour early, nobody there at all. I double check the street, yep, must be here. So off for a coffee. A few thoughts running through my head, wow, nobody showed for Beckham, that's awkward. Well, at least I'll get to say hi. I could get the BHF T shirt signed. He will probably sponsor me. I mean, he'd set a couple of hours aside for this, maybe he will come for a coffee. I'm good fun, he will want to stay in touch. I wonder how old Cruz is, he could have a play date with Alex...

The bromance was blossoming.

So with 15 mins to spare, I wandered back to the store. Still nobody, no gates, no signs.

"Hmm, I wonder if there are 2 H&Ms on this street. I walk another hundred yards, turn the corner et Voila! Police have closed the street, gates to guard the entrance, huge security guards and at least 3000 people. Oh.

I managed to wrestle my way towards the front, mostly by picking up and throwing tiny Korean and Japanease tourists. A silver can pulls up and out steps Sir David. The man is a legend for even putting up with the most horrific noise I've ever heard. The sound of 3000 squealing men and women.

Handsome fella that Becks.
Shame we couldn't go for that coffee though!

Now, home time. Hitting the road, high on espresso and vicodin. "Do not operate heavy machinery" good job my bike is light!

Au Revoir Paris next stop Amiens
X

So ive cycled 600+ miles in two countries, no major dangers, i had been walking less than 45 seconds out of the hotel, went to cross a road, looked the wrong way (Brit abroad) and nearly hot hit by a car!! and when i say nearly got hit, i dont mean a car was there, stopped and the driver waved his fist in a half angry half 'oh Monsieur you little tinker' way. No, the car literally skidded around me, luckily the driver had the skills of Hamilton and managed to keep control. must remeber, look LEFT!

I can't tell you what an overwhelming day it's been today. 119 miles that felt like an absolute lifetime. But rather than collapsing on to my bed, I've managed to shower, change and get straight out into the city!! I'm so happy, I had a vision of seeing myself ride under the Arc de Triumph, although having seen the traffic, I was glad I ditched the bike. Not to proud to admit I had a major wobble yesterday. I'm not a homebod by ny stretch but I really missed being home. Being out of touch with everyone with no real knowledge of where I was headed was enough for my arse to nip a little. I couldn't feel more different today. I've had 2 Big Mac meals, not because I wanted a McDonalds, it's just they have the only decent wifi in the whole of Paris. Once I get through here, I'm back to the hostel, with as many cans of cheap French lager I can carry and I'm going to sit and unwind.

I wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who has sent a donation or a message to me. I can't tell you how much I needed that, especially yesterday. I will get round to replying individually when I get a moment tomorrow. I actually feel a bit emotional still just thinking about it (pussy) I think I must just be dehydrated!

So, what is Paris like I hear you ask. So far, wet! I've been before and it was lovely and felt quite compact, not today. Everything seems really spread out. The cycling was fun, easily the scariest thing I've ever done in my life. Such a massive adrenaline rush. Needless to say that I've learned a few French Swear words from the lovely taki drivers.

Whilst trying to find the place I'm staying, I asked LOTS of people. One Old French man who was clearly a bit worse for wear at 3.30 on a Tuesday afternoon insisted on calling me Tour de France and laughing histericaly. I think he followed me about three blocks. If it was quieter on the street, he would have had a swift right hook. Everyone else was really helpful, even with my pathetic attempt at GCSE French. I did however find out the answer I have (childishly) been asking forever. Ous Est La Piscine...? Turns out its on the same road as my hostel, which by the way is amazing! It's called hostel Woodstock and its fantastic. Full of weird Americans who are "discovering Europe" but the place is awesome. It has pictures of Hendrix and the Beatles everywhere and half a VW Beetle hung on the wall with a skeleton driving it. I know it sounds like I might die here, but compared to the rest of the places I've been staying in, this is f'ing amazing!

I did think I saw Amanda Seyfried earlier. It probably wasn't and I haven't stalked her twitter to see if she is Paris. If it was her, she missed a really good opportunity to meet me today!

I've seen the Eiffel Tower and the Champs Eleysee today, tomorrow I'm going to be a total tourist. I'm looking back at the photos I've taken so far, I've become a backpack wanker haha, if I saw me in the street, I would take the piss! Never mind. If I start wearing sandals and socks though, I've crossed the line.

Ok, I'm going to see some more sights then back home to bed!!

Bon nuit mon ami et Merci Beacoup

Xx

A day of many firsts today, my first day in France, my first fall off the bike, my first puncture. All in all, awful. The fall, courtesy of a French pothole the depth of the Grand Canyon was luckily timed with the day I had to wear most clothes, so apart from a very sore shoulder, I made it away (once if repaired the puncture) unscathed. Ego, notwithstanding. Quick check, the bike was fine but more importantly, so was the ipad. The horror in my face must have been amazing as I desperately tried not to land on my backpack!

If I could call this off now. I would. Without hesitation. It was always going to be a rough one when I looked out of my window and saw the docks at Folkestone being lashed with rain. After a quick panic, I stole all the bin liners and plastic from the spare pillows and bath mat (why do they wrap the bath mat up!?) to make sure my belongings were waterproof.

I then set off for the first 5 miles, up the most ridiculous of hills, to the pick up point for the Euro tunnel Cycle Service. Ironically, which was the hotel I was due to stay at last night, before thinking I'd got a bargain. I was then taken in the van to the tunnel. There was a 30 min delay, which was passed by making small talk with the van driver, which isn't exactly my favourite hobby.

It wasn't until we boarded the carriage that the tone really changed. John Woodward, who has two daughters, 40 and 42 who live in Maidstone, (see, I really did get it all!) decided to offload everything. I hadn't told him the reason for my jolly, but I couldn't believe the coincidence. John got divorced, or rather, Johns wife divorced him for another man, 25 years ago. She re married and John met someone new. Johns wife Marie-Anne was diagnosed with an illness called Lupus in 1976. She managed it well with medication but sadly passed away in 2009. Now, I have felt awkward many times in my life, but never more so, than when I was locked with a visibly upset inside a transit van, inside a tin can, inside a tunnel with no exit for another 35 minutes.

John then explained that he was due at the doctors this morning but had cancelled the appointment when I made my booking. John has had heart murmurs for most of his adult life, which progressively got worse. It was decided that He needed a new valve fitting, which was done via the open heart method, 2 years ago. Unfortunately, he suffered a heart attack 6 months ago and is now on a pretty hefty concoction of medication and beta blockers. I was a bit shy telling him about why I was on my bike on a wet Monday morning but he was really chuffed. The entire journey was spent having a laugh about how this guy, twice my age had so much in common. We talked about lupus, about hearts, about doctors, good and bad. Then he mentioned the races, he loves the horses. The conversation pretty much ended like this "oh, my girlfriend lives near a racecourse, in Thirsk" "lovely Thirsk, I've been many times" "oh, wow, yeah, it's only a small town but everyone seems to know it" "I tell you what, you know that white horse you have on the hill up there?" "Yeah" "we'll we have one of them in Folkestone, just near the tunnel, I was going to show you but you were too busy gassing".

By 9.20 I was a bloody emotional wreck. Not at all focused on what I needed to do today. By about 9.30 I was throwing a mega strop in a Calais car park.

Turn on my phone...

Searching...


Searching...


Seatching...

No Network Found!

No not word, no sat nav, no calls, no help.


I don't know who is to blame, Nokia or Virgin but when I find out, I am going to erupt on someone.


So I pedalled to the ibis hotel and stole some WiFi. I managed to get out an SOS email and a cry for help on Facebook. I also managed to get a map and plan a route on the inside pages of a book I'd brought with me (sorry for defacing it Tim). And so my route to Abbeville was slow, wet, painful and massively frustrating, following scribbled directions and road names on a piece of paper, now tucked in a waterproof phone case, held on to my handle bars with my phone holder. I must have looked a total knob.

Anyway, I digress. I hate it, I've had enough, moan moan, pity me and all that stuff. I have wifi in the room I'm in tonight so that's good, I can let people know I'm not dead. I'm due to get to Paris tomorrow, then have two days off. I don't think I will take them. I need to have a look but think I would prefer to get there, see the sights, sleep then head home. It will mean that I cock up my accommodation, but I can sort that.

At last a bit of rhythm and some speed and some sunshine. The longest day of the trip so far proved to be my best. Don't get me wrong, I never want to see a bike as long as I live, but I'm quite happy with the day as a whole. Think it was key to hit the road early, I set off 5.15am and was having my first pit stop by the time I even saw another car. And here it is, the end of England. Nothing but sea.

I feel as if its a bit of a cheat getting on the train tomorrow morning, but I don't fancy a rubber dinghy for me and the bike. I think I'll call the bike Paris. Not for sentimental reasons and fond memories of our road trip together, but because of Paris Hilton. She's a bit of a bike too. In fact after seeing the video a couple of years back, I'd take a go on my Paris any day. At least it doesn't talk back!!

I'm in an prestigious and regal hotel tonight, the room price is £135 but I've got it for £31 (and cancelled my Holiday inn express, thanks very much!!) they have even chucked in dinner and breakfast. I'm waiting for the catch. And there it is. On the outside, it looks like a hospital, on the inside, it's like a mortuary. I think the average age of the people in Folkestone is suitable for Stephen. In fact, there was a woman on the bench outside when I arrived, I swear I thought it was a statue. Much longer and she will fossilise.

I can only imagine the excitement on nanna nips face (not to mention other regions) right now!


Well, I think it could well be the excitement of setting foot on French soil for the first time, but I'm feeling good. Managed to make it out of the uk on nothing but my own power (if you ignore the glaringly obvious 35 minute, sub-sea train journey) that's really pissing me off. Maybe next year I could row it, that might make me feel a bit better about it.

Folkestone is decent though, well, the random old part. The rest is a shithole, but that's ok. I took a look in the restaurant I'm going for dinner. Very grande, I shall have to whip out a clean t shirt. Hope my knackered converse don't offend Betty and Edna.

I also have the worlds smallest bath in my room. I can't even get my legs in. I'll pay for this tomorrow. I've bath was chilly but not too useful!

I'm off to see if I can get a date for tonight from the bingo hall!

Laters x

So, get fit in the saddle, that's what I told anyone who would listen, including myself. Day two was much harder than the first. Yesterday, the most difficult thing was the boredom. Today it was the burning in the knees, a left (only the left) bollock which seems to be taking particular offence to the saddle and the speed at which the legs turned into blocks of cement. On the plus side, I'm here, I've made it and tomorrow is only 4 miles extra to what I did today...shit.

I'd like to say that this has taught me a valuable lesson about the piss poor attempt at training and preparation but in reality, it wouldn't be me and it certainly wouldn't be a challenge if I was completely ready for it. I'm sure whatever lays ahead next year will be faced in the same cock sure, Garbutt method.

I've just realised how crap my surname is. That would have sounded so much cooler if it was like "cock-sure, Bond method". Anyone else fearing that I've lost the plot or is it just me?

When I walked into the fine establishment I am calling home tonight, I asked the 'friendly' receptionist "where is good to eat?" ... "Not here" was the reply.

I appreciate his honesty though, I need food!!!! There's a Greek place nearby so at least Emma should be happy!


In other news, it took me about 14 miles yesterday to realise that I wasn't wearing my helmet. And that indeed, it was sat in the cupboard at home (not fantastic news for my head but I will sleep better knowing that in the event of an earthquake, my DVD collection - including classics such as 'Big Daddy' and 'Along came Polly' will be safe from harm). I fancy my chances in England but might have to visit an Evans cycles when I see one to pick up a spare in time for Paris. Oops.

Had some fantastic audio messages of support from Alex, ranging from "Good luck, we miss you" to "you stink like Guinea pig poo" the second, I'm afraid, I can't complain about at the moment!

Thanks for all the texts/tweets. I'm not used to the people from work being supportive, it's unnerving. Can I have some abuse please!?


Laters!x

Oh and PS... Alex, you look like the back end of a Donkey and you smell like cabbage soup, that is all! Xxx

In case you've ever wondered what cycling 100+ miles feels like. It's not pleasant. I met a few people who cycle long distances, people like Duncan at Bike Stop, Simon Robinson of Thirsk who kindly donated spare inner tubes and Ian Potter from Darlington who all said "you'll get hooked, it's weird, it's addictive".

You're all liars.

As I type this up, I'm sat in a make shift ice bath (actually just cold water) and I don't ever imagine wanting to get out and sit myself on that pointy little bit of plastic, some sadist decided could make a suitable seat!!

Anyone who knows me, is aware of my short attention span. 11 hours on a bike is boring. At one point I tried to watch tv on my phone. A couple of problems, firstly, I was riding a bike, secondly, I own a Nokia Lumia windows phone. The iplayer app was would make a saint lose his temper.

I played guess the colour of the next car to overtake (black was mostly a winner) and also, poo, blood or sweat. A fun game for all the family for every time I felt a trickle run down my leg. Largely, fingers crossed, clear fluids so far.

I'm in delightful Tuxford.

That's all that can be said about that.

I saw a film, I think with Kevin Spacey, about a hotel room that wouldn't let you leave. I'm a bit nervous that it was filmed here.

Lovely to see more donations rolling in. Can't tell you how much it gives my legs an extra bit of kick when the email pops up "Someone’s made a donation on your page" fantastic!!! Thank you, I honestly appreciate every pound.

Right, I'm off to dry off and sudocreme up. "Not too much" I was advised by Stephen McGee this morning, who clearly knows too much about that. I thought old Nanna Nip would favour the talcum powder anyway.

Big love x

Sometimes, things conspire against your best plans. Intending for a nice 7.30am start would give me plenty of daylight to complete the 12 hours I expect to ride today.

Packing the bag last night and the zip falls off in my hand...

Shop opens at 8.30, when I'll be able to buy a new bag, go home, re pack, set off.

In the meantime I will mostly be found in Costa, looking angry, planning my revenge on the makers of my bag!!

Probably means a set off time of 9.30/10am and an arrival, in darkness, to the delightful Tuxford, some 12 hours later.

If I double drop a herbalife 'lift off' maybe I can shave 45 minutes off somewhere...?

I have just had a look and the just giving site is now showing £628.50 plus a further £136.88 in Gift Aid. Before I've set foot on a pedal (which, unfortunately reflects my training regime) you lot have raised a fantastic £765.38 that's enough for the British Heart Foundation to buy 3 difibrilators which can be placed in and around the town.

Just writing that is a bit surreal and daunting, no backing out now Garbutt.

Massive thanks and feel free to send messages of support and abuse to keep me entertained along the way.

Aaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh

Special thank you goes to Emma Campbell-Critchley who has sorted me out with some fantastic Herbalife products to keep me in tip top condition along the way. Emma is a health and wellness coach based in Darlington so whether you need customised nutrition solutions for sports or weight management, be sure to check out what she does -www.nutrition4vitality.co.uk

I have a ton of products including Formula 1 shakes, protein bars and the magical Lift Off, dissolvable tablets, a great, HEALTHY alternative to Caffiene based energy drinks. I'll let you know how I find them as I go along!


Right, lets get this bag, I want to set off!!!

Anth x