hangover cure

The weapons grade hangover I woke up with this morning wasn't going to go away unless radical action was taken so I headed up to Peaselake for some mountain biking fun. I met up with some blokes I've ridden with many times in the Walking Bottom car park for some gentle chat and piss-taking before we set off. My tales from Friday night were tame in comparison to the events that unfolded elsewhere; one of the others had 5 stitches holding his forehead together.

As we set off, having decided not to take waterproofs, rain started to fall. Sorry, it didn't rain, a light mousse of mist descended. I guess you had to be there ......

I don't ride Pitch/Leith/Holmbury very often, unlike the others who get to play there far more frequently, so I was content to sit at the back of the group and be guided around the sweet singletrack trails in the gorgeous woods that cover all three hills. That was, and remains, my excuse. That and the hangover.

As we reached the Judge's Seat the sun burst through the clouds and, while we stood there discussing which line to take, we looked like gods. Truthfully they looked like gods (as you can see from the photo) and I looked a little dazed and confused. From there we swooped and dropped and climbed and fell and stopped and glided around a variety of well known named paths and some unknown (to us) tracks that we found on the way. A couple of hours later we reached the tea rooms where a well earned mug of tea and chunk of cake was gratefully consumed.

The hangover is gone!