The hardest part of the day truly is leaving the warmth of sleeping bag and relinquishing the tender touch of adjacent Bike Europe team mate at six in the morning; in comparison the seventy odd miles that follow (or in this case over eighty) are a walk in the park, punctuated by regular ? kevinism* - 'Jimmy Widdle,' breaks and not so regular sampling sessions of French cuisine ? not entirely sure if I have the right day here but bacon filled croissants are superb.

By ten past seven we were in the saddle and completing the first mile of the day, by the fifth mile we'd received about the tenth seemingly encouraging blast of the horn from passing motorists and by the tenth mile an orange striped motorway maintenance vehicle had pulled up next to Daniel and 'advised,' we take the next exit; it appeared that we weren't allowed on the N25, and we guessed all dual carriageways; it's bewildering that a country that managed to produce Thierry Henry failed to produce simple circular signs with a red lining and a bicycle in the middle.

After overcoming our bereavement of a significant drop in average speed as a consequence of being forced to meander through the dour, grey streets of Amiens (I'm sure its lovely in the sunshine) we eventually found ourselves cruising down a much more preferable D road at about 25mph reducing passers by to a mere blur. I'm forced to correct 'passers by' to 'tourists' as it is now confirmed that there are no locals in France in August. Quite content to caravan it to the coast and abandon their home towns to disarray, they leave behind little more than a ghost town; talking it strictly interdit and in absolutely no circumstances should shops open for business. Hence we were waited for by John at the next place of food selling, the 'E'leclerc' in Montdidier where he purchased supplies and we ate flapjacks.

Our plan to finish the day in Compiegne was the subject of merciless ridicule courtesy of our ludicrously fast paced riding which had carried us the fifty miles by ten o'clock. It was way too early and we couldn't see a campsite nearby anyway. It was also raining and whilst we were wet we thought we might as well ride.

We continued a further twenty miles to Villers Cotterêts where we were to pay a visit to the local Tourist Office and suss out a campsite for the night. Inevitably the receptionist had her face full of French baguette and wasn't opening till thirty minutes past the hour. It being twenty-two minutes before the hour and us being wet and cold (bar John of course) we went in search of a café. Surprisingly we found one fairly quickly and indulged in hot chocolate courtesy of man with weird hair. Daniel and John went for a Jimmy in the back and naturally relayed the experience to the rest of us ? they'd weed in full view of passers by with the toilets doorless and the urinals exposed.

Our return to the tourist office enlightened us to a campsite ten miles further on our route, this after us rejecting the suggestion of pitching our tents at one of the several nudist camps dotted around. The last leg of the day's trip wasn't easy though with some proper hills now standing in our way. The rain slightly let up though and we made steady progress to Acy en Multien.

Steady-ish anyway: Kevin enhanced his reputation by veering his bike not once, twice but thrice onto the grassy roadside then dropping his bottle to complete the show but we made it in the end and rolled into the fifth campsite of our trip at about two pm.

Continuing on the theme of bog standard toilets (pun absolutely, most definitely intended), the campsite loos were again seat-less but were redeemed by the urinal that let you look out of a window and exchange looks with passers by while you peed. Again hot showers - excellent.

Matthew's efforts to get his laptop charged resulted in an attempt by himself, Kevin and me to plug it into the socket of a shaving cubicle, lock the door and climb over the door. We were promptly found out, namely because the owner was about to lock the toilet doors just as we were hatching out cunning plan. Incidentally on the way we looked in on the games room; a barn with two table tennis tables, some random birds nests and a lot of bird poo. We couldn't take more than a minute of mental birds flapping and screeching above our heads, so after we had paid our condolences to the fallen chick in the corner of the room, we got the hell out.

The evening culminated in intellectual conversation lasting seconds on end, frequent and loud farting and exchanging glances with the local gangsters, presumably on their daily round patrolling the mean streets of Acy. Sleep was well appreciated that night but of course was interrupted once again in the morning by a need to get up and ride a bike.

Paul

*kevinism is a newly defined term currently under consideration for inclusion into the 2008 Oxford English Language Dictionary, denoting 'an act, set of actions, word or phrase committed by someone in a manner that is, in the opinion of the receiver, giver or onlooker 'kevin-esque.

Distance: 81.77 miles
Time: 4 hrs 51 mins
Average Speed: 16.8
Weather: Rainyish