IT doesn't seem a whole year ago that we witnessed the Tour of Britain flying through Tavistock, it also doesn't seem a year ago that I knew nothing of cycling. Unfortunately the route didn't pass our doorstep directly this year but from the amazing crowds seen at the Haytor finish it proved the Devon supporters were still out in force.

As you can imagine I was keen to watch at least part of the Tour, only I couldn't make it to Haytor so the next best thing was a trip over the bridge to Wales. There is something contradictory with driving to spectate a cycling event; I was keen to avoid this although realised that a 130 mile round trip on my bicycle after a month of no exercise was maybe a little too ambitious. I compromised and cycled from a town just accross the border. After a few hours in the pouring rain accompanied by various debates as to where we were I was starting to wonder what I was doing, I'm glad to say the sun came out on Caerphilly Mountain just as the Tour of Britain arrived. We got double the value for our money — or our effort — as the cyclists had to climb the mountain twice, once was enough for me though.

It wasn't just in Wales that I experienced some damp cycling. After a month away I wasn't going to let the rain dampen my spirits, although maybe I should have let it influence my route.

I set off towards Widecombe in the fog and wet, this wasn't a problem until I got a little disorientated, lost all phone reception and then had a dreaded puncture. I had no choice but to attempt my first ever repair, unfortunately after an unsuccessful effort I had to be rescued and am yet again indebted to my father.