It's just the dress rehearsal. Things always go wrong!

Well, Sunday 29th August wasn't my most successful cycling day. It started okay. Breakfast. Pack the lunch. Route: Marchwood to Christchurch return. The weather was a little overcast but nice and cool for cycling.

Off I set. Legs a little tired from Saturday but nothing dramatic. Good ride back to Beaulieu, then the cycle path along the riverside, through the trees. Watch out for the routes and the mud.

Next stop Bucklers Hard. Very picturesque. Just as I'm heading for St Leonard's I notice my back wheel is behaving a bit strangely. Looking down it looks as though there might be a slight buckle. Difficult to explain but it kind of looks like a wobble. I make a mental note to get the spokes tightened before the big ride. It should be okay, I think, as long as I don't hit something.

There is nothing like cycling the quiet country roads of the New Forest with the sound of the wind in the trees and the tyre on the tarmac. It's good to feel alive. Like a teenager again when I used to cycle for miles wherever my fancy took me, without thinking of mileage and routes.

Sawley Pond is huge. When I think of a pond, I think of the ones in the villages with a few ducks on them. Sawley Pond is like a lake. I stopped to check the route and my tyre. Wow. There's a tear in it. Two inches long. Just the outer part of the tyre but a tear nevertheless. Oh no! I think. I'm three miles from Lymington. Can I make it without it blowing out completely? I do a quick risk assessment and take a chance.

For the next three miles, I cycle carefully, mindful of the tyre. Thinking I can get to a cycle shop at Lymington I feel that all is not lost. It won't take ten minutes to change it and then I can be on my way. I head through the town. Nothing. I go back to the station to ask. A man with a top hat is in the ticket office. This station is worth a visit - a step back in time.

Next thing I know, I have an escort of three children on bikes who are taking me back up the high street to the cycle shop. Not long now. The children are on adventure, showing me the short cuts. I remember when short cuts were the thing.

We arrive. It's moved. We follow the directions. Yeh! But no. The cycle shop in all its glory is shut. The sign says Sunday - Cycling. Still, all is not lost. There must be a cycle shop in Brockenhurst, a hop and stop away on the train.

Sue is at base camp. She texts me the number. Yes. The shop is open, but not my tyre in stock. At this point, I have to concede defeat. I console myself with a bag of chips and a walk by the waterfront. It is disappointing but I have loved my time in the New Forest. It's re-ignited me in some way.

Thanks to Sue who picks me up from Beaulieu Road Station, I return to base camp via Halfords. Rhod changes the tyre and, at least I'm set for Monday's ride back in Bristol.

The evening is well spent making our costumes and having our publicity shots done in the garden. Can't remember the last time I laughed so much. Rhod's face is a picture as he takes the photos and realises finally that we are both totally crackers!