pub on the park at 9pm, dunwich beach 6.45am. 120 miles, from brixton. surreal isn’t the word. a snake of red lights, forever there for the overtaking, yet always stretching as far as you can see.
it’s now a bit of an institution, and thats a good thing. as well as the great semi-organisation from southwark cyclists, there were pubs staying open late, hot food at the ready; cycle shops setting up bacon buttie pit-stops en-route; cheering locals (whether pillars of the community or bemused yoofs just out of the pub); even a man in dressing gown at 5am, stroking his cat and telling cyclists the route goes left. all really quite special.