50,000 word novel, done.

Well, not quite done.

And no you can't read it. (But 50,000 words in a month, that is done. And I've got some sleep to catch up on.)

Halfway through National Novel Writing Month, halfway through novel...

Over in the world of 50,000 words in one swift month I'm halfway there! Made it to 25,000 words (not all of which I have spelt correctly or make narrative sense) this morning. According to the rules of the game all first drafts are rubbish, so we're doing alright.

And strangely had time for a few other things these last few weeks:
- halfway through knitting a scarf which I want to finish in tandem with National Novel Writing Month
- clocked over another 1000 on by bicycle on Tuesday (and I have to write that down so I don't forget when I publish the next picture, though Justin's camera has gone a bit disco and the picture is a bit purple and blurry so I'm not too excited about it.
- signed up to do London Marathon in April. And raise money for WellChild for said marathon place.

Best get back to my fictional world where I need another 700 words before bed...

The 5000 km photo

This is the 5000 km photo, still in London, early morning daily commute, but you can't really tell that as Justin's camera has decided that it doesn't want to take bog-standard photos like all of the other cameras in the world. And that it likes disco.

I'd like to say that this photo was taken on Bill Oddie's street (him from the Goodies, now on reasonably tame nature docos) but in reality this is the street that I once saw Bill when I was cycling the other way, in summer. That version of the story isn't quite so tidy.

(I confess, yet again I'm writing this in the distant future. Keeping you on your toes, yes).

Interlude

Shortly, you'll get an update on what we did in France (which was mostly sample delicious pastries and apple related products). But while the curtains have been pulled and you're waiting for your popcorn, please pay attention to the following public service announcements:

- I pitch up as the new kid at the Money Advice Trust in a week (yup, new job that is...)
- I've signed up to participate in National Novel Writing Month in November. (There, I've said it... have to do it now)
- Haven't decided if I can commit to fundraising £1500 for the London Marathon (have to see if thats feasible with new commute etc) - looks like possibly not.

Onwards, then.

The 4000 km photo

I've done 4000 kms! Way hey. Not so much as lycra or clipless pedals in sight. This was taken in the middle of Normandy on day three of our France cycle adventure (and back dated as such...).

This wasn't one of the rainy days, in fact it was pretty sweet from start to end. Nice tarmac in France.

Four days till France/Camp/Cycle/Adventure

We've got two panniers each, tenting equipment, vague plans of cooking some food along the way, a map with campgrounds marked and return ferry tickets to Newhaven.

This is a trip that we meant to do back near Easter but we bailed out because April / May weather was looking atrocious. This means there has been a reasonable amount of planning (even a googlemap somewhere in the ether) and at the other end of the 'er' summer, we're fitter, possibly better prepared. Plus the International Kite Festival happens to start the weekend we land in Dieppe.

Ready to go, I'd say - except that that today the GDP listed at an all time low against the Euro, and there's a pretty high chance of rain... ah, well, all part of the adventure.

The 3000 km picture

Three thousand kilometres in and its another central London road...

The clock ticked over just before an odd art deco building with giant stone cats outside, which sounds exotic but its just down the road from my work, and on the road up to Camden (Camden Road?) Most of the last 1000 kms have been done on the daily commute, except a ride down to Brighton, two day trip out to Oxford and a quiet weekend ride north of London to see friends of Justin's.

Its summer, would you believe it? Not from this picture anyway...

May 2008 update

Another month has sped by, this one aided by three trips out of town, first we managed an overnight ride up to Oxford (trip report on its way), then hopped over to Italy to the Cinque Terre coastline for Justin's birthday, then I caught my breath in London for two days and headed to Helsinki, Finland to attend a conference for work, go to a very expensive spanish restaurant and head out into the wood to hunt for bears and make fires. I might treat you to some photos of me, Naomi and Vanessa in the woods, if you're lucky. We didn't see any bears.

Still trying to figure out the bugs on this publishing software as I don't want a long post tag up for everything that I write, and it should be a bit easier to organise that now I've got a flash new Asus Eee, which is possibly the smallest useful computer in the world. Its pretty cool.

The 2000 km photo

April Critical Mass bike ride in central London - this is just after we'd turned TCR corner into Oxford Street, not that you can tell from photo. Dusk just falling at about 8pm on a Friday night. Justin and I left at the early evening hour of 9:00. First fine Critical Mass of 2008, and you got the feeling that they could be going all night....

Trip Report: Overnight from Lisbon to Sesimbra

Cycling from Lisbon without maps or bikes or any fixed plans, first time riding on European roads with no useful Portuguese to speak of… it seems a little daunting, even in the doorway of Didier’s bike shop in down town Lisbon. But he welcomes us in, sizes us up and pulls out maps to illustrate the options for us – our hesitant plan of cycling down into the Sebutal coast is just one possibility and other routes a short train ride north of the city could also be done easily in a day or two.

Didier pulls together a plan, with a couple of distance options and outlines the route we can follow, reassures us we won’t need to book accommodation ahead and points out a couple of places we can catch trains back from in the morning.

Across the mouth of the Rio Tejo by ferry and our adventure has officially started. We soon leave the village at the tip of Caparica coast, and it’s just us, forests, the occasional military installment to our left and glimpse of the sea to our right. We turn off onto a forest track just before midday and struggle to control bikes or pick up any speed in thick piles of soft sand. We soon catch up with a solo driver whose shiny car doesn’t seem to suit the terrain any better than our bikes. The driver is taking photos and stops every few metres. At one point we pass him, but he catches up, rolls down his window and asks us where we are heading.

Justin pulls out a map and points to a road that this one should meet up with. The driver is silver-haired and speaks enough English to tell Justin that he is the caretaker of the forest and is taking photos, watching for fire risks and noting repairs on behalf of the owner.

He shakes his head at the direction we’re trying to take, gestures for us to follow him, opens a gate and points to the road perpendicular to this one. This strange apparition watches us pedal away before driving through in his car and shutting the gate behind himself.

Our new path is still sandy but slightly more firm and shaded by saplings. We’ve got the companionship of dragonflies, butterflies and random large flying beetles. About 15 minutes later we remember Didier’s words of advice. Not only did he say we would meet people on the track who would tell us we weren’t going the right way, but if this did happen, no matter what, we shouldn’t follow their directions. This quiet forest seems slightly more menacing.

After what seems a long time in the scorching heat of an autumn afternoon, we emerge onto something which looks more like a real road. There is tarmac, a few buildings, then at the crest of a hill, an industrial sized barn with a group of people sitting outside, facing this enormous helicopter pad. A small lake can be seen far below. We’re not sure exactly where we’ve ended up, so we approach the people sitting outside this barn facing an empty helicopter pad in the middle of nowhere. We offer our map and ‘lost’ but don’t get much compassion or interest back, so the only option is to head down this hill towards the lake and cross our fingers.

We find our bearings again and then find a roadside cafe for lunch of toasted sandwiches and cokes. It isn’t long before we see the castle above our goal for the evening, Lisbon’s seaside resort - Sesimbra. Although our goal of an afternoon swim is tantalisingly close, the sign towards the scenic route into town beckons. Not withstanding the final climb and a few fierce guard dogs the traffic free ride down into the harbour is almost reward enough.

Our bikes are stowed at our basic (and fairly grim) accommodation and we manage a dip in the sea and half an hour baking on the near empty beach before finding fresh fish for dinner at a lively local restaurant.

With concrete block holiday resorts and hotels crowding the sea front, Sesimbra isn’t as pretty as nearby Lisbon, but it does have an almost festival atmosphere, with crowds of people taking a late night stroll along the waterfront and sitting outside bars late into the evening.

The next day’s climb starts later than we should have because of confusion over breakfast. After what seems like 30 minutes steep climbing we start coasting downhill and hit the main road which is busy with trucks, cars and bigger trucks going the other way. Its hot work, smoggy and not particularly fun. Around 15 km later we eventually hit Fogueteiro, the nearest town where we can catch a train back to Lisbon.

Cycling through Lisbon, downhill all the way, is exhilarating, even if we’ve only got a basic tourist map and little sense of direction. Bikes are returned to the restaurant next door to Bike Iberia, as it’s a Sunday and Didier had other plans. We grab a beer and watch sardine grillers go about their business before catching the train up to Sintra sans bicycles. Cycling mission accomplished.