Lip up fatty

---

There's a funny smell in the cyber cafe, and I realise it's me. Stale armpits, yummy. But that's not the worst of it. 2 days ago I stop for a little chat with a french cyclist with a green tarpulin over his rack and he calls me a fatty! I explained I'd just eaten a banana, but it didn't wash. I'm not a fatty, just well proportioned. And then it's been loads more rain, thunder, lightning and a change of route up into the Vercors mountains, slug trails on my cycle shorts, many peanuts, loads of cheese (fattinesses), Phil Collins on the radio (the musical equivalent of a slug in your nether garments) and shamelessly delaying setting off today, as it's up up up, then down down down, followed by another up up up. I think that just about brings things up to date. I'm loving France! Really. (In case of doubt, slugs visit my shorts at night sometimes, they don't overtake me when I'm actually pedalling.)

---