I reached the lowest of all low ebbs in Bridgwater in August 1990 one fine afternoon. I'd cycled to there in two and a half days from Bury. I'd had a bad morning, taking a wrong turn after I'd crossed the bridge from Chepstow and cycling for miles round bloody Avonmouth by mistake. I was confronted by a seriously terrible hot headwind over the Somerset Levels. Got to a park in Bridgwater, totally knackered, many miles from my day's objective, Exford on Exmoor. Phoned the missus (in those phone box times) in near-hysterics, saying I needed rescuing (it's only two and a bit hours from Bude). She demurred and told me to bloody man up. Bravely, I obeyed, ate two pork pies and made to it Exford in a ball of sweat. Thanks for letting me share...