Gatwick is shite.
I’m a bit of an airport snob as I live so close to Heathrow, I dislike spending time in budget airline hubs. This evening, Valentine’s night, I am drinking alone in a Premier Inn beside North Terminal. I am trying to enjoy a Magners knowing I have another hour or two of work waiting for me in my room.
BUT… in a few hours I’ll be landing in Murcia – or Alicante – not sure – and rolling towards Cartagena where, besides more temperate climes, good company and cheap beer, a race track awaits. Said race track has been provisioned with my trusty steed ahead of my arrival, thus facilitating a long-overdue adrenaline hit for little ole me.
Last year I didn’t enjoy riding round Cartagena much. I wasn’t feeling good about my riding, the bike wasn’t working well, I lost some confidence and my mate Danny took a bit of a tumble. This year I will have fun. It’s back to basics, build myself back up slowly and put a smile on my face. I’m recovering from injury and it’s been a long time since I put in any decent laps on a bike, so I’m going to set expectations low and just have fun. I’ve arranged for some help, so we’re all set.
Wish me luck!