Proud to be a Londoner!

I was really glad to have made the trip from Milan back to London for the Olympics. It was well worth it.  After all the media circus about concerns over transportation, security, and too many Macdonald's restaurants the games came and went without any significant hitch.

The events that I watched live - cycling, athletics, fencing and beach volleyball were really well organised and it looked like alot of thought and detail had gone into the logistics. There were loads of smiling helpful volunteers on hand to welcome folks and point them in the right direction. Even the military and the police, who were drafted in to help with security were very jolly and got involved in the sporting festivities.

When I didn't watch events live I went to Potters Fields, a stretch of parkland between City Hall and Tower Bridge. That was a great place to be - sandwiched between iconic landmarks along the River Thames, watching various unforgettable moments unfold on the big screen. There were a few thousand of us there with our picnics and beers, but despite the large number of folks it still felt very initimate and friendly.

That's where I was on Super Saturday (4th August) when Jessica Ennis, Mo Farah and Greg Rutherford medalled on the running track. I had also been there the previous day when the goldrush began in the velodrome too.

On every occasion during the medal ceremonies everyone in the park stood up to sing the GB National Anthem. That was an impressive sight, considering that many of the folks were younger, not necessarily British, and maybe even republicans!

It's true that the spirit of the Olympics has really lifted me. It's not just the sporting prowess, and the pride in seeing GB athletes (particularly cyclists) winning medals, but just the way that London projected itself so positively across the world. I must say that if I were not from London I would certainly want to visit the city, and Surrey as well which featured heavily in the cycle races. The television pictures of all the venues, and the way that many venues had been decked out for the Olympics looked very impressive.

I was really glad to have made it to Horseguards, the Excel Centre and the Olympic Park. Box Hill looked even prettier than usual during the Olympics. Places which have ridden or run as part of my usual training routine like Hyde Park, Richmond Park and Box Hill looked even more splendid, and it made me even a little emotional seeing them become the centre-stage for the biggest sports contest on the planet!
For me, there is no better finish to a race than area of Buckingham Palace and Parliament Square/Big Ben. I can't imagine any athlete not enjoying completing their race on a more regal a street!

The one venue I do regret not going to was Greenwich Park. I remember doing a photo shoot there earlier in the year for Cycling Active magazine, and I marvelled over the views of the Maritime Museum, the City of London and the Canary Wharf complex. That must have been a great place to watch the equestrian sports and the modern pentathlon.

The games certainly inspired me, and probably many others. I want to ride my bike and run more. I'm even tempted to take up fencing!

As well as the sporting action, there were various cultural events, exhibitions and concerts that took place in open areas so London also showcased its creative side.

Nowhere was this shown more by the opening and closing ceremonies. Our opening ceremony was probably not as lavish as what we saw in Beijing four years ago, but director Danny Boyle showed how we can do things more simply and still give the same entertainment value, just by thinking outside of the box.

Even the weather played ball with us. Ok, so we didn't have heatwave weather, and we did watch the beach volleyball in full coats with umbrellas nearby, but the sun came out on the majority of days and the Games were by no means a washout!

Overall, the Olympics gave us a 2-week vacuum in which we focused on fun times, friendship and the emotion of pushing yourself and winning.

I am also so pleased that London really knocked the spots off other cities by putting on a great show, and Londoners have shown that this place is pretty cool! I wouldn't want to be from anywhere else!

'Lympics Innit!

So the London 2012 Olympics have finally arrived. After all the grumbling about disruption and gridlock, threatened strikes by UK Border staff, and protests by taxi drivers things have gotten underway - albeit with more business being done in the East End than in the West End.

An effort to jazz things up in the London rain!

I missed most of the Opening Ceremony as I was in transit from Milan back to London.

When I arrived in Croydon late last Friday night there were alot of people milling around in rather zany costumes, like glittery nurse outfits an skirts made out of silver coated plates. One woman was draped from head to toe in everything you could possibly wear in Union Jacks. Just an ordinary night out in Croydon's clubland? No - it was people who had taken part in the opening ceremony.


They'd played their part in television history and were on their way home, to watch the show on catch-up TV or i-player. Participants in the ceremony will have been rehearsing every weekend since April, but they still will have had no idea what the whole spectacle looked like because they were only exposed to their section of the event, which in itself will have had around 1400 performers. It's a bit ironic that even though they were at the centre of the action they would be the last people to see the opening ceremony! I have only seen highlights, but from what I have seen it looked quite spectacular.

Watching the peloton go by in the men's cycle road race near Box Hill

For me what has been very impressive has been the way that areas that I normally go to have been transformed beyond belief in order to accommodate the venues. For instance, the road race venue at Box Hill. The National Trust Centre on the hill had a new coat of paint, lots of new signboards giving information, facts and figures about the area, and various artworks painted on the walls. Even the ladies in the tea-shop had dressed up specially for the occasion and were even smilier than usual!

Olympic rings feature in various parts of the city, and there were some in the side of the hill above Dorking. Also, a road like Headley Common, which just gets horsey traffic and hikers and a few club cyclists was suddenly packed to the rafters with cycling fans, and team cars - just like in the Tour de France.

The Treasury Building was completely transformed for the Olympics

Horse Guards Parade, where the beach volleyball was held, looked surreal considering that this area is largely occupied by government offices hosting the corridors of power. What a contrast, having bikini-clad ladies playing in the sand next door to the suited and booted in the Prime Minister's office, or the Treasury Building!

 I am glad to see that the Olympics have still kept a London feel about it, with many events taking place in venues that we already know and love.



The police, the military, the gamesmaker marshalls and all other staff have been good spirited and shown some London humour. And we have even had some London rain, but nobody seemed to mind! So there we were worrying that things might be a bit shambolic, but in fact it's not been bad so far. May the games continue smoothly!

Enjoying women's beach volleyball at Horse Guards Parade

The Hills - er Mountains are Alive....Stelvio!!

A Gentle Starter

Of all the mountain passes I've ridden, I have to say that Stelvio is my favourite. I have done this climb before, but it was from the Prato allo Stelvio side.
Today, I would be tackling it from the Bormio side. I'm not sure which side is more famous. People say, Prato is, mainly because it is a little steeper. To be honest, when you've got around 20km give or take 3km of climbing to get you up to almost 2,800m above sea level any which way is tough!

In my case I was also going to be treated to a starter course in the shape of a 40km steady climb from Tirano to Bormio. With Tirano at 400m above sea level, and Bormio at 1200m altitude it wasn't going to be a tough gradient to reach Bormio, but freewheeling would not feature on the menu.

Just as the pros were blessed with glorious sunshine the previous week when they rode this course, I had the same clement weather to enjoy.

As I worked my way through the lanes I kept in mind the words of the proprietor of the bed and breakfast. "Stelvio is a long way away and a long way up as well. Just make sure you come back tonight!"

Well, I would do my best!

Just as there were a few cyclists out on the Mortirolo the previous day, there were even more out along the road to Bormio. There's always an uplifting feeling being on a route which had hosted the world's top cyclists, a massive media and publicity caravan, as well as thousands of avid tifosi.

My route to Stelvio was very straightforward. I just headed towards the snow-capped peaks which were directly in front of me, in the distance. I also benefited from route signs on the road that had been put up in advance of a Gran Fondo event that was taking place the following day, and which would take riders over the Stelvio and the Mortirolo.
I would have taken part in the event, but I wasn't sure if the logistics would allow it, and I didn't know if I would be fit enough to ride Mortirolo and Stelvio in the same day, and, and, ok I was making excuses!

Anyway, I made it to Bormio without any problem. By the way, this is a pretty town. The main square is old and quaint with a few churches, very much in the typical Italian style, and with a fountain and some stylish bars. Bormio's a popular ski-ing area, and probably not a bad option for those looking for a quick winter-sports weekend away from Milan.

Main Course

So onwards to the main meal of the day, the Passo dello Stelvio. A number of signs reminded me of what lay ahead - 1600m of climbing and 21km. The summit was still a along way up. Folks coming down into the main square had smiles on their faces, though they were well wrapped up. So I knew I would really enjoy the descent (eventually) even if it was going to be pretty chilly up there!

The early part of the climb was fine gradient-wise. The main challenge were the various tunnels. There are around six of them in rapid succession. A few of them are around 500m long, poorly lit, twisty and narrow and on a gradient; the perfect combination to make me feel unsafe and a little scared as various motorbikers and motorists zoomed up and down the roads. Thankfully I had a high visibility jacket with me.

Countdown from 46 to 1!

Once out of the tunnels the serious climbing began. There were 46 hairpins to count down to reach the summit, and I still had 1,000m of climbing to do! It was just a case of grinding away steadily and keeping my head, knowing that I would eventually get there.

Sometimes it was easier to stop and have a look behind me, and marvel at the views below. It also felt good to know that I had made a bit of ground. As the road twisted and turned I was getting a little disorientated about which way was up or down!

Tons of motorbikers, motorists and cyclists passed me. This was definitely the place to be on a Saturday afternoon. I chatted to a local cyclist on the way up, who had signed up to do the Gran Fondo the following day. He had meant to be taking it easy, but he said it was much too nice a day to not ride. He knew he would pay for it during the cyclosportive! I guess when you have Stelvio on your doorstep you can be laid back about these things!

At one point the road led me into a wide open valley, and I had around 5km left. Things were getting tough. The gradient was still steady, but my legs were tired, and my breathing was becoming more laboured. Every 100m gained meant I had to stop and "acclimatise" for a minute . It had been a couple of years since I last rode at above 2,500m and my body was feeling it.

The day was beginning to feel long as well. I had left the bed and breakfast in the morning, and it was approaching late afternoon. A hotel in distance marked the summit less than 3 miles away but riding there felt like an eternity. It was too far away for comfort, and the hairpins were not counting down quick enough.

At least the sun was still shining, even if by now I had needed to put on my armwarmers. After more grinding and taking comfort in knowing a few other guys near me were also living through the same strenuous moment, I reached the top. Thank Goodness!


I brought home the bacon bratwurst!

It had been a long old slog, but I had made it. The first thing I did was to dive into the nearest bratwurst (aka hotdog) stand. Everyone was speaking in German around there and my brain wasn't in any state to try the lingo. So I just asked for "la stessa cosa che lui," pointing at the jovial man in front of me and giving the I'll have whatever he's having look!

The hotdog and chips definitely hit the spot, and boosted my energy levels after all my efforts. I guess at €14 a pop it was also the perfect boost to the wallet of the vendors too, who were strategically placed opposite tired and emaciated cyclists arriving at the summit!

I got talking to an Australian guy who had ridden up from Prato, then down into Switzerland, and round again to climb back up Stelvio from Bormio! Well if you've travelled half way round the world you have to get your money's worth of hills and hairpins! Chapeau all the same! That is definitely something to aspire to.

The top of the Stelvio was actually quite lively, with lots of souvenir stores as well as snack vendors. There were also a couple of bars. If you wanted there was a mini walking trail to get up to another observatory about 100m further up. I was happy with the vistas where I was!
There was the usual melange of cyclists and motorbikers, with the two camps hanging out in their designated areas. Where there are twisty mountains, there will be motors and leather.

As I imagined, the ride home was a lovely fairground ride around the various corners, twists and turns. The tunnels gave me no problems either as I zoomed through them.

When I returned to the bed and breakfast around 7.30pm the proprietor was so glad to see me. She jokingly said she had been about to send out a search party! "I had just taken my time." I told her. I didn't tell her I'd had no choice in the matter!

The pizzoccheri and wine I had that evening were definitely well deserved!

It had been good to take in those two legendary climbs - Stelvio, and Mortirolo during my stay in Valtellina.

(photos coming shortly)

Venturing out to Mortirolo

Tirano Cycle Path

Work commitments meant that I didn't arrive in Tirano until the afternoon, so by the time I'd checked into my lodgings there was no chance of me doing a very long ride. As the Passo del Mortirolo looked relatively local I decided to go there though. The days were long, so I knew I could ride until around 8pm (though I was expecting to be home well before then).

From Tirano it was a very easy spin up a cycle path that followed the Adda River towards a town called Grosio. It's quite scenic as you can see all the high mountains ahead of you and you can relish or even fear the idea of possibly going up there on your bike!

Towards the foreground, you are treated to the sound of the flowing water of the river Adda (or what was left of it). There hadn't been much rain so the level was quite low. Nevertheless, folks were still out there tempting their chances fishing in the area.

This was quite a pleasant cycle path that could be used by all the family. In fact, there were families out riding on the path - people on all different types of bicycles as well as club riders and a number of runners too.

Riding through quiet woodland and past fields, it was very refreshing to be in countryside where I wasn't being attacked by midges and flies, as is often the case in the area around Milan!

It wasn't always clear which way I was meant to go, and in fact another cyclist who had overtaken me along the way rode back asking me if I could give him directions. It's always funny when an Italian comes up to me in Italy, asking directions how to get somewhere!

Fear of Mortirolo

Without realising it, this inocuous family cycle path was actually a false flat that climbed steadily, and after about 5 miles I had gained a bit of height and Tirano was now a distant memory some way below me! As the path went further and further into the unknown I could see that I was in proper club riders' country and I began to wonder how soon it would be before I reached the legendary climb. I'd heard alot about the Mortirolo - all scary things - you come to a wall and you freak out, wondering how the hell you are going to get up. Was I doing the right thing only giving myself the afternoon to climb up it??

A jaunt with Giulio

Soon a club rider came breezing by and I asked him by chance if I was on the right road to Mortirolo. He told me I had passed the turn-off.
"But this is the way to Grosio isn't it?" I asked, a little puzzled.
"It is," he replied, but the proper way up is behind you."
"There are two ways of going up aren't there?" I asked, hoping for him to confirm what I had seen on the map. "There are actually four - come with me, and I'll show you."

So I duly followed this guy who didn't have an ounce of fat on him and rode his Pinarello like he was wholly at one with his two wheeled horse. I, with my day pack, long pants and carrying an extra 3kgs of adipose tissue didn't quite move with the same finesse and worked pretty hard to hold his wheel.

We joined the main road and very quickly reached the village of Tovo Sant'Agata. This was the route that the pros at the Giro d'Italia had taken the previous week. The TV pictures of the slope had looked scary enough, and here we were at the foot of the road that was going to give us 10km of sheer pain. "What sort of gearing do you have?" he asked.
"A 34 tooth compact and 27 on the back." I replied nervously.
"Hmm, you should be fine with that. The slope is 21% in places."
Yikes! Of course I didn't tell him that I had only done a couple of climbs 7% climbs around Bergamo since March. My legs were not quite geared up to ride these tough gradients that beckoned.
"Let's have a look at the other options." I responded, relieving myself of this painful challenge. We rode down the road at pace.

The guy was a butcher from Grosio called Giulio. He had a pig farm, and worked just in the mornings. Every afternoon he rode his bike around the local hills for about 3 hours. Naturally he looked very fit for his 56 years.
Giulio was really proud of this area - for him this was God's country.
"We have all the best climbs in the world here - Mortirolo, Gavia, Stelvio, Bernina, Aprica. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
When I asked him if he would be doing the planned cyclosportive that was taking place in the area the following day he gave a fearful look, claiming he was much too slow and too old to be doing this sort of thing.
And there was I, with my aspirations of riding La Marmotte cyclosportive challenge, panting just to keep up with this whippet on his afternoon pootle around the local lanes!

At one point Giulio drafted off a tractor which was rolling at 20miles an hour up a false flat. I clung onto his wheel, the sweat pouring down my face on this warm June afternoon. I had only been expecting to take it easy until I reached the climb. I was much too overdressed and probably overweight to be doing this!

We eventually reached the village of Mazzo where we turned into a little lane which climbed above the village to reach the classic route up the Mortirolo.

To be honest, even if this had been the most uninteresting, unknown way up the Mortirolo I would have found a way of bidding good bye to Giulio and finding my own way to the climb!
I was knackered, and needed a breather. I would have done a training ride just to get to the foot of the climb, and Giulio would be dumping me there all spent up of energy to tackle the ascent! It was better to quit him sooner rather than later!
"This is the way to get up Mortirolo," Giulio said. "It is the best way up. Forget about Grosio or Tovo!"
And I was glad to. I needed a few minutes to recover before tackling the beast! Well, the reassuring thing was when he bade me good bye, he was actually out of breath and had difficulty speaking! I think he must have been trying to impress me with his Italian speed and athleticism! It's always good to meet a local when out on a bike ride, and I was grateful to Giulio for having shown me around a few places. It had certainly saved me a few minutes of mapreading too!

And so to Mortirolo

So, here I was in Mazzo, a little hamlet in Northern Italy, on a hot day in June, about to scale one of the most notorious mountain passes in Italy!
A few old boys sitting on a wall in the village square gave me funny looks, as I set off up the road. "Don't you have a husband to go with you?" They asked.
"Do I need one of those to ride up a hill?" I asked.
They looked quite bemused.

The signboard at the start of the climb told me all I needed to know - 12km, average gradient 10%, with stretches of 18%. And the climb did exactly what it said on the tin. Nothing more, nothing less! If only it had been less!

This was the first time that I was riding significantly above 1,000m and I felt it. The road was very narrow and twisted through the trees. I normally welcome hairpins as they are a chance for respite as the road flattens a little before the next ramp. The Mortirolo is not so forgiving though! The hairpins were actually steeper than the straight sections!

There was not much traffic around on this Friday afternoon, which was a blessing. The problem with a working day though, is that commercial traffic is still around, as well as road works. There were a few tractors, vans and steam rollers resurfacing the roads. Luckily the times that they came round was on a section where I could ride easily and tuck into the side of the road.
On one occasion I was obliged to speed up around a corner in order to get ahead of an approaching van. I was at around 1600m at this point, and my body really felt it. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest, and my breathing was so loud I was sure they could hear me back in Tirano!

Maybe I should have had a husband with me to provide assistance - any husband! It was difficult to see the summit through the trees and there were no km markers saying how much I had left. There were signs counting down the 38 numbered hairpins, and those counted down very slowly! Not all the hairpins were numbered either so there were probably quite a few more than 38 to count down! My only guide was that Giulio had told me that it took him 65 minutes to climb Mortirolo. I immediately estimated it would take me double the time.

One brief stop I took was to look at the Marco Pantani memorial plaque part way up. It was like a mini shrine to him, with lots of cycling jerseys, bidons and other memorabilia honouring him.

Mortirolo Conquered!

The minutes ticked by slowly, as I began to take more rests just after the different hairpins. This was more because I wasn't well acclimatised. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!) Finally, after 2hours and 15mins of grinding away, and at an altitude of 1850m the road opened out and the end came into sight.

I wanted to celebrate having conquered the Mortirolo. Shame there was no bar nearby. Instead I contented myself with a celebratory energy bar - not quite the same effect, but hey! Another cyclist arrived at the summit from the opposite direction. He was on a hybrid bike, and admitted he had taken the "easier" way up from Edolo (still 14km at 7%)! And like Giulio, he was a local who had just ridden up as part of an afternoon jaunt. The locals around here must be mighty fit! My ride back to base at Tirano was lovely. It was all downhill and the views around were very impressive. I was very happy to have made it up the Passo del Mortirolo (also known as Passo della Foppa), even if it had been a grind. It hadn't been a pretty way of getting up but I fought through the hairpins, the heat and the racing heart and I had conquered it. I had a smile on my face all the way back to my base.

The polenta and beer that evening was well earned!

The Hills are Alive in Tirano

I finally made it to the proper high mountains. It took a while coming, but it has happened now - and I'm glad to have overcome that very big hurdle! Just because you're in Italy does not mean that you are always riding up the legendary climbs featured in the Giro d'Italia - far from it! Milan sits in a plain and for about 30 miles in each direction there is barely a ramp in the road - a bit like the Vale of York. The local cyclists around here ride the flat lanes and canal paths between Milan and Pavia where there are only gentle climbs. The cycling is far from gentle though, as the folks are damn quick sprinters from what I can see. There is one hill here in Milan - basically a rubbish dump that has been reclaimed to look like natural land - how pretty! I know a girl whose hill training consists of just running/cycling up and down that hill for about 3 hours - what fun!

If you go further out, towards Bergamo and the lakes (Como/Lecco/Maggiore) you are in the Brianza area which then gets hilly. At that point you are faced with lovely switchbacks that take you up to around seven or eight hundred metres above sea level, with the highest peaks around 1300m. That is more like what you get in the North of England or Cornwall, but less grim and without the comically steep climbs. For those, you need to go a little bit further North. Try the Valtellina area - which is where I went.

Earlier this month I took the train to one of the gateway towns of Valtellina, Tirano, and was based there for a couple of days. It is quite a touristic town, on account of the church, known as the Madonna del Tirano. It is also a start point for the Bernina Express, a mountain train that goes through some of the most spectacular landscape, to reach St Moritz and other areas in Switzerland.

Tirano is also a hub for getting to some of the most famous mountain passes - the Bernina Pass, Passo di Gavia, Mortirolo and the mighty Stelvio. These, along with various other climbs to reach mouintainside villages are the diet of any road cyclist who comes to the area - and I am glad to have been there.

Milan keeps it real for the Giro

Being in Milan is handy for seeing some of the cycle races. Earlier this year I went to Piazza Castello to see the start of the Milan-San Remo. Later this year I plan to see the Tour of Lombardy, which will start in nearby Bergamo.

At the end of May I was lucky enough to go and see the queen of Italian cycling events, the final stage of the Giro d'Italia. I would have liked to have seen a few of the other nearby stages as well, like the team time trial in Verona, or the mountain stage to Lecco. But like with alot of things, life got in the way so it wasn't possible.
So, I just had to settle for an afternoon around Piazza Castello and Piazza del Duomo!

Last year I saw the final stage of the Tour de France, so was interested to compare the atmosphere of the final stage of these two grand tours.

What struck me about the Giro, and very similarly with the Milan-San Remo was how easy it was to get near the action. There was a cordoned off section for the press and VIPs - though that was mainly to get clear photographic viewing points, or easier access to Prosecco's and aperitivos.
The time trial started at Piazza Castello and went around the Parco Sempione before doing a circuit of Milan and returning to Piazza del Duomo.
Even on the early section of the route it was easy to get a clear view of the rider as there was a lot of space to see what was happening. I saw the mighty Geraint Thomas of Sky power round the corner, but my photographic skills were only good enough for me to snap his back wheel as he sailed away through the trees!

The start gantry area was a little bit more crowded, but again there was a clear view of riders. Also, as it was a time trial the various riders warmed up on turbo trainers next to their team buses and all these areas were open season to the public. I got a good view of Michele Scarponi warming up.
You could even accompany a rider right up to the green room as he rode along to the start. At one point a huge crowd ran alongside a rider. I didn't know who it was, until I realised Ivan Basso had just brushed past me!
Once these guys are at the green room you see them all sitting, waiting their turn to start racing. In some cases the sense of nervousness and tension was palpable - even when standing 10feet away. You didn't need to be a fly on the wall to sense the atmoshphere between Ryder Hesjedal and Joaquim Rodriguez before their rides!

It was interesting to wander around the different team buses and see the gear that these professional teams come with to such events. The mechanic's van would be like paradise to the gadget geeks! I also noticed the various suitcases of the riders. It looked as though many of them would be leaving Milan right after the presentation ceremony. It was a clear message to say - "I'll get this ride done and then I'm out of here as soon as...!"
Well, why wouldn't you? If you've been away from your family for the best part of 3 weeks getting a sore bum riding round some of the toughest roads in Italy, it's quite normal to want to get home and relax at your earliest convenience!

Anyway, the whole thing was set up in such a way that the public could mill around, mixing with riders taking photos of them - sometimes even with them. There were expo stands of different bike related items, and other side shows, including an urban DJ sound system. Piazza del Duomo lends itself very well to the presentation as the square is big enough to accommodate everyone. There was exciting commentary both in Italian and in English (care of London's finest, Anthony MacCrossan), a big screen alongside the actual presentation stage so that everyone got to see the action.

On balance, I would say I preferred my day out at the final day of the Giro, over my final day at the Tour de France. Granted, the Tour also makes for a great day out, but the Giro certainly has a more relaxed, human feel about it and you feel closer to the action.

Sixty years of turning those wheels!

Just wanted to say a very Happy Diamond Jubilee to Queen Elizabeth II. I managed to find this old photo of her as a child, riding her bike in Hyde Park. How would this young carefree child have known that less than 20 years later she'd be crowned queen - and even more, that she'd be doing the same job more than 70 years later!
Such a thought would have properly freaked me out!

I guess being a royal and the head of over 60 million subjects as well as millions around the Commonwealth countries must have its priviledges. I wouldn't mind having regal homes in St James's Park, Windsor Castle or up in Scotland. It would be great having a chauffeur to drive me around in my Bentley, or even a few horse drawn carriages - not to mention a stable of horses and 100 corgies!

But when it comes down to it, being the Queen must be a bit of a chore sometimes - having to get up everyday to visit various people, opening museums and attending functions up and down the country - and beyond. Even having to meet with Gordon Brown or David Cameron every week!!

You always have to look immaculate and smile, or at least not frown. You can't look tired and you can't complain. You just have to get up every morning and do it all again, following all the formalities and doing what is constitutionally correct. The wheels are continuously turning. You can't break a chain or slip a gear.

If I were her I'd certainly wish I could just be an ordinary young woman, (or even and older woman!) just riding my bike and enjoying a life without so much ceremony.

So I must say, I have alot of admiration for Queen Elizabeth II. Through the good times and the difficult times of the Royal Family she's had to show continuity and correctness. I think that for her 60 years on the throne she hasn't done badly at all, and is a good example to us.

Anyway, I'm off to ride my bicycle, and will give a thought to our admirable and dutiful Queen who over all these years has never thrown a sickie at the prospect of having to meet with a slimey Prime Minister or stand through a rainy river pageant!

And if you do, decide to just bunk off for one day and ride your bike, I don't think people would mind too much!

Happy Diamond Jubilee!