So with Dylan playing on my MP3 I close my eyes and I see the future. There will be the customary dash for the coast to make the ferry then a trip down memory lane through St Omer, Arras and Laon to Rheims where the real trip begins. A saunter along the Marne Valley, its Route Vertes dedicated to cyclists just like me.
I shall eat local specialities, drink red wine and camp at picturesque sites in small villages. The sun will shine and all roads will be down hill.
Then across to Switzerland to see my friend Eric and confront the Alps. I may take the train to Italy but there seems something epic in slogging up to the pass where James Bond drove his Aston Martin and there I will stand astride the border. Far below will stretch the northern Italian plain basking in the sunlight. In the distance Sicily will glint like a jewel in the Medierranean Sea and beyond the haze of north Africa.
Now it's all down hill to Florence to collect Sally on Sept 1st. Yes, that's exactly how it will be. Won't it?
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