|A wistful gaze that would be the envy of Prof Brian Cox.|
Fresh from his triumphant win on the Champs Elysee and exhausted from his gold winning endeavours in London, Herdy Wiggins headed north for some serious R&R in the Lake District. Pausing briefly to give his regards to those lovely folks at The Herdy Company in Kendal he made his way south to the Riviera of Cumbria: Grange-over-Sands.
|"Ain't about the, ba-bling ba-bling."|
His goal was simple; a little peace and quite and maybe a spot of cycling, the fells would be but gentle hillocks compared to the Alpine climbs of a few weeks ago, plus no-on would make him wear the jersey that clashed with his sideburns again.
|The Frogs were still after him...|
His hopes of blending into the crowd were dashed when he realised he was at least 2 feet taller and 40 years younger than most of the residents, though some of the ex army types could give his mutton chops a run for their money.
|Far from the Madding Herd.|
Realising that Cav was possibly still somewhat miffed about not getting an Olympic medal (again) Herdy decided to blend in by drafting a peloton of unsuspecting tourists - surely one more sweaty backside wouldn't be noticed on a busy Bank Holiday? Unfortunately old habits die hard and he stormed up Kirkstone Pass, overtaking 2 coaches and moped. He then nipped down to Ambleside via the Struggle and whizzed back up for a pint at the inn "just for fun".
Now happily settled into his new home all it lacked was a decent throne, perhaps those nice folks at Herdy would consider whittling one up for him?
|"Ewe lookin' at me?"|