Remember how I mentioned yesterday that I’m working on an event this weekend?

It’s the Tour de Trigs1, an overnight 30-mile hike around the high spots of north Oxfordshire and Warwickshire. I’m doing the same job as last year, being the radio-operating person for one of the rescue teams. This is good, because they were fun to work with last year and I’m looking forward to seeing them again. It’s also bad, because it means that even though the event starts and finishes in Banbury, I don’t know where I’ll be at any time so I can’t arrange to meet up with the fabby JG and Ned.

I’m travelling there and back by train – last year I got an hour’s sleep between getting up on Saturday and getting home Sunday, ard I don’t really fancy driving in that tired a condition. Annoyingly, the train ticket is cheaper than the amount of diesel the Gruntmobile would use anyway.

So this evening is being spent running round like a loony sorting my kit out for the weekend. Now where did I put my thermal underwear?

1 Yes, I know it should be Tour des Trigs, but it isn’t. Tell the organisers.

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