July seems to have gone much the same way as March – out of the window.

That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t a lot of time for cycling (1,256 miles) and bedroom floor rowing (several rucked rugs worth) and panicky book-writing (up to 90,000 words now).

Am feeling itchy to set sail on my wheels for foreign parts, but instead I’m going to stay put for a little longer to write a book about cycling around New Zealand, which is what the book that is bobbing about on my editor’s desk is supposed to be about, but isn’t, as it’s about bobbing about on a boat instead.

Oh Deer

Oh Deer