Eleven hundred kilometres, one bad saddle and no conclusions worth repeating.

The plan, such as it was, came together in about ten minutes. I had a free month, a second-hand bicycle and a problem I did not want to talk about. So I pointed the bicycle south.

The first week

For the first week I thought about the problem constantly. I rehearsed conversations on the hills. I won several arguments with people who were not there. My knees hurt and I slept badly and I composed, in my head, a very moving account of all this for friends who had not asked.

The second week

Somewhere in the second week I noticed I had not thought about it since breakfast. There was too much to do. Find water. Find bread. Work out whether that cloud was a threat. A body that is busy all day does not leave the mind much room to pace.

I came back with the same problems and much stronger legs, which turned out to help.

What it did not fix

I should say clearly that this is not advice. I did eventually go and talk to someone, in a small room with a box of tissues, and it did more than the road did. But I arrived at that room able to say what was wrong in a single sentence, and I am not sure I could have done that without the eleven hundred kilometres.

The bicycle is in the shed. The saddle went in the bin at the first opportunity. I recommend neither, and I would do it again.