Trepidation

 I think we are all beginning to feel a rising of the sap; vitality is awakened, excitement builds. Only 600 km to go! But with this knowledge comes a certain wariness. Over the last three months one’s ears have become attuned to the steady beat of the engine, but now any variation is noticed, analysed, gnawed over. Was that a new thunk-thunk-thunk? What about that whine? Has that been there all along and only now am I hearing it? Surely that knocking is indicative of white metal disintegrating. Aaaagh! It drives you mad. Even as I write this I know, logically, that just because we are near the end, what has worked for the last 96 days is quite likely to work for another three—but, but, oh my gosh, did you hear that?

Ham, of course, has been hearing gremlins eating away at his engine for weeks now, but we—and he—are delighted to announce he has got this far. Another day; one fewer to conquer (yes, it’s fewer, not less).

Having arrived at the latest Hilton (I know, it’s tough rallying and we deserve a treat every now and then), some of us decided to reprise the famous Baku Golf Challenge. Astute readers, and those with good memories, will recall the occasion when Nellie stole the show and the prizes, beating Nigel and Ham with a little help from moi.

Unfortunately, Ham had electrical issues to deal with in his car, and Chris offered to replace him on the golf course—but only with financial inducement in the form of an outrageous bet. Odds of 600 to 1 were offered, but who was actually going to gain anything from such a wager? Sensibly, it was dropped.

So, Nellie, Nigel and your reporter engaged in “a good walk ruined”. Natural modesty prohibits me from mentioning the result.

Tomorrow is a long one. Pray for us.