As I was wrestling with the neoprene of my ineffective autumn gloves, he’s let me flippin’ tyres down. It’s not logic and science, and nor is it the puncture fairy. It’s secret option number three: sabotage! What other explanation can there be?
Three of us headed up there recently with a plan: park up, lay claim to Great Dun Fell and Hartside by bike – two of the jewels in the Cumbrian crown – and get out again without anyone attempting to serve us a “Cappuccino” made with instant granules.