An Orange Parade

I am Father Christmas who gave me my first bike
And my father who took the stabilisers off, 5 years later.
I am all the people who have sponsored me
And potentially the people who have said they will.
I am the wasp that flew in my eye in Lissycasey
I am the choc ices that reduced the swelling in my knees.
I am the American couple that wouldn’t talk at breakfast
And the Dublin volunteer worker who did.
I am a spitting geographer and an iPod charger that didn't work.
I am Denzil Gunner and I cycled Ireland south to north – challenge complete.


Being (a) on my own and (b) a bit tragic, every time I took a break from cycling I would replay the section of the trip I had just completed and jotted down all the thoughts I could remember thinking in that time. My intention was to use this as the basis of my Ireland report but I have now decided that these will be, unedited, the posts. I am allowing myself this act of incredible arrogance so that when I am the only person reading this (i.e. now) I have a pretty much contemporaneous summary of what was happening in my head during the challenge. The posts will be very long, even by my excessive standards but even then they are not thorough. I have not gone back and added thoughts that were recalled after the immediate jottings so it is missing my 30 minute rumination on whether any adaptations would be required to turn a horsebox into a cowbox and the analysis of Irish etiquette (all swear words are fine in any company but burping was not).

So the next 7 posts are extra-curricular reading, they will not count towards the end of year party qualification exams. The only relevant details are 415.5 miles cycled over 4 days and 3 hours at an average of just under 12.5 miles per hour. The rest is pure self-indulgence.