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Like so often it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was more than fed up with cycling in the Dutch cold and grey wintry conditions and needed to de-stress from work related issues. My son Daniel was meant to join but he needed his time to study. Or so he said, perhaps suspect of my intentions. âŠ
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âMay I make a phone call first?â I asked the doctor as he had just explained that I would need surgery. I had participated in the âKankavli magicâ, a 200km Brevets Randonneurs Mondiaux (BRM) ride. The short rest at the 100km control point had done me good. I realised on my way back that I had a âŠ
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My 13 year old son Daniel called me from school this morning. âPapa, I don’t feel well. I have thrown up already twice.â To which I queried âYou mean to say can you pick me up now?â In a muttered tone he confessed âI know you are tiredâŠâ probably expecting me to be still in bed. Yesterday I âŠ
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