I'm in the money

I'm dedicating this to my future benefactor, Prince George Sanoussi, the first son of Late Zainoul Abidine Sanoussi, who was the former Foreign Affairs Minister of Guinea-Conakry. I received an email from him last week, promising me quite a tidy sum of money after I'd organised some formalities about taxes or something. The future is rosy indeed.

This week, I have Roger "the Lodger" from England staying with me in my halfway house to do Giro live coverage. He has that famous British sense of humour that we all know and love, and can therefore ease some of the pressure. The Giro has been bloody good, I must say. Pity about Basso, but Sav, Di Luca, and Gibo are still in with a shout.

Roger's also vegetarian, but not one of those types, so when we went looking for a feed on Sunday night he was against the idea of going to the macrobiotic one down the road, which was shut anyway. Strangely, and rather disturbingly, we ended up at the Turkish Döner Kebab takeaway, and I had another foot-long kebab, while he had something that looked like frites and pineapple rings out of a can. No meat though. I must get myself out of this cycle of self-abuse, as after a few more visits to the takeaway, I think I'll need a liver bypass and reconstructive surgery on my semicolon. It can't be good for you.

Roger has popped off down to Luxembourg for a couple of days to visit friends/relatives/others, so that's at least two days I don't have to go Turkish. Well, it's all grist for the mill, as they say in the classics.

Riding update: Still on the bike, except when I'm falling off it. I'm supposed to be racing in Lovendegem this evening, but I will have to see how it is with a sore knee. Dang. Nothing that a lot of Arnica cream and frozen prawns won't fix, I hope. The training is still progressing, and on Saturday we averaged 40 km/h for our 60 km-ish mountainous loop, with a hell of a lot of wind. I couldn't do too much other than follow, but felt better coming back along the Schelde, which we did in 26'45 for 20 km. Sunday I just sat on, 'cos I was trying to take it easy, and we came back in 26'30. I therefore conclude that if I work, the average speed slows down.

On Monday, I had een koffie met Rebecca, and managed to knock her off her bike on wet cobbles (my fault, I slipped in the gutter). Dang. Hence the sore knee. Permission to laugh.

I have been summoned for Jury Duty in Oz too, but I fear it's a little far for me. I think I can get an exemption if I live more than 56 km from the courthouse. So all that remains is to prove to the Aussie Authoritaahs that Belgium is outside the 25 mile limit. I think I'll refer them to my agent, Prince George Sanoussi.

Four hours until race time so I'd better crank up the Rachmaninov-type doof-doof music.