For three years nine months I've puffed, panted and pedalled a total of 32,000 miles to the same photographic shop.
Yesterday the boss put the brakes on, nearly a week after my resignation to join a competitor, he decided I should pack my panniers.
Bizarrely, rather than pay me off, in a rather cranky move he wheeled me out to another store in the chain. Giving the chance to tell another raft of employees where I was going and why. Enough is enough, being escorted off the premises, without being sacked, is a bit like going over the bars into a soft bed of nettles. That happened to a mate of mine once, the same day he buckled a wheel and was stung by a bee!
Today I put an end to the situation and saddled up for the sun, figuring that if I have to fork out two weeks wages it'll be better value. My new employers, who have a button on the blog, will move my start date forward.
This photo was taken, by Birmingham Evening Mail in 1978. Back then I didn't record the mileage as Steve Haskey, Gary Barham and I (aged 14) cycled our wee legs out for 24-hours to raise £100. (It's me in the centre)