We were broken.
So, left work as financial insecurity seemed to be the obvious route to fixing the issue. Then I did the next best thing got on my bike.
I set off one November lunchtime and headed south, each day I stayed with friends old and new adopters and family. Eventually, 10 days later, I arrived at Parliament having travelled nearly 600 miles as I'd zig zagged across the country on my way. Why did I go, well that's the big question, I think it was desperation. Having seen the outrageous treatment of my daughters by the 'system' I felt I needed to do something and to make a pilgrimage to the seat of all power seemed to be the obvious thing to do. So that's what I did, a kind of pilgrimage, wth the full backing, endorsement and promotion of Mrs C I headed off and prayed for justice. At the time it as a truly miserable experience, I arrived at Parliament Green in the fading light with saddle sores, wet and cold on a dark Sunday afternoon, said a prayer (God, I'm sick and my kids are traumatised, please do something), shook my fist at the sky and the houses of parliament and then got the train home.
It just seemed like the thing to do so I did it.
Of course there's more to it than that, the people I met and the things I thought, but that's the bear bones. The problem is that over the last seven years the nagging thought that I should cycle home festered inside.
So, like a man with no grasp of common sense or regard for weather, distance or practical realities thats what I'm doing.
Big Ben to Northumberlandia (the naked lady is only a mile from my house)
This time I'm taking a trusty companion the immutable Zippy.
414 miles, 4 days, two bikes.