Having left our minimalist accomodation with no breakfast – not even a cup of tea as there was no kettle, no mugs, no tea we set forth for Liverpool. A friendly cyclist helped us out of town after a quick bacon sarnie + tea at the cafe. We were asked at the counter whether we wanted balm cake or baton??? (Lancashire bread traditions – in yorkshire you get bread cakes). We first set sail for Southport mostly on B roads and very flat – very Dutch we thought
Ate an excellent lunch of pea and ham soup followed by a rocky road for dessert (these are everywhere nowadays). We picked up yet another fantastic national cycle route which took us almost straight to our B&B in Liverpool. Pete and I were very much looking forward to coming across some of that famous scouse humour we’d heard about.
While poking our heads up out of our disused railway track to see where we were we discovered that the whole area was swarming with police, very dressed up women and men in suits. AINTREE! ‘Hold me bike will you?’ I asked Pete, ‘Won’t be a minute’. I nipped over the fence and headed for Legs Larry Lawson (turf accountant). ‘I’ll put everything I have (£3.25) on no.5 Lucky Sprout’ – I was pleased with the odds he quoted – 250-1. Would you believe it! Came romping home beating the odds on favourite by a short little toe. Buoyed by my success I I put the lot on the next race this time playing it a bit safer – 66-1 shot, Flat Battery. Incredible – another result! By this time I’d won roughly the equivalent of Greece’s GNP. Legs, feeling rather demoralised told me he couldn’t take any more hits and told me to get on my bike. Which I did. The next bit of cycle path took us along a canal and unfortunately whilst changing batteries I lost my balance and my bag with all the dosh fell into the drink. Ah well, easy come easy go.
I guarantee this is a true story and not just a ruse to boost our blog’s decreasing hit rate.