I’m huddled against a lock bridge, trying to pump up BF1’s flat tyre with horizontal rain driving tin tacks into my face …

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Neither of us can believe this has happened. This is the second consecutive time she has punctured when riding with me so she tells me I’m jinxed! Not the most reassuring of statements considering this is my first official training run for the London to Brighton bike ride in June. At least this time she has a pump … I think.

Having even less idea on how to mend a bike puncture than me, she’s just handed me something that looks like a large marker pen. It has a choice of two little holes for attaching to the valve and a clip for keeping it in place. Neither of us knows which of the holes to use so of course I make a wild guess and get it completely wrong! There is a loud hiss as the remaining air escapes.

I could be wrong, but BF1 doesn’t greet this with the same sense of dismay I feel. As she beats a hasty retreat to the shelter of a bridge to summon help from her other half, I swear I caught a look of relief in her eye!

I meanwhile, am duty bound to complete my 25 mile target. Hubby has allowed me to use his sports nav which tells me I’ve exactly another 17.35621 miles to go! Hmmm …