The newly-completed circuit at Fowlmead may have an unattractive-sounding name but it is a fantastic facility. The road circuit looks great and the ‘cross course was simply the best I have ridden all season. The amount of rain that has fallen over the last couple of weeks would have resulted in most courses being a sticky mess but this one coped admirably, the sections of mud being short and sweet.

The opening section took us over mini slag-heaps fashioned into BMX jumps (Fowlmead is a former colliery) then through the woods for a combination of fast gravel paths and muddy tracks. One steep rise at the mid-way point was ridable for the first couple of laps, after which a combination of sticky mud and tiring legs made it a run-up.

Turning into a howling headwind made the last stretch of the course a painful experience, combined with a nasty rise to the finish line, before starting it all over again.

I won’t bore you with too many details of the race. Mrs C questioned my reasoning in taking two bikes to a race, but as I punctured halfway through the race and rode on a flat rear tyre (God bless tubulars!), I felt vindicated as the spare machine came into use.

My weekly battle with Phillip Glowinski looked to be lost, but a hard lap saw me regain his wheel, before he hammered away on the last time up the hill to take 10th.

That’s 11th place and, more importantly, first veteran. Congratulations to Mr Seaton for winning the vets category overall and a Mosquito one-two is looking good come the end of the season. That’ll keep the sponsors happy for a week or two…

Hot showers, good cake and fine coffee rounded off a top day out by the seaside.

I’m sick. Actually, I’m sick of being sick. Catching a cold on Christmas Eve was a nuisance, but when you are hacking and wheezing two weeks later, it is a complete pain in the assos.

Succumbing to a virus is an occupational hazard when you are racing and training through the winter. It is rare to get through an entire ‘cross season bug-free, but a few days of loafing around the house will usually see it off. This is an altogether stronger strain of lurgy which refuses to leave the building, passing round from one family member to the next. There is now a black cross on the front door to keep visitors away. If the Novovirus gets in here, it could finish us off.

Missing three races over the past couple of weeks was particularly galling. Fettling the bikes and watching races on the Mac (courtesy of the excellent Nathan Spear) doesn’t give you the same kick as an hour of hurtling round a muddy field.

Enough moaning. Summoning all the powers of mind-over-matter at my disposal, I shall be back for next weekend’s league race and firing on all cylinders. Or a couple of them, at least…