Tom

Today didn't start too well - head still spinning, and probably still drunk (how!?) I made my second visit to the bowl of destiny before anyone else was even awake. By the time the rest of the house found its feet, Kate and I were propped up on the sofa watching some strange sunday morning TV with the worse guests ever.

Tom's mum took pity and made us amazing coffee, and brought us orange juice, which roused enough energy to make it into the kitchen.

For some reason I was given the duty to make pancakes, and I tried my best, but the result in my hungover state was a half-cooked pancake making it back into the batter mix. Tom's sister took over and I sat back down to look into the middle distance and wonder quite how I'd ended up lying on the floor eating a tablespoon of cinnamon last night.

It has to be said that pancakes make some of the best hangover cures that you can imagine - and these were some of the best pancakes imaginable. Thin american-style bacon, grated cheddar cheese, finely cut raw red onion, and maple syrup. Perhaps it doesn't sound as good as it tasted, but they were great!

Got a lift back to Kate's house, were I'd left my motorbike overnight, and rode 2 minutes to Charlie's house for a coffee, then on to Dad's house to see how the build was getting on. Ended up helping him to lift a huge slab of stone up a flight of stairs while listening to the Wimbledon final on the radio

My hangover was calling me home to the comfort of my own home, and I lay out in the intermittent sunshine, determined to make the most of this summer. It soon got too cold and I had to watch the rest of the Murray game inside with a jumper on.

I miss last summer, endless days of amazing warmth with the cycling and swimming in rivers that join it.