What, you mean it's actually happening?

What happens when a four-pints-down pub idea becomes a knee-knocking reality? Over the years, I'm pretty glad that I haven't invested my time and energy into the washing-up WondaGlove (TM - but you're welcome to it) with scourers attached to the fingers for the bottoms of those difficult pint glasses. And I'm pretty sure that my (mooted) chain of high-street shops allowing customers to make their own sausages would have been (sorry) stuffed by now.

But this one was slightly different. In truth, the idea of persuading a group of people (complete strangers, as it's turned out) to cycle the length of the country and summon up the energy after a long day in the saddle to play gigs to (rapturously grateful) audiences has its roots in some fairly alcohol-free notions - although a few pints have definitely helped to grease the wheels in the past months. I've always wanted to get out and really explore the country more, and the idea of a Land's End to John o'Groats bike ride has been tantalising me for the past year or two. Green fields, tasty little country pubs and buxom beauties with milk pails and pigtails swinging on rickety gates... That sort of thing. (The last one does really happen, doesn't it? Someone told me.)

Also, last year, my uncle - who'd been doing some work with Cancer Research - persuaded me to go out with him on to the streets of Horsham and London to play a few tunes and raise a bit of money for a CR off-shoot, Busking Cancer. The two things met in my head, shook hands, and well, here we flipping-well are...

So, with 5 months to go, plenty of stuff done, and plenty left still to do. Travelling band? Check. Ten hardy, fearless souls with the legs for the journey (as in, they've got legs) and a dizzying array of musical talent. Route? Mapped out. Accommodation? Booked (well, pretty much almost). The bikes have been bought, the training has begun in earnest, and the songs are starting to sound pretty darned smashing.

That just leaves organising the gigs (underway), sorting out a van and drivers, pulling in a load of other musicians to turn up each night and pitch in with a few songs, and myriad other bits and pieces. But we'll get there. And hopefully raise a pot load of money for Busking Cancer in the process.

So to your bikes, ladies and gentlemen, and to your banjos, basses and kazoos. Let's make some beautiful music together.