Smothered by a particularly aggressive quilt and held in an unbreakable headlock by his pillow, The Wattmeister resisted the temptation to yield to the comforts of his bed, which incidentally is constructed of high modulous Torayca T1100 carbon (marginal gains), and stubbornly performed 3 sets x 15 reps of imaginary press-ups to get the blood flowing and tone that upper body.
Physically and mentally galvanised, he briefly thought back to the previous evening, and the sommelier in Cote Brasserie Muswell Hill who had mistaken him for Phil Anderson, the great Australian cyclist who was the first non-European to wear the yellow jersey of the Tour de France back in 1981.
It took a signed autograph of The Wattmeister’s Paris-Brest-Paris jersey (which he always wears at Cote) and the purchase of two rather expensive bottles of Burgundy before the sommelier would accept that TW was who he said he was.
As it happens, The Wattmeister and Phil are of almost the same vintage, but common opinion suggests that The Wattmeister has aged better since their time in the pro peloton.
1985 was an annus mirabilis for both riders, Phil being victorious in The Tour of Catalunya, Tour of Mediterranean, Dauphine Liberé and the Tour of Switzerland, while The Wattmeister was equally productive, procuring the climber’s jersey in the Tour of Wanstead Flats, the points jersey in the Tour of Lundy, and an outright win in the Llanwrtyd Wells Nocturne which is traditionally held on the eve of the world bog-snorkelling championships.
Thirty years have passed since those heady days, but The Wattmeister is still hungry for success. And speaking of hunger, he adheres to the same strict diet as he did when he was attacking on Mont Ventoux, breaking away in the Fleche Wallone or clattering over the cobbles in Paris-Roubaix……yes, you can’t beat a Full English Breakfast.