Look at the size of that bloody hill!

Five posts in a year. I think we can all agree that's a bit crap. Sorry, what can I say?

Once again, I blame the pressures of starting a business in the middle of the worst recession since the 1940's (we're doing very well, thanks for asking), raising a large family and just general - stuff. Plus, by the time I've spent all day updating Twitter, Facebook and the company blog, there's surprisingly little room left for making snarky comments about pro riders' shorts.

And everyone's at it now. Cycling, I mean. When I started, cyclists were the two wheeled equivalent of plane-spotters and traction engine enthusiasts - not positively harmful but to be viewed with healthy suspicion. Last weekend, I took my youngest to cricket practice and all the Dads were huddled together discussing the relative merits of Ultegra and Chorus. One of them has even started a new bike-related brand as a....no, I'd better not go there, he may be reading this.

And not just one, but two, cycling related cafes have opened within half-a-mile of our office. The Rapha Cafe is evil. It tempts me away from work with decent coffee and big screen bike racing (in the 'eighties I rode for a London Italian club and we used to go to the Bar Italia at Giro time and try to convince the guys behind the bar to turn the TV over to the RAI coverage). But it also tempts me to spend money I haven't got. Not entirely its fault, I agree - when I developed a painful neck and back recently, my remedy was to buy a Rapha backpack. A course of physiotherapy may have been cheaper and more effective.

So why am I rambling again? Well, I promised I'd tell you about the Stelvio - and I will. This September, I will be riding from Venice to Milan in three days - over the Dolomites and the frankly terrifying Stelvio Pass. It's to raise money for a cause that I care deeply about - the Geoff Thomas Foundation, now part of Leukemia and Lymphoma Research.

We're doing it in memory of Steve Mead - who was supposed to come with us last year from London to Paris but, tragically, died from his own leukaemia before the ride.

Please feel free to donate money here. I may even write some stuff about my half-hearted training, and take some pictures. Arriverderci....

Back to nearly normal

The rigorous dieting and training regime I promised myself has not quite gone to plan. I've given up alcohol - apart from an occasional glass of wine at the weekend, but my riding has been compromised by a combination of a bad chest cold and the worst weather in the UK for thirty years. Following the freezing cold day with Sky, the heavens opened and dumped feet of snow right across London and Southern England.

The Surrey Hills were a white wasteland and half of Richmond Park was closed off because it was little more than rutted ice. A few half-hearted attempts at the turbo were all I managed.

So this morning was eagerly anticipated. Clear blue sky, no snow or ice, my chest no longer sounding as though I smoked 40 a day - out to the park on the fixed gear. Along with every other cyclist in the southern half of the UK. At least that's what it seemed like.

After a couple of laps, we passed a young woman pushing her bike and, naturally, asked her what the problem was. It turned out that she'd forgotten her tyre levers, so I lent her mine on the understanding that she'd leave them behind the till at the cafe.

She said that dozens of cyclists had passed her while she was pushing the bike, but we were the first to stop and offer help. Not very chivalrous, but the old ways of the road seem to be disappearing.

Still, I'm back on the bike, so that's a start.

And why the picture of the Stelvio? Another story, which will have to wait.

Cold Sky

Well, we went. 0730 this morning, the secret text arrived - meet up at the Guildhall in the City of London. I'd already discovered (don't ask how, I'd have to kill you if you knew) that the actual team launch was going to be near the Mall, so that meant a 40 minute ride to the City, followed by half an hour back into the West End. On the coldest day of the decade. I know that's not saying much, but it was.....bloody cold this morning.

My son and I rolled up at the Guildhall, frozen to the bone, to find a huddle of cyclists of all shapes and sizes - from wannabe pros to old ladies on shopping bikes - standing round a collection of team cars. A cut above the usual Skodas as well - sleek grey Jaguars. I know that Jags are basically Fords these days but still, they look smart.

And so does the Sky team kit - black, white and blue Adidas, matching the gorgeous team Pinarellos.

Not much else to report, we rode through a bemused first-day-back-at-work London - led by Russell Downing and Edvald Boasson Hagen (who coped very well with the usual mix of idiot pedestrians, big red buses and psycho van drivers) and rolled onto the Mall, where we met up with the other two rides. Bradley had led people in from the London Eye.

Three laps round St James' Park with the pro riders at the front before we peeled off to get our stylish Sky musettes and the riders got on with the real business of launching a team.

Good day, one that my son (pictured above failing to listen to Tomas Lovkvist extolling the virtues of Shimano electric shifters) and I will remember for a long time.

And good on Team Sky, for at least making the effort to reach out to ordinary bike riders.

Plotting

Here's the deal. Team Sky announce a competition - if you're available for a ride Monday morning, sign up. If you're picked, then you get to ride with the team for an hour or so. I'm not free, really - I'm supposed to be working, and neither is my son, he's supposed to be at school. But we both entered.

Guess what? He got picked, and I didn't. Now, that's not going to work. I may have to sneak in somehow. Hope they don't notice. And before you say anything, I know that's not Team Sky in the picture, it's the Sky+HD track team. But how hot does Victoria look?