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Tired As A Tired Thing

 

MGM is snug in his hotel bed in Hamilton, Ontario. It was a long day, a long night, sitting in Gatwick airport and then a long flight in a cramped seat. He arrived at Pearson International airport, Toronto, had a 70km trip to Hamilton, checked in the Super 8, got online, went to the bar next door, had a whiskey, came back to the room for a soak in the bath and – whoosh – he has disappeared from Skype. Never even said ‘goodnight, you poor left-behind one’

I guess he kind of passed out, poor thing.

I’ve left him a message to make sure he takes some photos of the bike tomorrow.

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