We assembled on Kennington Park an hour late for the big picnic. But that was OK because Ollie was even later, and he had a team of mechanics in the form of his friends and family to fine tune the bike and make tutting noises at the state of preparations so far.
A beautiful day had descended on the People's Republic of South London for this event as Ollie circled the group whilst nervously shedding posessions across the grass. The enormity of what was about to happen had, I think, dawned on both Ollie and the rest of us.
It only took a few posh olives and a couple of glasses of wine before the 11th hour dash home for bananas and scissors and an emotional farewell. But needn't worry, it's going to be easy. I mean, look at the confidence in his face. Look Ollie, just past Brixton Road, that's the land they call Australia...
And that was it, he left. And he was just going to keep going and going. The man didn't even have a map. But he had a bicycle. He had his panniers stuffed with Drum. And he hates airports. I think it's fair to say that we were all incredibly proud of Ollie as he wobbled out of the park to embark on what will undoubtably be an incredible adventure for a fantastically worthy cause.
GOOD LUCK OLLIE!!
