It's been nine hours since starting out this morning. I've had my fill of the crashing waves hitting Tynemouth beach and the black dots amongst them who my passengers mistakenly thought were seals, because no human in their right mind would be in the freezing North Sea.
But they were the crazy surfers. Much admired by my passengers, the equally crazy lycra clad Scottish cyclists who had decided to cycle from one end of Hadrian's Wall to the other in a day - a total of 102 miles.
I'd been following them in a bus, in case anyone couldn't go on any further or wanted a rest. But none of them did. Quite an achievement. Equally admirable was that many of them had quietly raised several thousands of pounds for various charities.
It could not be described as onerous work for a bus driver. Yet waiting around can be tiring. It is the inability to relax as the phone might ring at any time requesting the bus to move to a location.
But now there is hope. It is after 10pm. They will be back at their campsite by Midnight and I will be home by 2.30am. The bus has taken on a multicultural air. The ravenous cyclists are devouring a mixture of chop suey, shish kebabs, fish and chips, burgers and deep fried chicken.
My dinner? It's waiting for me, but I suspect I'll be having it for breakfast.
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