The locals took no mercy, the weather delivered its promise and I took directions from Team China. It was a wild and crazy day, and I'm relieved and suitably fatigued enough to say "Gutbaaye Drenthe - thanks for the memories."

There was no starting indoors this time, just half an hour of standing in the 7 degree heat in the town square while the Queen of Drenthe and her husband (a Phil the Greek equivalent) were honoured for their 45 year wedding anniversary. Then we rolled off the start with a bit more 'neutral' clamouring for positioning, and you could almost hear riders' engines revving as the official starter waved his flag vigorously from the commissaire's sports car - it was quite a Grace Kelly moment.

The roads were open and the wind and rain were in full force, but in final race day style, only one cobbled section, so at least the misery wouldn't go on forever. I would like to tell you what it was like to climb the VAM-berg 5 times in the freezing cold, but alas, I didn't make it that far. The change of pace smashed any remaining strength in my legs, too bloody tired from all the domestique work yesterday. Louise and I fought like the lads in the trenches, but it was just as futile and just as soul destroying. Finally, when we couldn't hold even the rear wheels of the convoy, as a sad and sorry bunch of 10, we made our way the short way round to the finish.

Of course, once you're off race roads, you follow signs like any other bunch ride - except that our National and pro team clothing, with race numbers on the back and an inability to talk each other's languages, kinda gave us away as a not so ordinary bunch. The local Dutchie was no good in the sense of direction department, but then, who knew - two Team Giant China riders were way better than any Tom Tom! They were saying "left here'"and "right there" as we weaved our way around the bike paths of Midden Drenthe. Little did we know they were leading us right to their hotel, and then pulled off with a cheery "bye bye" once they arrived at the Chinoise International. Still, we got to the finish, in time to bring our core temperatures down a notch or two while we waited for our soigneur to arrive with our team van, food and dry clothing. The wind chill was enough to make the COLD showers seem luke warm and the two of our riders (Spratty and Vicki, who had her 4th crash in as many races) who got to the finish line were muddy enough to utilise the facilities.

We didn't care that the post race food was the same, but this time it was accompanied by a traditional Dutch brass band with two accordions. All band members were over 65 and each wore a bowler hat. I felt like I was in a deleted scene of A Clockwork Orange, and it was strangely unsettling. 'Amazing Grace' played in 6/8 time does not aid the digestion of sweet and sour unspecified meat, I can assure you.

Tomorrow morning, we'll crank up the heavily packed VW Transit and the race car, load up with 5 riders, our magnificent soignie Christine, the enigmatic mechanic Nico and Wazza - coach, manager, and big daddy all rolled into one, and make the epic trip south through Belgium, Germany and Switzerland to get back to Varese by early evening. Any time I get sick of sitting in a car for 12h, I'll just imagine myself fighting for a wheel in a cross wind on a cobbled forest road. It's calling on the PONeMaR Scale (the Paul O'Donnell Nelson Mandela Relativity Scale) to full effect: you think you're suffering, and then my Da reminds me that Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in gaol. That one trumps every time. 'Cept I BET he never rode the Three Days of Drenthe as a 33 yo neo-pro. Ha! Take that, Nelson. Probably had hot showers in prison too.

Ciao

Bridie