I cook up some porridge I'd bought in Iceland and had been in my food bag ever since. Havregryn is the word on the paper-bag of oats. It tastes good on it's own without anything added, not that I've anything else to add. Though I have plenty of Earl Grey, so make tea.

I make it out along the woodland track to the road shortly after seven thirty. The morning is dull and rain-like. And the steady flow of passing cars and trucks have their headlights on full-beam, giving the day even more that look of twilight gloom.

By eight o'clock I see a Tescos on the right on the way into Sarbogard. I won't be hungry today. I use the tongs to fill a bag with bread rolls and another with two jam pastries. I take a plastic-plact of salami and a bottle of Sprite. The woman on the check-out with Timi on her name-plate asks something. I nod, not knowing what to reply. She says something else and leaves it. It's probably have I a Tescos' card.

About ten kilometres beyond Sarbogard I come to a road-junction where I turn right onto road 61, which I hope would've less truck traffic, as Is feeling vulnerable in the dim low-light. I have a yellow hi-vis vest stretched over the bag on the rear-rack which I suppose makes me seen. But, I soon find road 61 has as much trucks as 63, the road I've left.

My right knee has begun hurting today too. It isn't helped by the hilly terrain. The road is rolling up and down, though it seems I'm constantly climbing. I cannot put my full weight on the right leg while pedalling uphill with the stabbing sensation in the knee.

I pass a sign with Pecs 76 km. It will take me all my time to make it before nightfall. I don't know why putting the clock back an hour is called daylight saving; how can it be, when it's getting dark not long after lunch-time as a result of the lost hour in the afternoon.

In case I don't make it, I think I'll need water in order to camp. On the way out of another town I see a Lidl on the left. I don't really want to waste any time stopping but, at the same time it won't take long to buy water.

Locking the bike outside the supermarket, it's good to have the right foot on the ground where I no longer feel any pain in the knee. Inside I take the cheapest bottle of mineral water. I'll also be needing something to eat if I camp, so take a pack of instant vegetable soup.

When I return back out to the bike locked by the trolley bay, the tarmac is damp and it's drizzling rain.

It must've been raining fairly heavily ahead, as the road is puddled and the rutted depressions left by truck-wheels are water-filled channels. The trucks pull well out to pass and spray spirals off their wheels just missing me. Tractors have taken soil from the field on their wheels and left a mucky sheen of crap in their wake in places which sprays up over the bike's new chain.

The rain eases and the cloud thins and it brightens somewhat and there's a cycle-path onwards from the town of Dombovar. It's only thirty-five kilometres more and it's still only half one. Not only is there a cycle-path, there's a rain-shelter where I stop for a quick lunch. It's five to two when I get going again. Still over two hours until it begins getting dark.

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The cycle-path continues to the next town and continues a short bit the other side, then ends abruptly. Worse still was the barrage of hills ahead. I dropped down and pass through a village, the road climbing merciless upwards the other side. Then just as I think that is the last, I pass a sign with a black wedge and 12%. Round the next bend, I could see the road continue uphill for a long way ahead. My knee is hurting terribly.

It has gone three thirty and it's raining lightly again. There is still fifteen kilometres to the city according to the kilometre-board at the side. I am going to be stuck riding into the city as it's getting dark; and then, I'll have to look for a place to stay. There's no shortage of woodland to the side, so I decide to camp.

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