I have decided that I love cyclists.
They have been utterly brilliant to us over the past few days.
To start with, both groups we've entertained recently came in to tell me days in advance that they would be coming.
And when they did turn up they ate. And ate. And ate. Because they can.
On Sunday one man had a Coke, a slice of banana, maple and pecan loaf and THREE pieces of millionaire's shortbread. There wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on him.
The next man had two scones with jam and cream and asked if I had any WD40 as he only had two gears. Whatever that meant. For some odd reason I do have a can of the stuff and got a big smile when I produced it.
Today fourteen cyclists arrived, filled the conservatory with Lycra and ate lunches which seemed mainly to involve tuna.
To those who've cycled down that bumpy path to fill up on tea and cake in this wet drought, I salute you.