I had been on the road for no more than 2 to 3 months, and already winter was fully upon me.. I felt like I was turning into one solid block of ice.

Before any hint of darkness, I'd throw up my little tent in any suitable copse of trees that happened to fall on my path. - Often the ground would be too hard to peg the tent down, so I had to rely on my own weight to stop it from being blown away, and sometimes, I'd awaken to a blanket of snow resting on the tent top..

I'd sleep curled up in a ball, fully clothed, wearing all my dryish socks, and with the rest of my clothing thrown onto my sleeping bag.. This functioned, kind-of, until I rolled over once too often, and lost all my makeshift blankets.. Thank the Divine for thermal underwear!!

Anyhows, one particular morning I awoke feeling particularly miserable, numb and wondering what kind of particular insanity I might be inflicted with, that would cause me to be doing this, when it seemed decent folks were indoors, in front of big fires, or central heating with double glazing, and cosy coloured TV sets..

Resigned to my chosen path, I'd often humm along the theme tune from the Indiana Jones movies, you know the one "Da da da da, da da da!".. Surprisingly it would always give me that little extra needed boost.

Well, I packed away my tent, stamped my feet, clapped my hands, and got back on my trusty little push bike.. I was in France at the time.. must have been mid-December, as I do recall the many Christmas lights that were hung around places.

On this particular morning, I thought to myself, "Well, it can't possibly get any worse.".. It was a strange phrase, - Even then I knew something wasn't quite right about it.

I biked onward, with no particular destination in mind.. South was the general idea, but I was a little late to be racing the winter. After an hour or so, just when I'd started to defrost, the weather changed.. a cooler wind picked up doing weird things to my icicled beard, and suddenly, the black ominous cloud above me, broke open with a vicious sleet rain that felt like razor blades on my cheeks.. "Well.. It can't possibly get any worse now!".

But just after those thoughts had entered my little head, the previous gentle (an after thought) wind, transmuted itself into a full on head wind, making progress so slow as to appear almost comical (another after thought).. "Well now it can't possibly get any worse!", I thought once more to myself..

But I lifted my head against that wind, and what fool thing should the road before me be doing? A sharp bend... Upwards! On I pushed, "This is it this time.. Gotta be the worst!" I said to myself with increasingly uncertain conviction..

And what should happen? The next thing I know, suddenly some little French farm doggy manifests itself beside me, yapping furiously, and eyeing my ankles suspiciously.. "Groan".. "Can it get any worse?" .. Miraculously, with the help of the Indiana Jones music hummed to a beat of insanity, I managed to move through this current scene as if in a dream..

Just before reaching the crest of the hill however, above the gale of the wind, and the crackle of the icicles in my beard, I heard a none too unfamiliar "twang", followed closely by 2 more all too similar twangs.. 3 broken spokes!! All on the back wheel, freewheel side of course, - too much weight being carried due to the hmm.. dampness..

I tumbled off of my bike, unable to maintain functional steering control.. Dragged my bike cussing and swearing over to a little wall, where I promptly collapsed in a pathetic bedraggled heap..

Once I'd gotten my breath back, I numbly searched around in a pannier, and managed to pull out an apple. I bit into it, and out of the corner of my eye, something small moved blurrily furrily into my vision..

I looked down, it was a tiny mouse, wet and shivering.. I cried.. I looked at it and said, "God, little mouse.. Look at you! You look just like me!".

I broke off a piece of my apple, and held it pressed against my middle finger by my thumb, and offered it to the little mouse fellow.. It didn't hesitate.. He lifted himself up with his little fore pores onto my index finger, and started nibbling hungrily away.. I stroked it's back with my free hand, and spoke soothing words to it.. It was really like speaking to myself.. My encouraging words to it, encouraged me too, - They came straight back.

I've heard somewhere that all you need is for one person to have faith in you, and you can move mountains.. That mouse had faith in me, and damned if a little blustery wind was going to stop my pilgrimage..

I was able to continue my journey with great inner warmth..