May your road rise up to meet you,
and the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm on your face,
and the rain fall soft upon your tent;
And until we meet again may your god of cyclists
hold you in the hollow of her hand.
It's to be found on every second Irish Linen tea towel, the others having logos of a black toucan or a golden harp.
A second verse could add to this wish list. To include: no stop lines, no semis, no rumble strip and no rush hour, and if I'm really pushing the patience of our guardian, could I include: where gradients are gentle and the camping is free. Now that I've stretched the credulity of any omnipotent deity, I've also placed this desired world away from the Emerald Isle and set it on to planet 'Fantastical Arcadia'. Oddly though, this surrealist world does seem to exist, even in this over-hectic land. It's called the Natchez Trace.