Diaries of the Night King — Roadbook of Cycling

Yes, the rumours are true. I am the Night King.

Life hasn’t been the same since Arya Stark stabbed me in the eye with dragonglass and sent me to Hell.

I share the afterlife with all the villains, anti-heroes and degenerates of Westeros. Hodor is the only one that made it to Heaven.

Hell is a dry, desolate, ashen wasteland of volcanic rock. The Yunkai and Dornish seem pretty content, but it’s unbearable for the cold-blooded. The climate and landscape are similar to Lanzarote.

Winter is coming, but until my reincarnation, I’m stuck here… so I’ve hired a bike to keep me sane (yes, white walkers can have hobbies too).

The handlebars are too wide, cranks are too long, stem too short, the chain won’t stay on the rings and the bar-tape looks like it was wrapped by the left hand of Sir Jamie Lannister.

King Eddy ‘the Cannibal’ Merckx - Lord of Skagos, conqueror of the Tour de France, Giro d’Italia, etc, etc, first of his name, etc, etc... once said -

“Don’t buy upgrades, ride up grades.”

So, I always do the best I can with what I have.

In Hell, the air is hotter than Drogon’s breath...

Luckily I packed CHPT3’s Forbocci jersey and the POC Ventral Air Spin helmet to help keep me cool. (I recommend to fellow white walkers, wildlings and north folk - should they find themselves in warmer climates).

In other news, Queen Cersei and I met for dinner. We spoke about ‘the good old days’ when she ruled the Seven Kingdoms and I had an army of the dead at my command.

Cersei found a great Italian restaurant called Ninen, it’s a little taste of heaven. The ‘Spaghetti Allo Scoglio’ is possibly the best dish I have ever eaten. The food, service, passion, teamwork, ingredients and sea views are better than anything I’ve experienced in Westeros or Essos.

I’m surrounded by pizza, pasta, paella and gelato. My midriff used to resemble an ice cube tray - cold, firm and in two neat columns of three. Now, my stomach looks more like King Robert Baratheon’s -