BOOK signing events are wonderful things!

Over the past few weeks, I've been travelling around the country, wedged in tightly between book cases and plonked in front of tills and bulky shoplifting barriers, sat at a table covered in a black cloth, with a couple of pens and a pile of books on top.

Glitzy destinations like Bristol, Dorking, Lowestoft, Southend and Basildon (no, not the last one!) have brought me face-to-face with the people who have already parted with cash for my book, or have taken pity on the Worzel Gummidge look-a-like sitting in the corner and snapped up a copy anyway.

Nobody has thrown a book back in my face yet -  which is good - but there's still plenty of time!

And so far it has been a wonderful experience. Chatting away with people about the joys of cycling, travel and charity work, or just sharing long conversations with old ladies who have become disgruntled by the one-way system in Bath.

They don't want to buy a book, these old girls - they just want a chin-wag, and that's fine by me!

But I have met some great characters and heard some amazing stories sitting at my little table, indulging in my favourite past time - people watching.

The Basildon store was very odd, with strange shaped people, in mostly large sizes, lumbering through the door sweating and making grunting noises, with all sorts of crispy skin afflictions. I think some even had horns! It was like having a beer stool at the Mos Eisley Cantina Bar in Star Wars.

They certainly didn't look like avid readers (having one arm longer than the other, scrapping along the floor, probably doesn't help when trying to hold a book upright), but I apparently out sold Gordon Ramsay that weekend, so maybe they didn't eat or swear a lot either!

But it's the random stories which have made me smile the most. I met a guy in Bristol called Chris, who was a massive inspiration. An infectious sort of chap, he told me he had been given three months to live after being diagnosed with cancer. But he is still here with us, 10 years on, and hoping to write his own book soon, as well as signing me up as a crewman for a Trans-Atlantic yachting trip.

Well, he did run the London Marathon this year, with just one lung, so anything is possible for this for this remarkable man. Watch this space!

A long haired guy asked me to write a message for his partner, whose injured foot was full of surgically inserted pins, promising her she would be back on a tandem with him soon. I also warned her to steer clear of hungry magnets.

He was planning to follow some of the Tour de France circuit this summer, pedalling along the world's longest cycle race route with a copy of my book jammed in between his handlebars. I told him I was jealous and would love to join him for a spot of cycling, cheese eating and wine sinking.

But he can't drink wine. He came off his bike a few years ago and put a pair of handlebars through his stomach. Ouch! And lost one of his kidneys in the process. But he got straight back in the saddle and you've got to respect that dedication to your two wheeled religion

With more Cycling Back to Happiness signing events coming up over the next few weeks, in Watford, Beccles, Hastings and Ludgate Circus (Fleet Street), London, I'm sure I will hear some more ripping yarns. I can't wait and hope to hear some of your stories soon!

* I FELT like I was in travel heaven recently. I was asked to go to Stanford's, in Covent Garden, to sign copies of Cycling Back to Happiness.

Yes, I did say Stanford's, the most famous travel shop in the UK, and, who knows, maybe even the world?

This is the sacred spot where the Godfathers of travel writing, Bill Bryson and Michael Palin, hold their book signing courts. And now I'm in there too, with my six-year-old handwriting squiggled across the author's page, above my cheesy grin, with a signed author sticker on the front, like I'm a somebody or something.

It doesn't get any better than that! OK, it does. Stanford's displayed the book at the front of shop, not just lost in their labyrinth of adventure shelves, sinking somewhere between Chad and Damascus, but in a prominent place where people can see me.

Oh yeah, and the girl working in the shop recognised me before I even had chance to introduce myself as the nobody with the well chewed biro here to sign books.

Apparently, she recognised my glowing bush of highlighted hair from my picture on the front cover of Cycling Back to Happiness. I was gobsmacked and smiling from ear-to-ear. I even had a little sex wee!