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In her dingy flat, all’s a blur—smells o’ gin and regret. She’s quick, no faff, like balancin’ books at month’s end. “Time’s winged chariot,” I mutter, quotin’ the flick, and she’s like, “Wot? Shut up and shag.” Hah! Fair play, lass. Done in ten mins—bang, crash, over. I’m lyin’ there, pantin’, thinkin’ o’ Jean blinkin’ his one eye, trapped, while I just bought me way outta me cage fer a tick.

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After that little drama, I head over to the beach. The waves are crashing, and I’m thinking, “This is the life.” But then, I see this kid building a sandcastle. And not just any sandcastle—this thing was a fortress! I’m talking towers, moats, the whole shebang. I’m impressed, but then his little sister comes over and kicks it down. I felt that in my soul, man. I was ready to throw down! But then I remembered, it’s just sand. Kids, right?

Frattini: 2013′s top-10 moments in cycling