I ride into the centre of Copenhagen at about one in the morning. It’s the summer of 96. I manage to find the street my friends live on. Norbrogade. It’s a surprise visit.

There’s scaffolding and sheets of plastic covering one of the old apartment blocks that line the street. I bet that’s their place. It is. Bollocks. I park the bike and enter a bar. A few blokes scattered around. Drinking. On the jukebox ‘Alice? Alice? Who the fuck is Alice?’ Wonderful, wonderful, Copenhagen eh? It’s a proper drinkers’ pub. Basic.

I ask the barmaid if the building’s occupants will have moved out. Oh yes. For a few months whilst the place is renovated. I go out to a nearby phonebox and call their number. Answerphone message. In Danish. I go back in and ask her if she could call the number and tell me what the message says. She obliges. We can’t get to the phone right now so leave a message. Of course.

There is a free city map on the bar and it shows the location of hostels. She starts to show me it then introduces me to a new arrival, her brother. His English is much better than hers. He will help me. She says in perfect English.

He has been to the fish market to get fish for their father. He starts to show me where the hostels are on the map. I ask him if he minds if we sit down. I’m knackered. We sit.

I explain that I have ridden from Poland. Over a thousand kilometres. Wow! Why did you travel so far in one day? Well I was going to stop in Germany but got pissed off with the place [in the process of trying to make a phone call] so decided I was just going to push on to Denmark. He laughs. Oh this is a story you can tell to any Dane about the big brother to the south and they will enjoy it!

He asks me about my travels. I tell him about heading off three weeks ago from Leeds to go to a conference in Helsinki. Via Denmark, Oslo and the Western Fjords of Norway up to Trondheim then across to Sundsvall in Sweden before riding down to catch the ferry in Stockholm. How after the conference I had headed into Finland before crossing to Estonia then riding down through Latvia and Lithuania before crossing Poland and, today, Germany. A tour of the Baltic. We laugh while we talk. He susses me out. Weighs me up.

He folds up the map. Forget a hostel. You will stay with me and my girlfriend. We live 20 metres from here. Are you sure?! Yes.

I give him a few minutes to go up and clear this with her… They pull a small mattress out into the hallway of their tiny flat. Before I collapse onto it we sit up till four chatting and polishing off my Polish vodka to a soundtrack of Pink Floyd.

The next day he is working but his girlfriend gives me a bicycle tour of the city. I have left a message with my friends to ring the flat but no word yet. That evening my hosts apologise to me for not being able to invite me to their friend’s birthday party as it will be a sit-down meal. No problem. I will enjoy just watching telly after nearly a month on the road. They go out. I wash up, watch a bit of telly then crash on my mattress. I am awoken by their jubilant, drunken voices in the early hours. John!! You are here!! Our friends told us we were mad. That when we came home you would be gone and so would our television! But we said no. We think he will be there and he may even have done the washing up. And you are here! And you have done the washing up!!

I stay with them for five nights before my friends finally get in touch and invite me to stay. Lovely people. People are lovely.