15 of us lurked about near the New Green Centre in Thurston - the car park was locked (presumably a Seasonal Issue) so those in cars were parked provocatively - but not a problem of our making. After so much ice following quite a bit of snow, we were pathetically grateful for the single-figure positive temperature and thick mist. Personally, I'd have been content with driving rain and half a gale after a month off the bike. Peter was in charge, and had emailed the hard core the day before to warn us that the ride would be at a moderate to modest pace because (a) Peter has had back and chest problems in December, and isn't feeling quite the thing, and (b) because he apparently accosted a young runner called Mary Narey recently and persuaded her to come and join us on her bicycle for her first ever ride with a group. Turning into quite the Derbyshire Don Giovanni is our Pete. One to watch. I say no more. Another to watch will be Mary elle meme who kept up well in trainers and toeclips, and will be a very handy climber pretty soon (though tall, Mary doesn't look as if she has problems fighting gravity)

We kept to fairly main roads to avoid possible remains of ice, but as far as the standard of driving we witnessed it was turkey season. At least three vehicles, at various times, charged into the gloom to pass all of us, only to meet another vehicle coming the other way - both cars coming to a halt (luckily)on each occasion. One Turkey managed this twice - the second time the small truck approaching him broke with convention, and didn't stop, so it was a very near miss indeed. Many cars passed while going round blind bends. We saw far too many displaying no lights - including a dark blue saloon with blue light on the roof! On our return journey we took to larger lanes rather than smaller main roads, and the first car we met immediately pulled to the side of the road and stopped for us to go through. There's a lesson here, maybe.

We experienced the Dawn of the age of the puncture, as the poor girl suffered two within half an hour. Her bike had been serviced by Nathan (he delivered it to New Green - what service) and the first punctured tube was replaced by Richard Farrow. I'm not making any sort of a point here, except perhaps that Dawn is innocent. Anyway, the second replacement tube survived the remainder of the ride. And was fitted by RF. Why am I writing this rubbish?

We rode through Lavenham and on (eventually) through Monks Eleigh to tackle the climb followed by false flat that would take us to our Café of the Year 2010 at Hollowtrees farm, Semer. A break formed on the climb and, with some determined work by Ron Fisher and Justin we managed to drag back Glenn Morris who was gamely making a solo bid (on the same fixed gear of 72.5" as myself) for the Café Prime. Now lined-out, Justin was doing a handy impression of an egg whisk as he showed the beginnings of his Marmotte form. Just don't Peak too early Justin. Justin's son Jack was commendably tolerant of his Dad's juvenile behaviour, even though he had to suffer with lack of quality miles, and riding about twice as much bicycle in the form of his recently commissioned Bob Jackson. Tea was welcome, and we were welcomed warmly by the wonderfully cheerful staff.

Out into the gloom again, and back down to Monks Eleigh, along to Lavenham and thence home via Preston, Brettenham and Rattlesden (almost). Back by 1pm, with 46 miles on the clock (it's looking a bit pale around the display, so may need a new battery, so maybe I really did 56 or, even, 66?). A quick hose down for the bike, lunch, and a deep, hot bath. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

What with gloves and five layers of clothing, I couldn't handle the camera well enough to adjust the white-balance. It would have sounded a bit precious to bring everyone to a standstill just to make an adjustment. So, no picture. But there may be one if I put this on the Blog, I feel a drawing coming on

SJH

Wednesday 15 Sept 2010: A Dawn Flight

There are cultures where it is the convention to talk of your "miserable house" , "ugly, ill favoured wife" or "unsuccessful and untalented husband" so that you don't incur the wrath of whichever spiritual omnipotence (a.k.a. God) that you worship. This may have been an unfortunate misunderstanding of the expression "The Lord thy God is a Jealous God".

As an extension of this, we will sometimes avoid making remarks that might sound pretty crass if things go badly "I haven't had a puncture in months" "I never hurt myself badly if I fall off my bike" "I feel invincible today" or "I know, this is all going SO well, let's invade Russia".

Tempting fate, giving a hostage to fortune, speaking too soon.

I did that today. Chatting to Ron Fisher I said "back in the 1980s we used to be pretty worried by very strong wind, but these days it never crosses my mind to (say) cancel a ride because of a brisk breeze". About half an hour later, poor Dawn D'Amarco was blown sideways, and fell head first into a deep ditch. Sorry Dawn.

The remainder of the ride was conducted slowly and with caution. We had tea at the Lakeside Café at Onehouse (that may not be the correct name, but it IS a Café, and it IS by a Lake. The sun was now out, and still had enough warmth for us to spread ourselves around outside. There was a definite French feel to the set up. French people a passionate about fishing (among many other fields of endeavour) and Cafés by fishing lakes are frequently encountered, and they tend to be basic. If I say that this one was basic, I mean them no harm. It was friendly and informal in a manner that lacked any hint of self consciousness. And the sun was shining, which always helps. Under normal circumstances I would consider it too close to home for a 'proper' tea-stop. On this day it was just what was needed.

SJH

Ride For Luke, 12 July 2010

The reason for this short but enjoyable ride was a sombre one. Luke Southgate was but one of the casualties of the war in Afghanistan, but to his parents on the Mildenhall Estate in Bury he was everything, their hero, their son and their loss.

West Suffolk Wheeler and indefatigable Ultra-Man triathlete Simon Bourne had just returned from a multi-charity ride, accompanied by friends based at RAF Honington, which had taken them from the Rock of Gibraltar to Bury, with a tribute to Luke as the mainstay of his efforts. We were there on Angel Hill as representatives of the Wheelers, invited by Simon to lead a ride over the final miles to RAF Honington.

Now, Simon has connections. He served with the RAF Regiment (whose base is at Honington) as a PTI (Physical Training Instructor) in the 1980s, and subsequently with the Police in Bury, again as a PTI. He could be described as a man hard enough to be able to teach the hardest men how to be hard. These two parts of his life meant that not only were we allowed onto Honington base, but also we were escorted all the way by three Police motorcyclists and a Traffic Car. Simon and his partners on the 'RockRide' looked remarkably fresh, despite 1,600 miles that included 35 degree temperatures through Spain and hauling themselves over the Pyrenees.

There were, as far as I could ascertain, 20 WSW riders in full Club Colours, plus RAFCC members and Police cyclists making a total that the East Anglian Daily Times claimed to be 50 - and who am I to contradict that respected Organ? We had been promised a Police Escort and, by Jove, we got one. Three motorcyclists whizzing to and fro, stopping traffic at lights and roundabouts, plus the car following behind. This luxury took some getting used to - the automatic reaction to these hazards being to slow down in preparation to stop - but we soon got the hang of it, and decided that this was the one missing element from our Clubruns. We turned left onto the Mildenhall Road Estate, and negotiated the traffic-calming system that seemed to be based entirely (and thriftily) on the use of neglected potholes, to reach Luke's family's road. His family were gathered in a group on the verge outside their house, clapping and cheering. We felt very moved and extremely humbled - after all, we'd only ridden from Angel Hill, and felt unworthy. It was Simon and friends who had done all those sweltering miles.

As we rode along, I was asked by Forrest McCracken (weapons systems specialist in USAAF, recently returned from Afghanistan, Wheeler for over a year) "what's the significance of Gibraltar?". I flannelled a bit then moved up the peleton to ask Simon.
"Rock Apes" he said. "Used to be based on Gibraltar in the early days, so the RAF Regiment are known as the 'Rock Apes' ". The link will fill you in with two versions of this.

As we entered the Base, we passed the Primary School; all the teachers and pupils were lined up on the verge waving, cheering and clapping. Again, we Wheelers felt that we should be keeping a low profile. There was, understandably, a bit of a delay at the gate, then were escorted by a landrover round the whole of the perimeter road. It's around four miles! The hangar that was our destination was, well, huge. Like an aircraft hangar, in fact, and it contained yet another cheering crowd, this time mothers and pre-school children. Even more moving. Some of us driven to pretending to mop the sweat from our brows as we dabbed our eyes.

A tremendous experience.

SJH

A Cautionary Tale; (Never Volunteer)

On an elevated roundabout over a stretch of A11 which was, with its off-white concrete carriageways, reminiscent of the first Autobahnen of1930s Germany (only a thundering Auto-Union setting a speed record was missing), I was doing my time in the service of our sport by pointing down the slip road as each rider rounded the corner.

After 20 minutes of combined photography and arm-waving, my panama hat was lifted from my head by the strong Southerly wind, and flung onto the tarmac between me and the traffic-island. Instinctively, I leapt from the verge to pin down the escaping hat. My sandal hooked itself on the raised curb and I was propelled in an arc to a two-point landing; those points being right knee and the palm of right hand (which was still clutching my camera). This hand-camera combo hit the hat dead-centre. So at least I had range and direction spot on. There was blood. From hand to camera and from knee through trousers. And the camera seems to be mortally wounded, with internal injuries, though bearing only the tiniest scar on one corner of its case. It had, however, vomited its battery onto the tarmac.

Well damn, is what I say. Over the following two and a half hours I had time to dwell on the well-spent morning, unable to take photographs to make the time pass, and glancing at the blood oozing through my best fifteen year-old Gap chinos.

The event? Well, there is the (probably apocryphal) story of the journalist interviewing Abraham Lincoln's widow after the President's assassination at Ford's Theater in 1865 "But apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, what did you think of the show" - in other words, momentous though it all was, the National '100' had ceased to be my main concern.

The event? (take II) The CTT National 100 mile Championship was won by a thundering Auto-Union called Michael Hutchinson in a very fast time indeed (which may have been 3 hrs 26 mins). The chap from the Chelmer CC who started just one minute ahead of Hutch at 149, took about an hour longer to finish. Don't get me started on seeding for National TTs. Too late, I've started so I shall finish: they insist on approving what you've laid out, then criticise the end product when armed with hindsight in the form of a result gained by a rider several days after the start sheet has been published. The point of all this rambling rant being? We had to hang around for a very long time at the end, and I wasn't in the mood.

Also, Julia Shaw broke womens' event record with another extremely fast time that I am ashamed I can't remember, So well done everyone. Just remember, cycle racing can be dangerous - even if you're only marshalling.

Mind how you go now SJH.

Espresso Ride 27 June 2010. Wickham Market three ways.

First I must apologise for lack of photos - I didn't notice that my camera was set to video, so snaps are tiny video clips. I'll maybe check them. Secondly, I would like to acknowledge the help of my son, James, (right) without who's co-operation I wouldn't have got extremely drunk on Friday night(Falling-over-in-the-garden-in-slow-motion-at-4.15am- but-avoiding-the-pond drunk) and wouldn't have started this ride, 30 hrs later, still pretty severely dehydrated.

We were 14 in sunny Cornhill, namely (in no particular order) Paul Callow, Barry Denny, Julian Colman, Julian Long, Ron Fisher, Ron Fisher's Optician (CTC T shirt - Ron later confessed that even he couldn't remember the poor guy's name) Richard Stiff, Stephen Cleale (who turned for home about 5 miles short of the "tea break")Deane Hill, Richard Farrow (on another trip from Marlborough) Adi Grimwood, Jonathan Howe - fresh from an upside-down End to End ride ('JOGLE' ?), and myself SJH. With the wind south-ish but promising to be changeable. Julian bravely took the initiative and announced an outing to Wickham Market, leading us smartly out of town in a generally eastwards direction. Adi then hit the front, and gave every impression of re-living his Lotus Series at Hethel the previous Wednesday, dragging us all in his not inconsiderable wake at a rate equivalent to covering over twenty miles in a single hour.

The pace remained rapid most of the way to Debenham, where occurred the first minor difference of opinion on the route. I suggested a 'right' that cut a corner and avoided a blind junction, but Julian prevailed and we took the two sides of the triangle and passed the exit of my suggestion. To Julian's credit, he acknowledged his error. His other error was to admit of any error at all when leading a ride. When this sort of problem arises, and you're faced with that tricky blind right turn, you take the ride left. Without pause, thus putting the smart-arse (me) firmly in their place. You then face busking a route-recovery over the next few miles - but everyone on the ride still has faith in you, so it's worth the effort. After all, at the end of the day, what it all comes down to, if you think about it, not being funny, is; if you were worried about extra distance you wouldn't have left Cornhill on the first place, now would you?

There were a few dissenting voices drifting up from the rear of the peleton at one or two route-choices, but overall, I felt we were well on course. At one point, however, I heard Deane voicing a strongly negative view of a left that we were taking. It later became obvious that he'd gone his own way, and taken Richard Farrow with him.

We carried on until, about to pass Easton Farm Park, we stopped and thought about going there for tea. This was vetoed because of the likelihood of Deane and Richard waiting for us in Wickham-Mkt. Shortly, we swept into Wickham Market market square, hot, thirsty and ready for scones. The Café was shut. I've found a photo of happier times; a Wednesday, when it was open

We piled into a Newsagent/Sweetie shop for what sustenance we could find. Adi found 'Quick Energy ' Capsules reduced to 50p each. He and I bought two each. Since it said on the label 'do not take more than one dose per day' we took it that they would be effective. I put one in my bottle (re-filled with water from a pack that Julian had bought for two pounds. Thanks Julian, I owe you a Tea) and necked the other as soon as I got home. Adi also found the ice creams, and bought what I think was a Magnum Double-Caramel. Sugar-rush or what?

Richard Stiff won the Samaritan Award, for pumping up the rear tyre of a young man who asked for help. Apparently he had gone to a 'cycle shop' round the corner, and the man had said "I'll sell you a pump, but I make my living selling bikes not mending them". One day (we thought) he'll get his comeuppance (if there is any justice in this world. Oh dear, he probably won't, then).

A short stop then, 15 minutes, tops. Retrace to Easton and - guess what? - well most of you were there, so you know that we split properly this time. This wasn't a trial separation, it was a divorce, decree absolute and all. I'm still not certain how I came to be following Adi, Richard Farrow and Julian Long on the left hand choice, but I fancy that it was because it was the way we came out. The right-hand faction had their choice endorsed by Ron's Optician who Knew Routes due to lots and lots of Audax-ey rides (so Ron told me on Wednesday).

Just as our sinistral breakaway reached what I knew to be the route home, Adi took us in a curve, back onto the Wickham Mkt- Needham Mkt road which he felt would be quicker. Well, it was certainly faster. As we started a 'through-and-off' chain, I could feel that I was fading fast (or should that be "slowly"?). Adi gave me aid at this point. Usual stuff about concentrating on the wheel in front. I've tried that a few times, and I can now reveal that it doesn't work unless one ALSO has a bit of energy left. Adi could now see that "the power of the will" was useless without "the power of the legs" and was kind enough to push me a few times, which was help most gratefully received.

By Needham Mkt I'd run out of drink and needed a shop. No shop. But a pub! the image of a pint of shandy was irresistable. Down in two goes, never touched the sides, as they say. Others trouped in for health-giving mineral water, and there was good-natured merriment at my expense (I think that was what it was). Tottered home with the help of my chums with 74 miles completed. Tried to look human at family lunch. James had been rowing at Cambridge in the morning - but then he had 7 other blokes to help him, so it hardly counted.

SJH

Espresso Ride 20 June 2010. Return of the Blogger

So where did May go? What happened?
But I'm back on the keyboard, and here we go.

It was a cold day for Fathers, but the wardrobe decisions ranged from shorts'n'short sleeves to longs'n'long - that is from June to early March. We March Hares were the most comfortable on the way out, whereas the June Bugs were more at ease on the run home.

We listened, with feigned sympathy, as Dean told us about his struggle on the Bury '100'. 4h 35m glued to Brian Phillips' wheel "he was going like a train" wailed our Sunday Tormentor. Some of us wore sympathetic expressions, but not all.


Having counted the names on the register, I have a total of 11 names - but someone said there were 14 of us - if you read this and your name's missing, tell me. There were the two 'Syngenta' gentlemen (is one of you Simon?) riding strongly in preparation for London-Paris (in a planned two days), guest appearances by Richard Farrow (ex Wheeler and currently Chippenham & District)No one was able to come up with a route. The wind was from the North West, and I'd told Deane that we would NOT be going to Ely (the otherwise logical destination). So I led the group out via well travelled routes towards Knettishall and beyond. At the point when Mark (who had ridden in from Gazeley and was thus some 18 miles ahead of the game) asked me how far we were from the tea stop, I realised that we were heading in a rather more northerly direction than I had planned. "I reckoned on another ten miles, to give us between 30 and 35 miles before tea - and then 20-25 afterwards" I reassured him. "yes, but how far is it going to be" countered the ever-direct Mark. "Ten miles" I replied, whilst concentrating on a silent prayer that I might be right. We were heading towards Attleborough, but I was rescued by a sign to Old Buckenham to our right, which meant that we could join the B1077 Diss-wards . We were picking up the first signs of a tailwind at this point and, 4 miles short of Diss I took a punt on a left across Boyland Common - which gave us a full-on tailwind and bursts of 28/29 mph with sweeping bends and good visibility. My choice was vindicated by Sharon's local knowledge (though I only found this out after we were committed). We were within a mile of Bressingham, a destination often greeted with "Oh, not again", and yet those at the front still had no idea which way to turn (sorry, I can be quite waspish at times) . We arrive at refreshment within the estimated ten miles, and on time (11am). Rather more efficient service at Blooms, and excellent scones (that seemed to have been crossed with rock cakes). Paul bought (and ate, see picture) a confection that resembled a chocolate vuvuzela. I note from my snaps that several riders look tired. Note on Vuvuzelas; I think that this could be the third person plural of an irregular, reflexive, French verb "vous vous Zela".

Our return was by means one of the more direct routes, and taken at a fairly brisk, wind-assisted pace. After I had peeled off at Norton, and gone through the side gate into our garden, I realised two things. (1) No one was at home - which I should have remembered and (2) I was still feeling fresh, and could have gone with the group back to Bury, and clocked a total of 76 instead of 62 miles.

In the bathroom was a card and present from Polly, my photo captures the scene

SJH

Espresso 11 April 2010: Absent Friends leave a Gentle Ride

Just eight of us turn up, and head North East. Who needs Girona (that's in Spain, you know) when we've got Diss (& District). We follow Mike Cross's advice, and head for Diss, and the Duathlon in which WSW & Tri are to feature in strength (check the website for details, Ben Mickleburgh was 3rd, all others did v well as well). Having already led the rides for 4th & 7th out this way, my inspiration for variation was nearing desperation (but I didn't entirely Disspair). With a loop through various Harlings we arrived at Diss High School at 11am with 40miles on the clock and just in time to see Sharon Calton, Will Newland and Ben finishing in style. The wind was very cold, with low single-digit temperature to confirm the feeling. Most of us cowered in the school building scoffing cakes and peering out of the windows - half expecting an irate teacher to come barrelling up shouting at us to get OUTSIDE during break time.

We returned by one of the shortest routes to achieve 60 miles. Names ticked on the register where: Adi G, Adi Barnbrooke, Peter S-W, Paul Callow, Richard Balaam, a welcome return of Hugh O'Neil (who had lost the note from his parents covering prolonged absence) Graham Smith and me (SJH). I have to write out a hundred times "I will take pictures to record ALL rides"

Sunday 4 April 2010. Steve Newman Wins The Espresso Classic.

Adi, Steve Newman (guest appearance), Scots "Al" - in shorts (newcomer), Julian & Nathan Colman (who are related), Ron Fisher, the Glynn-Deane CC (motto "We care so you don't have to"), Ben Mickleburgh, Paul Callow, Peter Stephenson-Wall, Jonathan "Faster and Further Please" Howe & Stephen "The pen is definitely mightier than the Legs" Hill set off, at a modest pace, in the direction of Risby, Cavenham and points very slightly north of west. I turned off at Tuddenham and headed through Herringswell to Kentford, then Gazely, towards Higham but turned right, along the lovely road through to Barrow (currently a series of potholes tenuously linked by threads of damaged tarmac). With a total of only 40 miles, I felt that I had done the bare minimum. Later, I discover that I've not done much less than the rest of the ride - just even slower. Hardly enough to justify being slumped in front of the Malaysian GP, that's for sure.

The peleton carried on to Newmarket for tea, then home via Warren Hill, (a.k.a. 'The Gallops') Primrose Hill and Barrow. In the gallop for the Bury sign, Steve Newman took top honours, ahead of some other blokes (look, I can only work with what I'm given,OK?) making his ride worthwhile.
SJH

Wednesday 31 March 2010.

Jonathan, Tiger Tony, Ron Fisher, Tom-Tom and (ever so slightly late, due to last minute puncture; a tribute to his preparedness that it made him no later than "almost on time") Justin. It was cold. It was wet at times. It was windy. Two of us were tired. The other tired one was Tony, who was more a Tired Teddy than a Tiger Tony and only lasted as far as Felsham (however far that was - we didn't exactly go directly).
I hung on, with difficulty, especially on any climbs - and it wasn't by any means a taxing course. Tea stop was Hollowtrees where Justin charmed a couple of large friendly ladies of a certain age, while he was hanging small items of clothing on the fire guard (not his 'smalls' however). The LFLs told him how wonderfully slim he was, and Justin thanked them for not calling him 'skinny'
"Oh no, you're not that" they cried,
"you're still big where it counts"
It turned out that the LFLs still worked, though of pensionable age,
"What do you do?" we asked.
"We help care for people with learning difficulties" they said.
"Explains why you like talking to us" quipped Justin.
Gails of laughter.
Exit five ageing cyclists into the grey cold outdoors to follow a TT special route which began with the descent of Semer Hill, then left and right across the B1115 to Ash Street, Naughton, Gt Bricet, round the edge of Wattisham Airfield to Ringshall and Battisford, then Jack's lane (where we paused to give Jonathan a brief introduction to punctures and tube-changing) to Gt Finborough and home. Only 45 miles, but I felt exhausted.
SJH

28 March 2010. A lumpy ride to Semer.

Twelve of us gathered in the chill of an early start; certainly when I left Norton at what should have been 07:30, it felt extremely brisk. We were: Barry, Alan T, Pauls C & R, Jonathan Howe, Adi, Deane, Glynn, Simon Bourne, a welcome return of Hugh O'Neil and SJH - then Julian zoomed up, all energy and enthusiasm - and with a tale to tell.
Now I may not have got this quite right, but it would appear that a Godfather needed to take a flight to Argentina under cover of darkness and at short notice, and that it was an offer that he (Julian) couldn't refuse. So no sleep, and he'd watched the Australian Grand Prix. And not given anything away, like Jenson Button winning, for instance. Most commendable. But I'm still a bit concerned about his links to a Godfather.

Julian had so much energy to burn that he proclaimed "I feel like doing some hills today". My heart sank; I'm on my larger gear and I'm not going very well at the moment, anyway. But, there being no fool like an old fool, I thought that I could hack it OK.

Wrong.
As early as the climb up from Pinford End my legs were not delivering, but, Suffolk being the rolling county that it is, there were opportunities to get back on. Everyone else was having a great time (or so it appeared - possibly Hugh was feeling the lack of appropriate preparation). We did Stanstead and Glemsford, Foxearth and Acton, Lavenham then Monks Eleigh. As a change from all the climbing, there was a section after Foxearth where the front of the group was doing 27mph - giving me a leg speed of 126 rpm - and after a couple of miles of this I was slipping back into deep space. So Adi came alongside "get on my wheel! I'll get you back" and I thought to myself "If I can't stay on those ten wheels up the road, your single one isn't going to be much use" but I didn't say anything, not wishing to appear churlish. Barry got a puncture before Lavenham, and I made my excuses and rode on to the tea stop at my own (modest) pace. They all arrived alarmingly soon after I did, but I avoided the queue and had time to assume the Paul Callow role of tables and chairs monitor so that we could make a nice orderly group at the far end of an uncharacteristically quiet Corn Craft (one car, two customers when I arrived). In my photo, Julian looks as if he might be thinking about Godfather issues,
On the way back, just after the right turn at the wonderfully named Whelp Street and barely four miles into the journey, I decided to allow my chums to scamper off into the distance - maybe someone has the story? Tottered into empty house on my return, slumped into sofa to watch the Grand Prix, with its thrills and spills and the best result. Then bath and ZZzzzzzzzzzzzz.
SJH

Wednesday 24 March. Clare at Last.

Though we were over the approved number for a visit to Clare (10) two riders offered to go home without tea so that the rest of us could indulge ourselves with Sarah's hospitality. Justin has been stricken by a virus, and was apparently under doctor's orders to ride fifty miles without stopping. Tom Tom wasn't clear about his reason, but I don't doubt for a moment that it must have been extremely unavoidable.
Peter H, Justin, Barry, T-T, Jeff Agricole, Sharon, Mike Cross, Ron Fisher, SJH, Tiger Tony set off for the hills on our way to Clare, on a Sicklesmere - Gt Welnetham - Lawshall - Stanstead - Glemsford - Cavendish-ish route with a neat left and right at the foot of Water Lane at Cavendish to take the Pentlow route to Clare thus avoiding the main road. Outside No.1 Delicatessen we bade our farewells to T-T and Justin and filed in to a warm welcome. After only two changes of seating arrangement, we were all installed, munching, sipping and chatting. We discussed the advisability of booking ahead next time (after all Sarah is on speed dial on Peter's mobile) and a strategy for delivering leaflets in Ixworth for Adi and the Ixworth Crits (possible popular music combo - Adi and the Crits?). My pear and cranberry 'cake' was superb - and several of our party who made the same choice agreed.
Our return was the usual Poslingford version, which involves a touch too much downhill for my liking. I notice a drop in my uphill performance (its going downhill?) and wonder if the heavy cold and throat infection (not necessarily in that order) that I experienced last week could be having an effect. The fact that I reached Whepstead Church before anyone else only proves that (a) I have to go as hard as I can or come to a standstill (and I'm not certain how one copes with an uphill standstill when riding fixed) and (b) no one else was trying (though Barry claimed to be - but was probably just being diplomatic). Barry introduced us to his favourite back-route that takes a right some way before reaching Gt Welnetham that looks just like a private drive to start with, then becomes a tiny lane that joins a bigger lane that finally joins the A134 for a swift right and left at Bradfield Combust (what a name) to bring us to the start of the Lt Welnetham TT course.
I managed 51-ish miles of enjoyable riding. Mileages may vary, and can go down as well as up.

SJH

Sunday 21 March: A Fenland Fantasy - an Ely Excursion - Flat, Fast & Furious to Ely & Back

I was unable to take part due to grand daughter's first birthday. As a celebration, we met the family at Oxburgh Hall which is, confusingly, to be found in the village of Oxborough. I rode there, in the same fine sunshine, and into the same headwind, as the Espresso Ride. On the way, near to Coney Weston (where on might expect rabbits) I came across a couple of charming little pigs; wire-haired and with black splodges they were no more than two feet high and I took pictures - that I can no longer find. Do you ever do that with digital snaps? File them in the wrong (and so inappropriately wrong that you'd never ever guess, and just have to wait for the day you look for a photo of a favourite Aunt, and find a portrait of a pig) Ah! ignore all that - as you can see, I found the pig pics - they were still in the camera. also in the camera was my record of following "cycle route 30" in Thetford; doesn't look like Thetford, does it? It cuts through from a point opposite Tesco and the Kilverstone road, under the railway and onwards and very upwards to join the minor road that goes under the A11 to Croxton (the route that we used on our Wednesday jaunt to Lakenheath -thank goodness T-T had the good sense to avoid my scenic bit). Quite challenging.

Now, let's get on with Tricia's and Nathan's accounts plus photos of the Espresso ride that was an Ely Excursion.

TRICIA'S ACCOUNT
So, today's ride.

Lots out. Sharon joined us. Seemed to do just fine. First puncture before leaving Bury which must be some kind of record. Julian C by Bennett Rd hence pic. Nathan repaired it.
Rode to Ely. Flattest cycle ride of my entire life. 1st group pic was when something clattered on the road & we stopped to retrieve it on the road fm M/hall to Littleport. Apparently it was a nut & it wasn't important. Who caries unimportant nuts on club rides? Then Adi had a puncture 3 miles fm Ely. Stopped at a dreary cafe. Was expecting to go to that lovely Peacocks place so a little disappointed. Paul C & Adi went off & bought something synthetic looking in a plastic cup from possibly starbucks which was just opposite & may have supplied drinkable coffee unlike Tea for Two. Half decent bacon baguette though so mustn't grumble. [but you just did- sjh]

Then we rode 'ome. Uneventful. Possibly a little briskly & Nathan was moaning a bit 'cos he was on fixed. Julian tried to slow it down but quite honestly I was keen to get home & felt quite comfortable at 22mph + out of Tuddenham. Not bad as I'd clocked up nearly 65miles by then. Turned off at Flempton & more or less maintained the pace. Did 78.48M in 4hrs 14mins cycling time ave 18.5mph. Hopefully someone will fill you in on the last bit for the gp

NATHAN'S ACCOUNT

Went on the A ride today on the fixie !....69 INCHES ! average cadence....93, rather fast for me tbh ! 65 miles, 18.9mph average to Ely via Mildenhall and Littleport back via Red Lodge.

Went to the cafe with the window, in the square behind the cathedral.

People on the ride were:

ME :D, dad, deane hill, graham, glynn, sharon calton, trisha dennison, adi grimwood, paul callow, ron fisher, richard stiff (turned back to get home early), ben mickleburgh, peter stephenson-wall, and paul jay

2 punctures, 1 by Dad, after only about a mile, and one by Adi, about 5 miles out of Ely. No real excitement, other than the very high speed, probably due to the good weather, and straight, flat roads over the fens !
nathan

17 March 2010 - Lakenheath??? - Yes!!! And the cheapest tea'n'cake so far

South west wind. Clare? "Looks like it " said Peter.

Then a few more mercredists roll up, and we are a dozen (but not a particularly dirty one - though my bike could do with a bit of a clean). This, it was decided, would have been too many for No1 Delicatessen at Clare.
For a few weeks now, Tom-Tom has been keen for us to share his latest discovery, which is a farm shop tea room at Lakenheath. We have been shamefully reluctant to venture up there voluntarily (getting there while losing one's way north of Mildenhall is allowable), so we finally caved in and cruised northwards with the sou'wester at our backs. The redoubtable T-T took us by an oblique route, so that we weren't fully aware of where we were heading. This simple ploy prevented panic, though there was a certain amounted of twitching and shying-away as we hit the long flat roads with lines of Scots Pine. Just short of Lakenheath itself, we came to Christmas Farm - and thence to 'Mary's Tea Room'. As you can see from the photos, this is a genteel establishment, with an abundance of linen, several flower arrangements and a warm welcome. All this for just £2. Yes, that's TWO POUNDS. Astounding.

During our tea break we responded to the ambiance, with Richard Muchmore assuming the David Niven role from the film "Separate Tables" and all of us engaging in generally civilised chatter. In a paddock alongside the track to the Tea Room, we saw two startlingly marked horses (who looked pretty pleased with their outfits, I thought).
On our return route the wind hardly favoured us at all, (as I had promised when we left Thurston) being mainly headwind, with occasional crosswind. We covered a satisfying 66 miles at a reasonable pace and, who knows, might be back to Mary's.
SJH

14 March 2010 - A Mother of a Ride

Those escaping the hiked-up restaurant charges, and some who weren’t, assembled on Corn Hill ready for another invigorating shot of Espresso. They comprised: Ron Fisher, Dave Batterbee, Tricia Dennison, Mike Bowen, Barry Denny, Alan Trolove, Simon Bourne, Pauls Rooke & Callow, Peters Stephenson-Wall & Heath, Hills Deane & Stephen, Smiths Graham & Glynn, Jonathan Howe and Justin Wallace.

Newmarket was the destination: via Risby (and down Poor Man’s Heath - probably only marginally faster than the winner of the previous day’s time trial had climbed it), Cavenham, Tuddenham, Herringswell, Kennet, Kentford and through Moulton (where SJH and Paul R turned left and headed home for a luncheon appointment). On we sped through Dalham and up to the Cropley Grove junction (Peter H hung a right a couple of turns before this so as to get a good seat at Coffee & Co) where a right turn took us on to Upend. Through this delightful village – best viewed when coming from the other, slower, direction – and a right turn to Newmarket.

Somewhere along the road to Newmarket, Ron, Paul Callow and Peter S-W decided they needed a behind the hedge moment. Justin’s cries to the bunch to slow down succeeded in a reduction in pace from 20 odd mph to about 18mph. Seeing the chasing trio making slow progress, he, together with Simon, decided to do the honourable thing and drop back to help them get on. Working hard and running out of juice in the process, Justin towed them along for a mile or so. Feeling refreshed, the trio plus Simon (tucked down on the tri-bars) surged by. As they disappeared over the brow of Duchess Drive, Justin considered the pros and cons of altruistic actions and wondered whether Simon was cut out to be a Sports Ambassador.

As the depleted bunch arrived at Coffee & Co, Peter H was just finishing his tea & cake and was ready to mount up and head home. Paul C and Jonathan also wanted to get home early and left with him – the group was getting slimmer by the minute. As we were leaving Deane announced that he was heading back by a more direct route. The riders were almost convincing as they expressed their disappointment at his decision. Did Graham join Deane for the home run?

And so the remaining riders headed up the long gradual incline out of Newmarket to Ashley. The pace was hot; driven for long spells by someone who looked just like a slimmed down version of Glynn. But he was going so much faster than the Glynn Smith who had suffered like a dog only a matter of a month or so ago on the road from Bildeston to One House. Has he got an identical twin? The route back then followed the tail end of Suffolk Punch: Ousden, Hargrave, Chevington, Whepstead and Hawstead. The four hills extracting the last vapours of energy from the tanks of several riders. Credit to Tricia for the way she tenaciously hung on, lost contact and fought back several times during the morning – especially as she had ridden in from Barnham (a 70 mile day) and raced the previous day. Her front wheel almost fell out on the climb up Whepstead Hill, but no one was close enough to hear if she directed any choice words on the offending wheel. Amongst all this suffering young Alan Trolove maintained a serene pose as he soared effortlessly up the climbs. Seventh place in an under 16’s race in London the day before hadn’t phased him one little bit. It may seem picky but one can’t help wishing he would drop those gears a bit and increase his cadence.

Another day, another 50 odd miles in the legs of the Bury riders. There was a hint of spring in the air and the unmistakable urge of riders to shake off the dreadful winter and skip along the lanes. Either that or too much ‘Lambing Live’? [or could that be Ewe Tube? SJH]

Justin Wallace

10 March 2010. Peter goes home early and I change gear.

Justin, Peter H, Richard B, TT, Sharon, Jonathan, Ron, Tiger Tony, SJH. Great to see Tiger out again - he's been absent far too long. Said he was feeling better, so naturally we did our best to drop him on the way back. Also good to see Jonathan out mid-week - could this become a regular thing?
A dry but largely grey and mostly cold day; Justin was up for a long ride, Peter needed to be home early for an afternoon departure for North Wales. Harleston (Norfolk, not just outside Stowmarket) was mentioned by TT, and some of us thought that that was where we were going to go, right up until we swung into the car park at Bloom's of Bressingham. There was a stiff-ish North-ish breeze in our faces as we pedalled out, and TT managed to find a few combinations of road not recently used which, when added to well-worn routes was a bit dis-orienting (Diss was another destination, in fact, but was diss-missed due to nine riders being rather too many for Mere Moments on a busy Wednesday morning).

The only photo that I took was the one at the top of the story. The forest of new retro cake stands made a huge impression - but I still stuck to my scone and jam (another crumbly scone; great for taste but a b*gg*r to butter). I nipped out early to turn my wheel round for the tailwind home run. 51 miles when I swung down the drive and, unlike Sunday, I actually felt human. SJH

7 March 2010. Sub-Zero Heroes dodge the Ice

As you just might be able to make out from the photo [read the right hand scale] it was very, very cold at 0700 outside the kitchen door of Orchard House. We do have a micro climate here, and I did ask the met office for ideas as to why we got numbers several degrees lower than other places nearby. They responded very swiftly and efficiently (was it unfair to imagine them waiting for weeks for a question?) and told me that it was probably because we have the instrument facing north.

Having taken the picture (picture, if you will, SJH in nightshirt squinting at camera, knees bent to get best angle) I made what I now realise was a major tactical error; I showed it to Susan. We have that sort of relationship, you see, sharing life's experiences, openness (or so I am led to believe). "You canNOT go out in this, that is stupidly cold, you would have to be totally MAD!!!"

"I'll wait a bit, and go out later - but the roads will be dry, there's been no rain"

"phone Justin, see what he's doing"

Time rolls by. 0745 phone Justin and ask him if he could ring me when destination decided, and I'd meet them later. I pass this on.

"So they're all going out anyway?"

"Yes"

"Well if you get on with it, you could leave by 0830 and meet them at the normal time"

Allow myself the luxury of not telling Justin about the change of plan - covered in case of puncture

0902. Cornhill. Rode in with fellow Norton resident Richard Stiff. Join large jolly group of assorted size cyclists: Justin, Peter H, Deane, Neil, Jonathan Howe, Adi, Alan Trolove, Richard Stiff, Paul Callow, SJH, Peter S-W, Ron F.
This Cyclists' Dozen set off on the first stage of the Suffolk Punch from Nowton but then diverged to end up in Long Melford, then took Bull Lane out eastwards to end up at Semer, and Hollowtrees Farm Shop. Shortly after leaving Bury, it became obvious that though there had, indeed, been no rain, the land drainage in the bit of Suffolk we chose to cross had meant dribbles of water on many corners had become solid shiny ice. Why did we come across theses hazards at the same time as being overtaken by cars? The frequency of the calls for both ice and potholes led Jonathan to observe that it might be more efficient to call out when the road was clear.

An interesting paradox: though the temperature was 4 degrees lower than any we've observed this (hard) winter, my hands felt no more painful - in fact far better than last week. This reminds me of a survey a couple of years ago which found that, when asked which temperature was colder, minus nine or minus two, the majority plumped for minus 2. It seems that the problem was that when measuring hotness plus 20c is hotter than plus 2c - so the bigger number will always be hotter (whichever side of zero you are)

Arrived at Hollowtrees without event (as far as I can remember) and rather stretched the Sunday 'B' team behind the counter (apart from the lady in charge). Richard Stiff made a brave effort to cheer up Neil, Deane and Peter (see left). Ron Fisher held Justin and Jonathan spellbound with tales of Australia (below right) and Adi explained to Peter S-W and Alan just what they really ought to be doing in a club run (below right). No sooner had we finished, and risen from our tables than the Cappuccino Ride arrived - in strength, there were 18 of them. Thirty Wheelers awheel at the same time; brilliant. Less brilliant was the record of punctures and crashes (including Sharon's first tumble) they experienced, but they all looked OK superficially

The 12 of us set off south, then swung down to the Sudbury - Bildeston road, and pedalled, through the sunshine, for home, using the more important roads to avoid any more ice hazards. Some way before Bildeston I began to lose power and the excellent Mr Dykes gave me the occasional push to get me back on. Well, at began as occasional, only being needed on the steep climbs, but graduated to the slight inclines and, finally, on the the flat. The problem was that my legs didn't want to do the revs necessary to achieve 23 mph even if I was being pushed.
Neil was rewarded with lunch chez nous. Justin later told me than Neil had a touch of 'tennis elbow' the following week - I remain sceptical, but I know that I was knackered on Monday. 53 miles for me, and just under 17mph. SJH