Iced Espresso – 31 January 2010

This endless bout of freezing weather, which began on the 16 December when the Wednesday runs Christmas lunch ride to Hollow Trees had to endure showers of sleet and snow, shows no sign of ending any time soon. And although the last Espresso run of January 2010 enjoyed some good sunshine, the bone numbing temperatures and a bitterly cold west wind ensured that the ride would fall into the category of Character Building.

Eight hardy souls assembled outside the shell formally known as Woolworths: Ron Fisher, Gareth Doman, Glynn Smith, Deane Hill, Julian Colman, Peter Heath, Paul Barry and yours truly. Our esteemed old blogger, SJH, was AWOL and so you’ll have to make do with this poor substitute. Sorry.

I had intended to show the lads the new streamlined Suffolk Punch route and thereby give them a foretaste of next Sunday’s event. However, having done a quick risk assessment of what would happen to eight riders descending ice covered Hawsted Hill, Hartest Hill, Somerton Hill or Poslingford Hill, we agreed on a plan ‘B’ - stay on ‘B’ roads. And so we headed for Long Melford via the B1066, which even had a few ice floes ‘running’ along its sides. A left turn at the Bull led us on through Acton to Great Waldingfield. We had decided that our destination would be the award winning Hollow Trees, famous for the aforesaid Wheelers’ Christmas lunch. And with the wind on our backs we were making good time. We sped on through Little Waldingfield and Monks Eleigh and braced ourselves for the usual rush-up Clay Hill, with the anticipation of a roaring fire, homemade cakes and tea with extra hot water. Unfortunately I made a cock-up of changing off the big ring onto the small and baulked Deane, who was on my wheel. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Glynn took the opportunity to box Deane in and allow other riders a chance at hill climb glory.

No chance. Even on one ride a week schedule, Deane is still as strong as a gift horse (good teeth too), and was soon powering up to the front of the rapidly opening group. More surprisingly, Peter Heath was soaring away with him – and Ron too I think. Peter has been getting stronger and stronger over recent weeks, and wonders if it could be down to an adjustment of his medication (!)

After the usual homemade cheer at Hollow Trees, we tore ourselves away from the fire and continued on our way to Bildeston. Every few minutes or so we were met by group after group of club riders - all clearly on a mission. Reliability trial perhaps? Lots of Colchester riders resplendent in multi-colour kit - such a contrast to ours.

Glynn had at times been showing signs of stress. He said this was due to long hours of work with little time to train, and he needed a short sharp shock to get him focused on training for the Girona week. Climbing up Hitcham Hill his wish was granted when he punctured in both legs. He gamely struggled on, wearing that face that we all know so well. Deane callously rode away with Ron while Glynn muttered, through gritted teeth, threats about a possible transfer for Deane to the Outer Hebrides Social Services Department. To Deane’s credit (or better judgement) he came back and helped pace his colleague home.

Forsaking the usual left turn to One House, we ploughed on through Stowmarket and along the old A14 to Wetherden (bearing in mind that a wether is a castrated ram, could there have been a hideout for the poor things here in days gone by?) and on to Elmswell. On the run in through Norton we cast a quick glance through the windows of SJH’s country seat – no sign of life. Had he frozen to death in his workshop? We will know soon enough.

A left turn to Thurston found the ice patches we had otherwise avoided. A cautious line was taken. Once in Thurston the roads cleared and the speed picked up on the run into town. No prizes for guessing who was putting the hammer down. Glynn looked pleased to have hit town, and now there just remained the ride to Deane’s house to collect his car. No doubt the conversation was about resettlement allowances and the like.

Justin Wallace

27 January 2010. Peter leads us in "Happy Birthday". Again

Today is my younger son Ed's birthday. Unfortunately, living in Wisbech he can't make it to buy the teas; so Peter is going to do the honours. Eager to help him celebrate are, Tiger Tony, Tom-Tom, Justin, Ann Fish, Ed Bucknell, Ron, Peter Gay, SJH, Richard Balaam & Sharon. We are to go to Clare, for the first time since 25th November 2009. As we left The No1 Delicatessen, in balmy Autumn sunshine, we had said "we'll be back before Christmas" . . . . . . . . .

Justin took us on a variation of the Cavenham/Kentford/Gazeley/Dallham/Stradishall route that we've used quite a lot, by going Risby/Barrow/Ousden. The Ousden bit was to avoid going down the hill to Dalham, which had a lot of slush and ice on Sunday. The weather was again cold - extremely cold first thing, and we had difficulty keeping warm. The climb from Stradishall to Hundon helped - and the descent to Clare kept me warm at 140 rpm (I had kidded myself on the outward journey that I was on the higher gear - and told people as much "I thought it was hard work this morning - then I realised that I must be on the higher gear". The truth was unavoidable on the long descent).

Peter had phoned ahead to book space for eleven and, sure enough, there were the tables pushed together; we should do this more often. A warm welcome to a warm Café, and further warmth provided by our spirited rendition of "Happy Birthday to Me" (this is Peter's personalised version). Some of us had already had a rehearsal at the start of the Pilates session on Monday - which was The Day itself. Peter got an extra portion of home made brownie (but no candle). Before beginning this Post, I actually found my notes from 2nd December (I mentioned having lost them). The one topic that I forgot, and can now share with you, is Peter's 2010 project to climb the height of Mt Everest during club runs in Suffolk using an altimeter to get the total climbed each ride. Is this still on, Peter?

We returned by going up Hickford Hill and through Foxearth to Long Melford. In Lavenham, we took the advice of Eddie Taylor's widow (whom we met outside the Café) and visited the cycle shop in which she had an interest - apparently it is about to close, and everything is greatly reduced. If there's one thing that is guaranteed to excite a cyclist's interest, then that one thing is something for next to nothing. If you take the right turn at the northern end of Lavenham to Preston St Mary, there is an industrial complex on the left. In a warehouse round the side, partly shrouded in camouflage netting, there seem to be three traders; a real, proper army surplus store with only the minimum of new stuff. (everything you could possibly need for your next BNP multiculturalism workshop) , A guy sitting behind a low counter surrounded with, well, 'stuff'' and the cycling bit, wich was being directed with a light touch by a friendly man restoring a Morris '8'. If you do go (and I recommend that you do; several of us bought tyres and tubes - no inflated prices) do not show interest in the Morris '8' project. I did, and if Tony hadn't approached with a purchase, I think I'd still be there. My big regret, now that I write with the benefit of hindsight, is that I didn't take a photo of the Birthday Boy with a spare tyre round his neck.

When I got home I was a yard or two shy of 62 miles - and I thought of Ann and Peter G who had another 10 or so to go. SJH

31 January 2010; Willpower Wilts and late Breakfast Prevails.

I am writing this on Sunday 31 January.
As I came close to waking, around 06.45, I could hear through a fug of fatigue Susan preparing unusually early B&B breakfasts. I lay and thought about the ride to come; 55 miles of Suffolk Punch route, (we were to do a try-out) plus around 15 miles of riding in and back; total of 70 miles; I considered my fatigue-for-no-reason; I closed my eyes again.

Half an hour later. Wake with a jolt of panic, then remember the above and stumble through to the kitchen and announce temporary loss of moral fibre, and decision to not go on club run.

Several hours later. Murray has lost, (the tie-break seemed never-ending) the sun has been out for simply ages, and from the late breakfast table (two griddled eggs on a rasher of bacon atop a thick piece of toasted home-baked bread, with just a splash of maple syrup and lots of freshly ground black pepper) I look out to the A1088 and see Stowmarket Club Run whoosh past heading South at speed and in what appeared to be close formation. A long while later, some other riders flew past headed North, with rough shouts and waves (or were they gestures?) - could they have been Espressos? (yes they were, see Justin's Blog)

Only one thing to do to save the day - catch up on a spot of Blogging before lunch. SJH

24 January: To Kilverston for Tea

No one has an idea about where to go. I offer the thought that, though the wind is from slightly West of North, we don't really want to go to Brandon. Still no ideas. I suggest Thetford Garden Centre and, by default, we set off in that general direction. I don't have a detailed plan, but Justin has a few ideas that get the ride rolling in the correct general direction, while adding enough loops and detours to give us a decent total mileage.

We are eight; Justin, Pauls Rooke and Callow, Ron, Tricia, Julian, Deane and SJH. The weather is cold and we are all struck by quite how hard it is to stay warm (the temperature is no lower than 2 or 3). The sun remains hidden for the whole ride, though almost appearing on the ride home. The pace is sensible. Deane has the puncture - see photo - and Paul C holds Deane's bike while the repair is effected, the rest of us ride up and down the road to stay warm. We go through Rushford, having first aimed as if we were going to Bressingham but then swinging North. A quick single file along the 1066, the left down the short steep hill with its always-greasy sweeping adverse-cambered left hander at the bottom and, in about three miles we are at TGC. Julian is very concerned about bike theft issues, so we go round to a back entrance to the plant display area. Doing this, we enter by a different door and realise just how enormous this place is. Not just huge, but densely packed with island units every shelf of which is crammed with merchandise; ornaments, place mats, tablecloths, napkins, crockery, glassware, garden furniture, garden tools, whimsical pictures, novelty calendars, sensible footwear, foolish footwear, scarves, knitted hats, wellies, indoor plants, outdoor plants, books, figurines, magazines, manuals and annuals, forks, spades, rakes, trowels, secateurs and gardening aprons, gardening gloves, gardening string and on and on and on. How do they keep track? Who buys all this stuff ? (OK the gardening stuff is allowable, I buy it myself).

Anyway, we navigate our way to the Café area and settle in the conservatory with a view across a field inhabited by an extremely busy bunch of moles (or one even more busy mole) to the stable block of Kilverston Hall on whose estate we were munching and slurping.

After tea, Paul R is kind enough to assist as I change gear (turn my wheel round); because the chain has stretched in the 2,000 or so miles that 'Pearson' and I have been together, we (Paul) had to adjust the mudguard stays to allow the wheel to be moved far enough back. The bigger gear made all the difference to my return ride, which used an ingenious route through Bridgham and East Harling to come down through Gasthorpe and Barningham to Stanton. Tricia sensibly jumped ship at Knettishall to go directly home. I swung off at Stowlangtoft, and found that I was comparatively fresh when I got home after 58 miles. SJH

20 January 2010; Nearly a record turnout.

We were an impressive thirteen at the bus shelter. We couldn't be IN because of the numbers. It was cold and grey, but evidently not too cold for Gareth's chum Darren to come out without socks or overshoes (only concession to the close-to-zero temperature was [were?] his three quarter longs). His recent cycling background has been in MTB, which may go some way to explain things. The other eleven were TomTom, Peters H and G, Justin, Tiger Tony, Richard Balaam, Sharon, Ron, Ann Fish, Mike Bowen and SJH.

We were Bressingham-bound, and TomTom led us on an unusual route ("I'm lost" he confided to me at one point) that maintained an air of mystery and confusion that kept us on our toes. Don't ask me where we went - I wasn't on my toes and was barely paying attention (in spite of pretending to T-T that I knew what he was up to).

I must apologise for the rather dull photos; as so often with clubruns the easiest time to take a snap is when we are all stationary for a puncture; the one featured was Richard Balaam's. One of my shots has Peter Heath casting a newly trained eye on the tyre and tube, locating the possible site of the damage. In the distance you can just make out the other third of the ride - the last section of Mercrédists had pulled in for a pit stop at a sugar beet-loading area down the road. I think the only larger ride on a Wednesday was for my birthday, when we were fourteen freeloaders (or rather, one Birthday Boy and thirteen chums keen to help him celebrate). Next week (27th January) will be the first after Peter Heath's 63rd, Monday 25th, which was spent in London. Might be worth turning up in strength - except I'm too late with this blog, unless you're sad enough to check your mail before coming out. There was a very long wait at Blooms of Bressingham when we arrived, because there was only one member of staff serving, and she took over five minutes to construct an Espresso for the lady at the head of the queue 16 (she was with a friend, for those who are keeping up with the numbers). Two chaps appeared eventually, but there was still a lack of urgency and organisation; Mike Bowen organises truck drivers with both of those qualities ( that is to say that he organises them with organisation & urgency to deliver with O & U) and he was getting very twitchy at the delay.

Once spread across three tables, we relaxed, browsed, sluiced and chatted in a barely organised way with no sense of urgency at all. We returned via Lopham & Redgrave Fens, and my favourite windmill at Thelnetham (I think - the place, that is. I know what a windmill looks like)

Appallingly, though it's only 6 days since the ride, I can't remember exactly how far we (I) went, but I fancy that it was around 56 miles. SJH

Cappuccino 17 Jan 2010. New Year Puncture Fest

The first day of clear blue sky and ever-present sun, since the recent bad spell of snow and ice, brought riders out in their hundreds. Well not literally hundreds, more metaphorically really, more than just a few to be precise, well alright then, 18.
Just being out on the bike brought a smile to almost every face, save perhaps for Mike Bowen who’d been suckered by a puddle concealing a pothole, which brought him crashing down 4 weeks ago, resulting in bruised ribs sufficient to keep him off the bike ever since, until today. Let that be a lesson to us all, - never ride through a puddle, ‘cos you never know what lurks beneath!
Those hoping to make up for lost miles were John Steed, Mark Eastwood, Richard Lines, Richard Balaam, new member Di Bellingham, Barry Denny, Peter Heath, Nathan Colman, Paul Barry, Richard Seggar, Jeff Agricole, Tony Panting, Mark Taylor, Boyd Nicholas, Mike Bowen, Dave Tilly and guests Glenn and Roger.
It soon became evident to all within 50 yards of it, that Jeff’s front wheel bearing was in terminal decline. If you’ve ever heard the bride and groom’s car driving away from the reception with a string of tin cans tied to the rear bumper, then you have captured absolutely the resonance and timbre of the said bearing. Quite how it held together for the duration of the ride is a mystery to us all. This noise was accompanied at every junction by the unearthly caterwauling which emanated from our Chairman’s cantilever brakes. To this we can add his gears, (I use the term lightly), which missed and jumped at every opportunity but especially when he’d just lost yet another Prime. Might Nathan’s expertise be called upon to give the machine a thorough overhaul, even if just for the sake of those riders with tinnitus who experience execrable pain every time said brakes are applied ?
Ride leaders John and Mark soon decided that the mixed ability group should be split up, so that both smaller groups could proceed without undue delays. This split was made shortly after puncture number one, quickly fixed by Nathan; we went our separate ways in Whepstead, agreeing to head into the westerly wind for Newmarket at around 11am. The best laid plans…………
The faster of the two groups, about a dozen of us, headed for Hartest where puncture number 2 was again sorted by Nathan. Now heading along the lane for Hawkedon punctures 3 and 4 accompanied each other, with Nathan called to arms once more and him dashing from one bike to another in case we mere mortals should either a) cock things up or b) slow things right down. Having depleted one CO2 cartridge, even Nathan had to admit defeat and use that outdated technology, the bicycle pump.
It looked like we might never make the tea stop, when puncture number 5 convinced many that the ride was destined to admit defeat. Leading the scores to this point was Tony Panting with 2 punctures; it soon became obvious that the recent spell of inclement weather, causing the Council to grit the roads was the cause of all our woes, as one flint after another was dug out of rubber. The flints were no respecters of reputation, as firstly Continental, then Schwalbe fell victim to their attack!
The group breathed a sigh of relief as we approached Ashley, whereupon the Chairman, who shall be nameless, took off down the hill like a startled rabbit, chased by Paul and Peter, with Nathan enjoying the ride at the back, after all he’d earned it!
We finally made Coffee and Co at 12 noon, an hour late. Little did we know that Mark and John’s group had only arrived at the Clock Tower café some 10 minutes earlier, after yet more punctures.
With no room inside Coffee and Co, the group braved the cold weather to sit outside before setting off the usual way home via Snailwell, Chippenham, Red Lodge, Tuddenham and Cavenham and thus back to town. But not before punctures 6 and 7 provided yet more opportunities for social discourse, and for Nathan to demonstrate his expertise yet again. Paul Barry now joined Tony on two punctures each. We decided that Nathan should be mentioned in Dispatches for loyal service above and beyond the call of any skilled mechanic, well done and thank you Nathan from us all.
I reckoned a total of at least 8 punctures, is this a Club-run record?
The writer clocked 59 sunlit miles but ‘Tom-Tom’ would have made it closer to 70.
Thanks again to Nathan for the photos.

PETER HEATH

17 Jan '10 - Sun Shines on Righteous Shock

A few brave birds were singing before dawn today, as the mercury hovered around zero. We are in that phase of the infant year when the afternoons begin to relent, and allow us a little more time before sunset. In case we get too excited at the prospect of spring, renewal and sap rising, the mornings keep us in the dark a little longer. 07.30 seemed like the middle of the night as I pedal up to the Garage for my paper. By the time that Richard Muchmore and I rolled into Cornhill the sun was out and proud the sky was blue and the tree under which we meet looked stunning.
There were ten of us. The other eight being Deane, Julian, I, Richard Stiff, Pauls Callow and Rooke, Ron Fisher and Tricia. Richard S pointed out the wildly amusing scaffolding lorry across the way

Mechanical problems began before we'd turned a wheel, Paul C complained that his chain was jumping after he removed it for cleaning so Adi took it apart again and replaced it the other way round. This was a success. Julian noticed a sinister bulge of inner tube protruding through his tyre like a cycling rupture (as he pointed out). PaulRooke produced a reinforcing strip to insert between tyre and tube. This was also a success. Later on Ron had a puncture at Ashley, which gives you a hint about our route. I had expected us to turn left for a loop before Newmarket, but we went right down the hill.
Nothing for it but to pull us out of this dive and turn left in the general Kirtling direction (R Stiff and I had clocked up only 21 miles, and it would be barely three to Coffee & Co). By meandering, first with me notionally in charge of the route and then with Deane taking over the decisions from his excellent forward viewpoint around 300 yds off the front. I have no quarrel with his choices. We had to reign in Richard M from going to The Clock Tower Café (once the regular stop for bikies, despite its atmosphere which was about 80% cigarette smoke, and cuisine "if they can't fry it you can't have it" - and still a favourite with a hard core of traditionalists).

After reviving beverages, buns and beans we set off up the gallops (Warren Hill?) then Primrose Hill and through to the start of the Higham TT course. Then off towards Cavenham, Lackford and West Stow. Some of us (Tricia and I; she with a bad chest and me with a lack of whatever it is that helps one to keep up) were getting a bit tired by this time. On the road from West Stow to Fornhams, Richard S and I turned left for Livermere etc and Norton, leaving the peleton to hammer off into the distance. Imagine my surprise when, at Thurston Great Green, just above Norton, I met Richard M - pedalling towards me. Well OK, I probably need to stand over you while you look at a map and I explain fully just exactly why this was a conundrum.

Tricia has given her Garminised route. She went left when we went right, at West Stowe. Richard S and I clocked up 58 miles, The weather was absolutely perfect for the entire ride, in fact I had to take off my hat at the top of Primrose Hill. SJH

Wednesday Ride on Friday. 15 January 2010

On this day, the 68th anniversary of Richard's birth back in the war years of 1942, Justin, Tony, Richard, Gareth, Ron and Peters Gay and Heath ventured out with the prospect of a less cold and drier day ahead. The one uncertainty was rain clouds approaching from the south but not thought to be arriving until mid-afternoon.

Once again Richard took control and weaved his way via Lavenham through ever thickening fog to the Woodlands Coffee Shop where he treated us all once more to scones/cake and lashings of tea/coffee. We all felt for Rickinghall Pete as he again suffered hot aches in his hands at the tea room but thankfully he eventually came round. Service at this choice stop was a little tardy because Trisha was left to do it all because her colleague had taken a welcome break moments before we arrived; apologies were made with accompanying smiles so we immediately forgave this lapse, although it's logged for future reference.

The rain came early on the return trip via Chelsworth, Bildeston, Hitcham, Buxhall, Woolpit and Drinkstone so men and machines arrived home wet, yet unbowed. Gareth found the experience illuminating as the hills pointed to an overall lack of fitness; however he voiced motivational mantras about targeting the Tour of The Peak Sportive in April as a means to lose the 14lbs he's gained through the year and become a lean, mean, climbing machine once again. Go for it Gareth!

Tony was much happier on his road bike after he mistakenly rode out with the Wednesday group on the far heavier and sluggish mountain bike, whilst Justin was delighted to be on the road again after a spell entertaining family, especially the endearing Oscar over the Christmas period. Justin is still lauding the new 28mm Schwalbe Marathon tyres now shodding his reliable Giant, so is he blazing a trail for us all on our flinty lanes? Are the days of the popular, yet cut-prone, Ultra Gatorskins numbered? Disgracefully though Justin now weighs a lardy 9st 6lbs, so it's carrot sticks and water for the next week.

Forty three miles covered for the Thurston contingent but Rickinghall Pete would have logged closer to 65

Peter

13 January 2010. We change allegiance in Needham

Still balaclava-cold at 9am in the bus stop. There's been a bit of a thaw, but snow is forecast so a curtailed run seemed prudent. Needham Market again. Not last weeks new best tea stop, apparently we must recalibrate in the light of Peter's cheese scone score from last week. We are to go to "Viv's"; further down Needham's main street, this café is (according to Peter) the CTC's stop of choice.

On the way we stopped for Peter to mend a puncture - I forgot to take a closer look as did this, I had intended to check out his improved technique following the Bicycle Maintenance evening that he went to last night at Elmy Cycles' swish new retail facility. Peter had told me that there was a lot to be gained from correct positioning of the bead in the well of the rim when it came to slipping it on with bare hands. Or something like that. He is highlighted in the photo - click on image to enlarge.

Barry left us as we neared Stowmarket, pleading a prior engagement. I think he found us too slow for him but was, as ever, too polite to complain. There were no further incidents, and Viv's (or L & V's I think the sign says) was soon found. The building has considerable charm, and has that Estate Agents' much loved cliché 'a wealth of old timber' adorning the low ceiling'd room. However, by far the most remarkable feature was a truly enormous collection of tea pots - the majority of which were of the novelty sort. My pictures tell the story.

This Wednesday was Richard Seggar's Official Birthday. Like our dear Queen, Richard will be having his actual Birthday on a different date, Friday. Being an honourable chap (and a republican - though not too upset, I hope, by my reference to our Monarch) he paid for all of us and, since a Friday ride was on the cards, promised to do the honours for those then present who had missed out by virtue of their absence today.

The return journey was uneventful, and followed pretty much the same route as last week - except that we took the old A14 through to Haughley and Elmswell and when Tony and I found ourselves off the front coming through Elmswell Tony decided to take the cut off just past the church, which was slushy snow over rutted ice, and gave us a bit of bike-handling practice down to the 1088. I achieved a gentle 31.6 miles, but probably worth 40 since I had to pedal all the time. SJH

Sunday 10 January 2010. A small turnout

Barry was leading an MTB outing from Brandon Country Park today, and I'm keen to hear how it went. Personally, I don't have a suitable machine in reasonable order, so I skulked indoors. However, I did spot an intrepid group who were certainly not put off by the snow. In fact they carried on, riding in the headlights of their team car. There was a time when I would have done the same. It was 1984, and our club - the VC Free Press brought the Beaujolais Nouveau from Beaune to Cambridge. This has to be done on the third Thursday in November, so not ideal riding conditions. Day one took us from Beaune to Epernay, mostly in pouring rain, and with considerable trouble with the tubs that several riders were using - getting the wheels dry enough to stick the new one on after a puncture was the problem. Our absentee host at a Chapagne Vinyard (we slept in the pickers' dormitory) left us a large fridge FULL of label-less bottles of the house product. The fifteen of us felt duty bound to finish the lot. Day two was Epernay to Calais; 225 miles it turned out to be and for the final 100 there were only four of us still on the road. We reached Calais at 2.30 in the morning having done just what these plucky little chaps have done for the final fifty miles or so, in snow that was over 4" deep. By eight the next morning we were climbing the hill out of Dover, headed for Cambridge. It had felt that this would be the easiest bit, and really hardly any distance at all. By 6pm at the Free Press Pub, we knew otherwise. SJH

Twelfth Night, but no Drama.

Definitely the core of the ride on this wintery Wednesday. There were clear roads for Tom-Tom, Peter H, Justin and SJH all the way to Alder Carr, which had closed its Cafe until (maybe) February. The disappointment was all the greater because Justin had confessed to never having been this most superior of Farm Shops, and we were looking forward to introducing him to its delights.

We are a group not easily cast down by life's vicissitudes, so back into Needham to search for tea. We found, inside a building that Susan and I had visited last May and had a rather indifferent experience, a new enterprise and a warm welcome. Our waitress was more than a match for Peter (terror of the tea room) Heath.

"Can we have a pot of tea . . . . and can we have a jug of hot water to go with it?"
"We do that anyway"
"I'd like a cheese scone - and can you pop it into the microwave for ten seconds?"
"We always do that"

Not only all that, but we were served loose tea, home made scones with jovial service. All this at the double fronted place near MSDC offices, I don't think that it has a name yet. Needham is a bit close for normal weather, but in special circumstances this could be a life saver.

At the café Pete gave a discourse on the Building of the Cathedral Tower, via a few anecdotes gleaned from Horrie Parsons, the Project Manager for the task, which he delivered at an excellent talk he attended recently. What a project; if you wish to be delighted and entertained for ever, then Pete's your man and the tower's the subject. It was, in fact truly fascinating.

T-T suggested that we risk the Creetings rather than the main road, and he was correct, but ominous clouds that looked like wet grey sheets - with pleats in them were developing fast to the north east as we wound our way down through 'Toy Town' to Stowmarket. Fine sleet began as we passed through Borley Green, and became heavier as we went through Woolpit (refusing T-T's offer of a snifter of Bushmills at The Old Police House in favour of getting home safely). Snowflakes were getting fatter, and had settled on the traffic island with A1088, getting heavier as we neared Norton. The glasses needed a regular finger across the lens to be able to see anything. I was dropped off at my door, just grabbing the pic above featuring Peter waving farewell.
I later heard that Justin and Pete got home OK. My total was 32.6 miles. 14.2mph.

Everything's white outside now, 3/4 hour after getting home.

Last Wednesday of 2009 - Four Richards and a Few Others

Eleven Mercredistes raring to go, hanging round the bus shelter. The 'net had hummed the previous day with doubts of the wisdom of even attempting a ride, because of the extreme cold. I write on the 9th of January, looking out onto the Winter Wonderland that is our garden, slumbering under a fresh fluffy blanket of driest crispest snow 3 1/4" deep, and marvel at our timidity. It was all down to Health (preservation of ours) and Safety (opportunities for falling off).

The Four Richards were Balaam, Farrow, Muchmore and Seggar. The Few Others comprised Barry, Peter Heath, Julian Colman, Paul Callow, (pictured doing his soon-to-be famous Edward Scissorhands impression) Ron Fisher, Glen Grant (Eagle Road Club) and your correspondent SJH. There was ice to be negotiated, but we weren't restricted in choice of roads, as even lanes were largely clear of snow. Last Wednesday didn't happen due to quite a lot of snow and a great deal of ill-health, so the year totters to an end with dwindling mileages, Peter Heath missing his 7,000 mile target (I later discover) by the maddening margin of 49 Miles. I understand that Justin may have broken the 8,000 mile barrier. My total (and I've only kept a record in one year - 2003 when it was 3,345 - since I was 16) is a modest but improving 5,611. You are all encouraged to post your totals in the 'comments' box below. We get very few, and the most recent was in Chinese; using Google translator, it turned out to be an invitation to a sex website. China's a long way to go for that sort of thing. As a film critic once said "if I want sadistic violence and gratuitous sex, I can get it at home".

So off we went Diss-wards, under the guidance of Richard 'Tom-Tom' Seggar, through varied landscapes of woodland and fen. There was, we found, less ice and snow than there was muck'n'mud, so those without 'guards got a thorough splattering. Though Chairman Barry did sport a minimal 'tail' (I've used them myself; very good at keeping the worst off the nether regions but no use for those following) it wasn't enough to prevent a complaint from Tom-Tom (click on the pic for full impact). I really should have taken a photo of Glen - who was far, far worse off. So wet and cold and grey. A Proper Winter club run.

We reached Diss in good time and made a perfect stack of bikes in front of Mere Moments where, as usual, we were warmly welcomed in spite of our ferociously muddy appearance. They were deservedly busy, so we had to split up to enjoy our tea and comestibles. Julian appeared to have been pampered, what with the individual tray of beans on toast as he sat in his armchair. The range of customers was very wide, as you can see from the snap of Peter with Richards B and T-T surrounded by a cross section of Diss polite society. Trips to the loo are not for those of a nervous disposition and look-style cleats involving, as they do, an iron spiral staircase followed by a step up then two further steps down - the last of which could be a surprise if you were in a hurry.

An uneventful trundle home to bring a total of 46 miles. But the day became eventful once back at Thurston. Peter and Glenn take up the story.

Had a phone call from the wife of Glenn Grant, the Eagle RC rider with us today to say he had lost his car keys, (parked at Thurston Railway Station) and could I tell them the name of our tea stop today......Mere Moments. Glenn had been rescued by his brother and taken back to Diss in the car, where Glenn thought the key might have fallen from his pocket when he took out his wallet to pay his bill.

Thing is, today was a special Christmas Lunch being held at Grant's parents in law in Bury in honour of visitors from Australia and Sweden. Glenn was desperate not to be late for it, I tried to placate his wife!! Hope he found the key, rescued his car, and his lunch was not in the dog!

Glenn, please let me know the outcome of your misfortune as I was concerned but felt helpless as I didn't even have the car to drive you around, take you home etc. Were the rest of the family speaking to you?

Peter
Got taken up to Diss to see if I'd left my keys at the cafe. Arrived at Diss and found them in one of my jersey pockets (don't ask). Total idiocy on my part!
Luckily there were no dinner issues - mobile phones used to warn of delays etc. Had a lovely Christmas lunch.
Thanks for the ride today - 46.63 miles, 1257 feet climbed, Avg speed 15.2mph. I'll try and hook up to a local waypoint and see how accurate the Garmin's altimeter is against a known height. Glenn

3 January 2010. Bright, Cold, Crisp and Scarey

A modestly attended ride of three, possibly certifiable, participants. Paul Callow, Paul Rooke and me. On our way out of town we met Deane, wrapped in the safety of his 2.7 litre Audi and heading for B&Q. When a cyclist prefers DIY to a ride, something is amiss. That something was possibly just what we three had overlooked; the danger of falling or being knocked off our bikes through a lack of skill/lapse of concentration by ourselves or a motorist.

Westley roundabout, head for Fornham, tempted to turn left to Risby - go a few hundred yards and change our minds. Lots of black, and some white ice. We end up going through Fornhams and left towards Culford, just keeping to the treated roads - though they still had a fair amount of hard-frozen slush down the middle of each carriageway. As we travelled northwards there was more snow on the fields, making for absolutely stunning views in brilliant sunshine (you had to be there). King's Forest was enchanting - but sheltered from the sunshine, and thus requiring quite a bit of concentration. Just as well Paul C was concentrating, and was thus able to warn us that about eight Does were hurtling at the road from the right. As we watched, slack jawed in amazement, they crossed at about 18mph, each one doing a leap and a shake of the hind legs at the same spot as they passed. Breathtaking sight. And the bloke with the camera did nothing.

A quick dash along A11 (less than a mile) at Elveden and first right down to Barnham, hoping to get through to Euston. Well, we tried Barnham village, but as you can see below, it was going to be a very, very difficult couple of miles. The white stuff you see was rock hard and polished. We gave up. A whizz down a nearly deserted A134 brought us back to near Fornham, where I turned off to Gt Barton and home. 38 miles pretty slowly - but well worth it. No really. SJH

Grand Christmas Lunch. 16th Dec 2009

The big day arrives. There had been talk of a motorcade to Semer, in view of the all too seasonal weather conditions combining with at least five of us stricken down (but not yet out) with infections of varying severity to our chests, however we were seven on our bikes plus Tom Tom in a car, which prompts me to burst into doggerel, to the tune of "We three kings".

"We free guys from West Suffolk are,
Wearing smiles and travelling far,
Rede and Flowton, Diss and Offton,
Following Tom-Tom's Car"

December 16th has been a special day for Susan and I since the early eighties. The Restaurant the we ran in Cambridge was in a cricket pavilion built by public subscription in the 1930s to honour Sir Jack Hobbs, (aka "The Master") the Cambridge-born cricketer. 16th December was his birthday, and also the day that I first opened the restaurant in 1978 (not realising the significance). We only found out through John Arlott writing Hobbs's biography. John told us about the "Master's Lunch" which Sir Jack used to attend in London with cricketing friends and which was continued after Hobbs's death; the toast, in champagne, was "The Master". For years we had a Dinner at The Pavilion commemorating these two events for about 35 regular customers. Fixed price for the food plus all the wine you needed - ending with a Salmanazar of champagne (9 litres). (I just had the couple of glasses of shiraz with our meal at Woodlands.)

The journey there was very wintery, with fine snow and a brisk wind. Probably four of the chests shouldn't have been out in that - but it wouldn't be a Wednesday ride without an element of un-caution. When we arrived, we realised that the hand of another "Master" had been busy. Justin and Ann had been up at Semer days ago to deliver all the essentials for a festive table, and J himself was whizzing round like a Maitre D putting the finishing touches. Even party poppers! Justin also had a customized paper hat for me - with a compilation of photos taken over the year and a dedication that modesty forbids me to quote. Peter Heath rightly also had a special presentation. Our very own personalised navigation system, Richard "Tom-Tom" Seggar was presented with a bottle of Bushmills (and to deliver this, Peter carried a pannier) and a suitably cartographic card signed by a grateful public.

For the food, we had decided when booking that we would order individually - thus tailoring our intake to suit an eighteen mile ride home. Mine was a sophisticated bacon and sausage sandwich with lots of ketchup - others were more civilised, but then we had treacle tart and custard - Tony's garnished with holly and a smile.

The presentation ceremony was happy and informal and, as we now know, resulted in a good position for a half page version of one of the photos taken by a staff member. One with Peter's camera and one with mine (I'm still not certain which one was used). We had vaguely hoped that the weather would ease off a bit for the return. It wasn't actually snowing anymore, but there was a modest dusting on the smaller roads just enough to make the scene festive (see snap of festive scene approaching the humpy-back bridge at Chelsworth). Prize for best decorated bike goes to Tony, and his miniature Father Christmas clinging on to the tinselled handlebars (no sign of Justin's plastic Jesus). So, God bless us all, each and everyone. (Tiny Tim, Christmas Carol)