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)
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)
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