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.
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
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
No comments:
Post a Comment