Time for a look back at a few Wednesday Ride accounts that have been lurking aound the dark corners of my laptop
On Wednesday 9th March, around 16 of us set off for 'La Hogue' which is fast turning into a favourite browsing and sluicing station. It is on a single-track road off the the road from Kentford to Chippenham. Heading East you turn left at the apex of the second bend of the 'S' about a mile after going over the A11. In fact, if you pass La Hogue and keep going you meet the A11; but you may only head to Norwich. We went by a circuitous route that included Ousden and Dallham, and it was just before Dalham that Mary Narey (noted runner, but new to road cycling) slammed through a pot hole and punctured both tyres. Enough spare tubes were found, and also the expertise to fit them. We Wednesday guys (that's 'guys' in the American usage which encompasses everyone) are just so deeply wonderful and truly helpful.
At La Hogue, it turned out (Dawned on us) that it was Dawn's birthday, and she was presented with three candles in her chocolate muffin. I preserved this moment with my Canon Ixus, as well as a snap of the multiple-puncture moment. Later, attempting to adjust the file-size setting (which had been changed to the smallest setting, giving quite poor quality results) I inadvertently wiped the memory card. Feeling hugely digitally competent, I downloaded to the laptop that I have 'inherited' from Polly, the free software Zero Assumption Recovery, and rescued the missing pictures. Hurrah!. The following Wednesday, I told Dawn all of this, and promised to send her a copy. Then while doing some cleaning-up of the photos on the laptop – I wiped them all ! This time it was permanent. I haven't told Dawn yet, so not a word, OK?
The following Wednesday, 16th, again we were around 16, and I was on gears for the first time since last September. Surprisingly, so was my usually-fixed wheel companion Glenn Morris. I was having a road test of Richard Stiff's Flandria, with a view to purchase, Glenn was on a dark grey full-Carbon job. He mentioned that the Flandria's front brake was rubbing. I thought to myself “how on earth did he hear that?” forgetting that Glenn is still in his prime. We of the Wednesday Core often communicate via 'dialogues of the deaf', so such acute hearing is bound to impress. We head North-Eastwards, with the inevitable Bressingham tea stop as our goal. Justin takes us out via Walsham le Willows and Gislingham and thence towards Mellis. We meet a few tractors, and have the odd car behind which just sits there for what seems like miles. His means that we travel in single file for rather more of the ride than we enjoy. There is 
grumbling at the back, concerning the 'Yo-Yo' effect, plus some who were spooked by the approach tractors – one of which was quite exceptionally wide, and tested the nerves of the less hardened. We went through the edge of Diss, out the other (North East) side and looked settled for a substantial loop before tea. This was a tactical error. We had within our number Sharon Calton, who has intimate knowledge of the area, and had noticed that we had just passed a right turn that would have taken us to Bressingham – metaphorically speaking, we could smell the coffee. Result? Rebellion. The tail end turned round and took the tea route (which also led to coffee). Justin, and those riders 'loyal to Justin' carried on.
The breakaway arrived after about twenty minutes. Can 'breakaway' be the correct description? since they were arguably 'the ride' and we (lounging around sipping and nibbling) were the breakaway – except, of course, for the fact that we broke off the back, so what should we be called? I think that at one point Justin could have been relied upon to come up with a few suggestions. Now that we were all together (though at separate tables – see photo) there was a degree of jollity and that relaxed and warm friendliness for which the Wednesday ride is so rightly famed.
The service was quite the fastest I've experienced here. The scones were the now-usual enormous size, but felt a bit yesterday-ish. When eaten, they were well up to standard though perhaps those who opted for microwaved ones enjoyed the best experience. We returned as a group, though there was a certain friskiness at the front that had to be tamed. Again, we had quite long periods of single file riding. By dint of an extra loop after Thurston, dropping off Tom-Tom at Woolpit on the way, Justin and I managed 55 miles.
Wednesday, 23rd March. Probably most Wheelers will know that this was a slightly controversial ride, though enjoyable for (I venture to suggest) almost everyone. The weather was so warm that I took off a long sleeve base-layer before we'd even set off. Jeremy Waterson (new rider – done a couple of Espressos) kindly (and unpromptedly) offered to store my surplus clothing in his van and we set off. Crockery Barn was the destination, and Peter took his ride leadership to a new level by phoning ahead to make sure that the Café could cope with the 19 riders that we were. We somehow managed the lanes with our large and unwieldy peleton without too much drama, Rich Seggar navigated with his usual panache – he does this trick (doesn't work with me because I've been to Crockery Barn too many times) of almost circling Ashbocking before emerging from a tiny lane, almost opposite the entrance, which gives the impression that we are in the middle of nowhere. We are, in fact, barely a mile from the main road from Wickham Market to Needham ditto.
The friendly staff had already moved the outdoor furniture into position for us, and coped pretty well with a group that was probably three times the usual size. Smiles go a long way in compensating for delays. Lindsay Clayton, who had been coping with only one brake for most of the ride out, left early to ride up to Diss, Madgett's for a new cable.
On the return journey, in glorious sunshine and with a favourable wind, the pace began to rise and, by the time we reached Debenham, the gap had grown to the point that communication was difficult. Not so much Chinese Whispers as Chinese Bellowing, but the effect was the same. I 
missed what I had thought was the left turn we were supposed to take (but wasn't). Behind us came cries of (we thought) “straight on”. What was meant by “straight on” was in fact “straight on past the one you've already missed and take the next left” - but the cries of left got lost in the wind, and flew on to a set of lights at roadworks and waited there. No one appeared. We sent an emissary who reported no cyclists to be seen. So we carried on towards Eye, not quite realising the storm that we had caused. The rest is history and red cards. I clock up nearly 65 miles.
There was quite a good turnout for Wednesday 30th March and there was a deal of light hearted banter about Red Cards and unacceptable behaviour. Peter was toiling around the villages collecting the collecting boxes full of change collected for the Marie Curie Cancer Care. This is an arduous task; coins weigh a lot; panniers soon get over-heavy. Peter spends several days spread over a couple of weeks each year doing this (secretly getting stronger and stronger).
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