The sun shone on the new Club HQ as the Espresso ride gathered for the first time at their new venue for the Sunday fast run. Justin had volunteered to wait at Cornhill to catch any strays, and redirected Mark Harris. Young Will's Mummy took the photos with my trusty Ixus (Will has been riding with the Wednesday Crew the last few weeks, has just turned 14 and has a new bike to prove it). Barry read the riot act (no, I mean the new Club Run Guide Lines) adding, after the bit about riding only two abreast that "If you're dropping off the back, just shout, so we can wait for you" (Hold that principle in your mind for a while).
We were twelve whizzing down Southgate and wheezing up Horsecroft Lane. Josh confided to me that he'd forgotten his cycling shoes, and was struggling a bit in what looked to me like plimsoles
He said that he was getting his Dad to bring his shoes out for him, and would catch up with the ride to hand them over. It transpired that Josh hadn't actually shared his problem with his Dad, so negotiations had to start from scratch - with dropping his phone and having to stop to pick up the pieces and re-assemble them(I tried to make it easier for him to use his phone by pushing him, but it didn't really help as much as I'd hoped). The bunch was pulling away from us.
Now you will all be aware of the tale of the boy who cried "WOLF!" once too often. I had been shouting to the group about a (very patient) car behind us, and suggesting that they should single out. Espressi have been good at this lately, but this morning they were deaf and desperate to keep up, still 'all over the road' as motorists would describe it. SO, when I actually really really wanted them to hang on a minute, go easy, SLOW DOWN etc etc it will have been easy for the bunch to dismiss my shouts as just so much background noise. So they disappeared over the hill - and probably far away.
Finding no mobile signal at Pinford End, we carried on to Lawshall where a mobile signal was available. I tried Justin but, as he told me later in the day over a landline, he was too busy trying to keep up to be able to take even one hand off the bars, so no reply there then. Josh got through to his Dad. Well, I say 'got through' but there seemed to be a certain amount of confusion between father and son as to where exactly the latter was, and how the former could best rendezvous with the aforesaid latter. I suggested that we should head next left to Shimpling and telephone the paterfamilias when we reached the A134 Bury - Sudbury road. Josh's plimsoled feet were already suffering, and he was glad to reach the main road and phone his Dad and tell him where we were. Josh then told me that I could carry on with my journey home if I wished - and (dear reader) I did.
Heading for Bury, then taking the right turn towards Lavenham, through Cockfield then left towards Cockfield Green and Felsham I thought that I should pone home to say that I would be a bit later than planned. As I fumbled (should that be 'thumbled'?) with my mobile, freewheeling as I did so, I was aware of a rider alongside.
"Enjoying your ride?"
He said, "Going far? How far have you gone so far? Where are you headed?"
I outlined my morning so far, suitably edited. My new companion was a sixty-ish chap of amiable manner and solid build astride a 'Ridgeback' hybrid of astounding cleanliness. He told me that he rode 20 or so miles nearly every day (though space had to be made for golf) and that he'd owned his immaculate white bike for 8 years. He asked if I rode with the Espresso or Cappuccino rides.
"Ah, you know all the stuff" I said.
"Yes, I live in Briar Hill, round the corner from Dick Seggar (could this possibly be our very own TomTom, Richard?) who's in your club. I used to work at the same place as him"
My phone went off, in response to my earlier failed call, and my newest companion powered away at speed, with a polite farewell (obviously taking care - as one would- to demonstrate how I'd actually been holding him back a bit) without my finding out his name.
So, home about 30 minutes adrift, with a mere 30 miles covered, but the Good Deed for the day now done and dusted. And, according to Justin, the
pace of the bunch had been so ferociously fast, that we'd never (Josh and I) have got within sight of the disappearing group. Will had no trouble keeping up, Justin (at times) was losing the will to live and Mark Harris was dropped towards the end. All sounds perfectly normal to me.
If only I'd shouted louder they'd have waited, wouldn't they?. Wouldn't they?
After a Vodka Martini, later in the day, I found that none of it seemed to matter any more.
SJH
7 August 2011
We were twelve whizzing down Southgate and wheezing up Horsecroft Lane. Josh confided to me that he'd forgotten his cycling shoes, and was struggling a bit in what looked to me like plimsoles
He said that he was getting his Dad to bring his shoes out for him, and would catch up with the ride to hand them over. It transpired that Josh hadn't actually shared his problem with his Dad, so negotiations had to start from scratch - with dropping his phone and having to stop to pick up the pieces and re-assemble them(I tried to make it easier for him to use his phone by pushing him, but it didn't really help as much as I'd hoped). The bunch was pulling away from us.
Now you will all be aware of the tale of the boy who cried "WOLF!" once too often. I had been shouting to the group about a (very patient) car behind us, and suggesting that they should single out. Espressi have been good at this lately, but this morning they were deaf and desperate to keep up, still 'all over the road' as motorists would describe it. SO, when I actually really really wanted them to hang on a minute, go easy, SLOW DOWN etc etc it will have been easy for the bunch to dismiss my shouts as just so much background noise. So they disappeared over the hill - and probably far away.
Finding no mobile signal at Pinford End, we carried on to Lawshall where a mobile signal was available. I tried Justin but, as he told me later in the day over a landline, he was too busy trying to keep up to be able to take even one hand off the bars, so no reply there then. Josh got through to his Dad. Well, I say 'got through' but there seemed to be a certain amount of confusion between father and son as to where exactly the latter was, and how the former could best rendezvous with the aforesaid latter. I suggested that we should head next left to Shimpling and telephone the paterfamilias when we reached the A134 Bury - Sudbury road. Josh's plimsoled feet were already suffering, and he was glad to reach the main road and phone his Dad and tell him where we were. Josh then told me that I could carry on with my journey home if I wished - and (dear reader) I did.
Heading for Bury, then taking the right turn towards Lavenham, through Cockfield then left towards Cockfield Green and Felsham I thought that I should pone home to say that I would be a bit later than planned. As I fumbled (should that be 'thumbled'?) with my mobile, freewheeling as I did so, I was aware of a rider alongside.
"Enjoying your ride?"
He said, "Going far? How far have you gone so far? Where are you headed?"
I outlined my morning so far, suitably edited. My new companion was a sixty-ish chap of amiable manner and solid build astride a 'Ridgeback' hybrid of astounding cleanliness. He told me that he rode 20 or so miles nearly every day (though space had to be made for golf) and that he'd owned his immaculate white bike for 8 years. He asked if I rode with the Espresso or Cappuccino rides.
"Ah, you know all the stuff" I said.
"Yes, I live in Briar Hill, round the corner from Dick Seggar (could this possibly be our very own TomTom, Richard?) who's in your club. I used to work at the same place as him"
My phone went off, in response to my earlier failed call, and my newest companion powered away at speed, with a polite farewell (obviously taking care - as one would- to demonstrate how I'd actually been holding him back a bit) without my finding out his name.
So, home about 30 minutes adrift, with a mere 30 miles covered, but the Good Deed for the day now done and dusted. And, according to Justin, the
pace of the bunch had been so ferociously fast, that we'd never (Josh and I) have got within sight of the disappearing group. Will had no trouble keeping up, Justin (at times) was losing the will to live and Mark Harris was dropped towards the end. All sounds perfectly normal to me.
If only I'd shouted louder they'd have waited, wouldn't they?. Wouldn't they?
After a Vodka Martini, later in the day, I found that none of it seemed to matter any more.
SJH
7 August 2011
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