Another of those days when the forecasts are dire, even for God's own County of Suffolk and yet we get a very pleasant morning's ride. We are thirteen at New Green Centre including Tom in his brand new full wheelers outfit (see photo). With no real destinational inspiration we opt for Hollow Trees at Semer. After all, this haven of tea and scones is accessible from most directions, and only the lack of a tailwind home would stop us coming here nearly every week. This week, the wind isn't that favourable, being rather more west than is ideal - but hey, we're tough cyclists and we can cope with whatever.
Rather early on (Buxhall in fact) I find that I'm having trouble keeping up, and I announce that I'll make my own way to the Café. Another solo meander through Suffolk lanes took me through Hitcham and, being on my own, I could explore a couple of dead-end lanes. Checked out Hitcham Church - another fine largely 15th century specimen - and then the lane signposted 'Hitcham House' . Beautiful well-manicured verges line the lane as it gently climbs to The Big House. I wondered how far up here the gate was. I didn't have to wait very long; a very clean BMW came down toward me, with a very smart lady at the wheel. The window came down ("ah" I thought "I've reached the no-go area")
"Can I help you?" said the very well-turned-out lady. It is a peculiarly British form of words, isn't it? There is of course absolutely no offer of help implied, unless it could be considered helpful to indicate the way out. I said that I was curious to see how far I was able to ride up this beautiful lane. The very smart lady (with a look that indicated that going too far wasn't an option) said "down the bottom, at the junction. It's a private road".
Maybe a sign down at the junction would reduce the amount of people curious to catch a glimpse of the house. I did catch that glimpse, but of course I am prevented by the 'get off my land act' from telling you anything about it.
And so to Semer, and a warm welcome. I take my beans on toast with pot of tea on the terrace, in the now-warm sunshine. I helpfully advise Chloe that the other dozen Wheelers are on their way - (but she knows already of course. Peter's been on the phone). Chloe then asks if my chums will be joining me, and then sets about wiping the tables. What service, Eh?
Tom Smith and Julia Jepson arrive a few hundred yards ahead of the field - so far ahead that they're out of my photo. They'd come up Semer Hill of course. A jolly and sociable time in the Autumn sunshine follows. For the return Tomtom takes us south through Kersey then a southward loop via various Lidseys and up to Monks Eleigh, using the marvellous network of lanes that fills the area bounded by the B1115, A1141, A1071 and A134 (though the western end nearest to Sudbury has fewer roads). It was during this return journey that I felt a return of some of my energy. My tactical error was not to keep this quiet. I could/should have lurked around the rear of the bunch all the way home, just 'feeling better' rather than gravitating to the front and expending my new-found well-being in a rather high-profile manner. And so it was that, when I peeled off at the end, there were mutterings about mysterious improvements in health, and accusations of lead-swinging at the start.
All I can say is that there was absolutely no connection whatsoever between my fluctuations in performance and the st*r**ds that were perfectly legally prescribed for a recognised medical condition. No really. All malicious fabrication by dark forces.
Great to feel a bit better, though.
SJH
Rather early on (Buxhall in fact) I find that I'm having trouble keeping up, and I announce that I'll make my own way to the Café. Another solo meander through Suffolk lanes took me through Hitcham and, being on my own, I could explore a couple of dead-end lanes. Checked out Hitcham Church - another fine largely 15th century specimen - and then the lane signposted 'Hitcham House' . Beautiful well-manicured verges line the lane as it gently climbs to The Big House. I wondered how far up here the gate was. I didn't have to wait very long; a very clean BMW came down toward me, with a very smart lady at the wheel. The window came down ("ah" I thought "I've reached the no-go area")
"Can I help you?" said the very well-turned-out lady. It is a peculiarly British form of words, isn't it? There is of course absolutely no offer of help implied, unless it could be considered helpful to indicate the way out. I said that I was curious to see how far I was able to ride up this beautiful lane. The very smart lady (with a look that indicated that going too far wasn't an option) said "down the bottom, at the junction. It's a private road".
Maybe a sign down at the junction would reduce the amount of people curious to catch a glimpse of the house. I did catch that glimpse, but of course I am prevented by the 'get off my land act' from telling you anything about it.
And so to Semer, and a warm welcome. I take my beans on toast with pot of tea on the terrace, in the now-warm sunshine. I helpfully advise Chloe that the other dozen Wheelers are on their way - (but she knows already of course. Peter's been on the phone). Chloe then asks if my chums will be joining me, and then sets about wiping the tables. What service, Eh?
Tom Smith and Julia Jepson arrive a few hundred yards ahead of the field - so far ahead that they're out of my photo. They'd come up Semer Hill of course. A jolly and sociable time in the Autumn sunshine follows. For the return Tomtom takes us south through Kersey then a southward loop via various Lidseys and up to Monks Eleigh, using the marvellous network of lanes that fills the area bounded by the B1115, A1141, A1071 and A134 (though the western end nearest to Sudbury has fewer roads). It was during this return journey that I felt a return of some of my energy. My tactical error was not to keep this quiet. I could/should have lurked around the rear of the bunch all the way home, just 'feeling better' rather than gravitating to the front and expending my new-found well-being in a rather high-profile manner. And so it was that, when I peeled off at the end, there were mutterings about mysterious improvements in health, and accusations of lead-swinging at the start.
All I can say is that there was absolutely no connection whatsoever between my fluctuations in performance and the st*r**ds that were perfectly legally prescribed for a recognised medical condition. No really. All malicious fabrication by dark forces.
Great to feel a bit better, though.
SJH
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