Mince Pie Run Day. -4c. Ice on the walk to the garage for my paper, just like yesterday. Tony, Justin and Ron Fisher are due to come up the road to collect me - after a 'snow check'. I had been busy defending to wife and daughter the apparent rashness of going out when I had pronounced the previous (almost identical) day's weather as "far too dangerous". Me and my big mouth, eh?
They arrived, without incident, it would seem that there is rather more salt about than yesterday. We decided on a route that kept to main-ish roads that would (or should) have been treated. Down the 1088 to Elmswell, then follow the road to Stowmarket and from there follow the 1115 towards Bildeston. So far so good and companionable. It didn't seem quite so cold as we rolled along. We realised that we needed a plan that went a bit further than "let's avoid the lanes" and reached "so what route that avoids the lanes do we need in order to reach to Rattlesden?". As we were about to descend the little hill at the end of Hitcham it was perfectly plain that we should just turn round and go back, and then go left at One House then left again to the warm sanctuary of the Five Bells. We reckoned on about a 12.15 arrival.
Then it began to snow, so we were smugly happy with our decision to turn. The snow got a bit heavier. Smugness was replaced by plain relief. Then I got my puncture. Rear, of course - what other sort would one get in weather like this? Tony Panting's pictures tell the story, and my traditional cyclists' head wear doing its traditional thing of moving upwards coupled with the reading glasses essential for finding the flint that turned out to be the cause give me a distinctly "Bah Humbug" aspect. And, dear readers, that would exactly reflect my mood.
Fingers now numb with cold, gloves no longer even damp proof and a good half hour's ride home, we made another decision; we would go straight home. Ron Fisher, being made of stearner stuff and riding his mountain bike opted to follow plan B release 1, whilst we grovelled home on plan B release 2 (I had an additional reason to want to go home - I'd realised while fumbling in pockets for my specs that I'd left my money behind, and the generosity of others might not be able to keep pace with my need for alcoholic consolation) I was home by about 1.15, relieved and soon revived. Tony emailed on Tuesday to say that he had a chest cold - he had been suffering quite badly on the home. Get well soon, Tony
SJH
They arrived, without incident, it would seem that there is rather more salt about than yesterday. We decided on a route that kept to main-ish roads that would (or should) have been treated. Down the 1088 to Elmswell, then follow the road to Stowmarket and from there follow the 1115 towards Bildeston. So far so good and companionable. It didn't seem quite so cold as we rolled along. We realised that we needed a plan that went a bit further than "let's avoid the lanes" and reached "so what route that avoids the lanes do we need in order to reach to Rattlesden?". As we were about to descend the little hill at the end of Hitcham it was perfectly plain that we should just turn round and go back, and then go left at One House then left again to the warm sanctuary of the Five Bells. We reckoned on about a 12.15 arrival.
Then it began to snow, so we were smugly happy with our decision to turn. The snow got a bit heavier. Smugness was replaced by plain relief. Then I got my puncture. Rear, of course - what other sort would one get in weather like this? Tony Panting's pictures tell the story, and my traditional cyclists' head wear doing its traditional thing of moving upwards coupled with the reading glasses essential for finding the flint that turned out to be the cause give me a distinctly "Bah Humbug" aspect. And, dear readers, that would exactly reflect my mood.
Fingers now numb with cold, gloves no longer even damp proof and a good half hour's ride home, we made another decision; we would go straight home. Ron Fisher, being made of stearner stuff and riding his mountain bike opted to follow plan B release 1, whilst we grovelled home on plan B release 2 (I had an additional reason to want to go home - I'd realised while fumbling in pockets for my specs that I'd left my money behind, and the generosity of others might not be able to keep pace with my need for alcoholic consolation) I was home by about 1.15, relieved and soon revived. Tony emailed on Tuesday to say that he had a chest cold - he had been suffering quite badly on the home. Get well soon, Tony
SJH
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