In case there are rumours that we are a rival ad hoc club run, let me say, right away, that this is the official Café Reconnaissance Ride. We sample the Tea so that you don't have to. We were the Infamous Five, and Long Melford was our goal. Fine Foods, on the west side of The Street. Appropriate, I pointed out, that we seniors should stop here in Long Melford, since the speciality of this small town is antiques.
We spent a few minutes in the Café (while our redoubtable Yorkshire hostess prepared our scones and tea) calculating our average age (yes, sad isn't it. We'll soon be in that irredeemably sad category of old Codger who fixes strangers with a hard stare asking "And how old d'you think I am?" and you'll be in trouble if you guess over the actual - or, even, too close below) the answer - if you can remember where we were before that last parenthetic detour - was 68. Which I suppose makes me a mean cyclist.
The feel of the room is very 1950s and, despite a lot of mass-produced repro nostalgia (and as we all know, nostalgia isn't what it used to be) very authentic. I think this is down to the hostess's attitudes and the slightly bare look, with cream walls and some green detailing which was the green that was ubiquitous during the first fifteen years after what we oldsters merely call 'The War' with no qualification. To us there are other wars that do have a title, Crimean, Boer, First, Korean and so on, but The War is only ever the '39-'45.
Our hostess impressed us when, during a discussion of tea strengths and the effect of hard and soft water on this, she said
"Well, my tea supplier made my blend specifically for the water here".
It's definitely that "My tea supplier" coupled with "My blend" that sets this lady and her establishment apart.
But there was more. Casting an eye over our club outfits, the lady of the house asked
"In a club are you?"
"Yes, West Suffolk Wheelers in Bury St Edmunds"
"Do you have a club room or a hut where you meet?"
With pride, and thoughts of our Chairman Barry St Edmunds, we explained our recent elevation to the ranks Clubs With Huts. How shaming, how embarrassing the conversation would have been if we hadn't had an HQ to our name.
SJH
We spent a few minutes in the Café (while our redoubtable Yorkshire hostess prepared our scones and tea) calculating our average age (yes, sad isn't it. We'll soon be in that irredeemably sad category of old Codger who fixes strangers with a hard stare asking "And how old d'you think I am?" and you'll be in trouble if you guess over the actual - or, even, too close below) the answer - if you can remember where we were before that last parenthetic detour - was 68. Which I suppose makes me a mean cyclist.
The feel of the room is very 1950s and, despite a lot of mass-produced repro nostalgia (and as we all know, nostalgia isn't what it used to be) very authentic. I think this is down to the hostess's attitudes and the slightly bare look, with cream walls and some green detailing which was the green that was ubiquitous during the first fifteen years after what we oldsters merely call 'The War' with no qualification. To us there are other wars that do have a title, Crimean, Boer, First, Korean and so on, but The War is only ever the '39-'45.
Our hostess impressed us when, during a discussion of tea strengths and the effect of hard and soft water on this, she said
"Well, my tea supplier made my blend specifically for the water here".
It's definitely that "My tea supplier" coupled with "My blend" that sets this lady and her establishment apart.
But there was more. Casting an eye over our club outfits, the lady of the house asked
"In a club are you?"
"Yes, West Suffolk Wheelers in Bury St Edmunds"
"Do you have a club room or a hut where you meet?"
With pride, and thoughts of our Chairman Barry St Edmunds, we explained our recent elevation to the ranks Clubs With Huts. How shaming, how embarrassing the conversation would have been if we hadn't had an HQ to our name.
SJH
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