Sunday 1st January 2012. 3 cylists, 2 punctures, 1 ride

Checking last year's diary, the weather then was the same as the weather now. These days, though my diaries seldom make it past April, they are usefully informative about that first quarter. Why should it be so hard to keep going? And, more to the point, why do I start again each January - always filled with optimistic energy, to go all the way through to December. I begin, each year, with a resolution to be the very soul of brevity. A short, pithy account of each day. Simple. No longer than this first paragraph, in fact.
Ah, but then a few momentous days, and I'm floundering about trying to catch up; finishing Monday's entry on Thursday; that sort of thing. But some occasions just seem too big for this ideal format. Do I write (should I have written) "Mother's funeral. Sunny. Not many there. Music went down well. Family arguments at the wake". In fact, I was writing about that on and off for three weeks - and didn't finish the year beyond that April.
Where was I? Weather. Grey, mild, dry. Mud on damp roads. Lots of birdsong - except when we observed a sparrow-hawk doing its high-speed patrol down a narrow lane; all creatures small holding their breath as it hurtles past.
Too late for the HQ run, I ride towards Tostock along what Neil Dykes refers to as "the smugglers route" to meet Richard Muchmore and Justin. Just a quarter mile from home my rear tyre deflates rapidly and quietly. The Continental Ultra Gatorskin was only 53 miles old (fitted on Friday morning), and now had a centimeter slice in the sidewall - must have been glass, but no sign of it in the cut, so maybe a very large bit. I deploy the 'bike boot' from my Leyzine repair kit to reinforce the tyre - the cut has gone right through the carcass, but the wound on the inside is only a couple of mm long. All fixed and Bike back together, we head towards Drinkstone via Park Road. Left and right at the end and . . . front tyre (bought same time as rear) goes down in just the same way as the earlier rear. Well, damn, I said.

Fortunately my chums are the patient sort, and Justin is never short of one-liners to fill an idle moment or too. I discover that the cause of this, second, puncture is . . . . another piece of glass, embedded in the tyre. Must have been part of the same patch of glass that I must have ridden over. Will I be able to remember, next time I get a glass-puncture, to check the other tyre as well? Because I certainly ought to - and so should you.
The time is advancing very rapidly, having now lost nearly half an hour to tyre-related problems. And now my brand new, box fresh Contis are looking distinctly second hand. We take a short tour to Long Melford, in the hope of finding somewhere open; Fine Foods is closed but, almost next door, is Tiffin & Co. A friendly lady appeared at her door as we were about to lean our bikes against her outdoor furniture (stop sniggering). So friendly was she that she offered parking in the back yard of the Café. We carefully tiptoed with our bikes through two passageways and a couple of rooms and rest our steeds against another set of outside furniture in a small enclosed courtyard. I notice that the back gate is bolted and padlocked, so we will have to retrace later.
The friendly lady displays everything that is on offer, and there is certainly plenty to tempt us. I feel that we should use Heathian rigour in our assessment. I check that the scones are as fresh as they look, and order one with butter and jam (but no cream), Justin selects a darkly tempting chocolate & beetroot cake (look, come on, we all eat carrot cake; Parsnip Petit Fours may be next, or maybe Turnip Tarts) and Richard had both a scone and a cake. Our tea was of good strength and served in jolly crockery (see pic of comforting Brew) in my picture Justin looks like he needs cheering up (but if you click on it to produce the full size image, you will discern an incipient smile) Richard never looks glum, he even looks cheery in the February pic in the 2012 Calendar (only a Tenner, loads of pics- plus the international racing calendar. Available at the Club Dinner) Reports of the cakes were extremely favourable, but the scones were not quite cooked for long enough; just a bit chewy at the base. I didn't mention this, not wanting to spoil a perfect teatime. More people had arrived before we left at about 12.30.
An uneventful return ride was welcome, Justin & Richard came with me on my shortest route from Felsham to Norton, taking great care in Heath Rd in case that was where the glass was hiding, and dropping me off at Orchard Towers at about 13.45. Neither tired nor cold or wet, just annoyed at the fate of my tyres. On my walk to the garage the following morning I see the glass in the gutter, chunks rather than shards, pint beer mug most likely.

SJH