Last Wednesday of 2009 - Four Richards and a Few Others

Eleven Mercredistes raring to go, hanging round the bus shelter. The 'net had hummed the previous day with doubts of the wisdom of even attempting a ride, because of the extreme cold. I write on the 9th of January, looking out onto the Winter Wonderland that is our garden, slumbering under a fresh fluffy blanket of driest crispest snow 3 1/4" deep, and marvel at our timidity. It was all down to Health (preservation of ours) and Safety (opportunities for falling off).

The Four Richards were Balaam, Farrow, Muchmore and Seggar. The Few Others comprised Barry, Peter Heath, Julian Colman, Paul Callow, (pictured doing his soon-to-be famous Edward Scissorhands impression) Ron Fisher, Glen Grant (Eagle Road Club) and your correspondent SJH. There was ice to be negotiated, but we weren't restricted in choice of roads, as even lanes were largely clear of snow. Last Wednesday didn't happen due to quite a lot of snow and a great deal of ill-health, so the year totters to an end with dwindling mileages, Peter Heath missing his 7,000 mile target (I later discover) by the maddening margin of 49 Miles. I understand that Justin may have broken the 8,000 mile barrier. My total (and I've only kept a record in one year - 2003 when it was 3,345 - since I was 16) is a modest but improving 5,611. You are all encouraged to post your totals in the 'comments' box below. We get very few, and the most recent was in Chinese; using Google translator, it turned out to be an invitation to a sex website. China's a long way to go for that sort of thing. As a film critic once said "if I want sadistic violence and gratuitous sex, I can get it at home".

So off we went Diss-wards, under the guidance of Richard 'Tom-Tom' Seggar, through varied landscapes of woodland and fen. There was, we found, less ice and snow than there was muck'n'mud, so those without 'guards got a thorough splattering. Though Chairman Barry did sport a minimal 'tail' (I've used them myself; very good at keeping the worst off the nether regions but no use for those following) it wasn't enough to prevent a complaint from Tom-Tom (click on the pic for full impact). I really should have taken a photo of Glen - who was far, far worse off. So wet and cold and grey. A Proper Winter club run.

We reached Diss in good time and made a perfect stack of bikes in front of Mere Moments where, as usual, we were warmly welcomed in spite of our ferociously muddy appearance. They were deservedly busy, so we had to split up to enjoy our tea and comestibles. Julian appeared to have been pampered, what with the individual tray of beans on toast as he sat in his armchair. The range of customers was very wide, as you can see from the snap of Peter with Richards B and T-T surrounded by a cross section of Diss polite society. Trips to the loo are not for those of a nervous disposition and look-style cleats involving, as they do, an iron spiral staircase followed by a step up then two further steps down - the last of which could be a surprise if you were in a hurry.

An uneventful trundle home to bring a total of 46 miles. But the day became eventful once back at Thurston. Peter and Glenn take up the story.

Had a phone call from the wife of Glenn Grant, the Eagle RC rider with us today to say he had lost his car keys, (parked at Thurston Railway Station) and could I tell them the name of our tea stop today......Mere Moments. Glenn had been rescued by his brother and taken back to Diss in the car, where Glenn thought the key might have fallen from his pocket when he took out his wallet to pay his bill.

Thing is, today was a special Christmas Lunch being held at Grant's parents in law in Bury in honour of visitors from Australia and Sweden. Glenn was desperate not to be late for it, I tried to placate his wife!! Hope he found the key, rescued his car, and his lunch was not in the dog!

Glenn, please let me know the outcome of your misfortune as I was concerned but felt helpless as I didn't even have the car to drive you around, take you home etc. Were the rest of the family speaking to you?

Peter
Got taken up to Diss to see if I'd left my keys at the cafe. Arrived at Diss and found them in one of my jersey pockets (don't ask). Total idiocy on my part!
Luckily there were no dinner issues - mobile phones used to warn of delays etc. Had a lovely Christmas lunch.
Thanks for the ride today - 46.63 miles, 1257 feet climbed, Avg speed 15.2mph. I'll try and hook up to a local waypoint and see how accurate the Garmin's altimeter is against a known height. Glenn

3 January 2010. Bright, Cold, Crisp and Scarey

A modestly attended ride of three, possibly certifiable, participants. Paul Callow, Paul Rooke and me. On our way out of town we met Deane, wrapped in the safety of his 2.7 litre Audi and heading for B&Q. When a cyclist prefers DIY to a ride, something is amiss. That something was possibly just what we three had overlooked; the danger of falling or being knocked off our bikes through a lack of skill/lapse of concentration by ourselves or a motorist.

Westley roundabout, head for Fornham, tempted to turn left to Risby - go a few hundred yards and change our minds. Lots of black, and some white ice. We end up going through Fornhams and left towards Culford, just keeping to the treated roads - though they still had a fair amount of hard-frozen slush down the middle of each carriageway. As we travelled northwards there was more snow on the fields, making for absolutely stunning views in brilliant sunshine (you had to be there). King's Forest was enchanting - but sheltered from the sunshine, and thus requiring quite a bit of concentration. Just as well Paul C was concentrating, and was thus able to warn us that about eight Does were hurtling at the road from the right. As we watched, slack jawed in amazement, they crossed at about 18mph, each one doing a leap and a shake of the hind legs at the same spot as they passed. Breathtaking sight. And the bloke with the camera did nothing.

A quick dash along A11 (less than a mile) at Elveden and first right down to Barnham, hoping to get through to Euston. Well, we tried Barnham village, but as you can see below, it was going to be a very, very difficult couple of miles. The white stuff you see was rock hard and polished. We gave up. A whizz down a nearly deserted A134 brought us back to near Fornham, where I turned off to Gt Barton and home. 38 miles pretty slowly - but well worth it. No really. SJH

Grand Christmas Lunch. 16th Dec 2009

The big day arrives. There had been talk of a motorcade to Semer, in view of the all too seasonal weather conditions combining with at least five of us stricken down (but not yet out) with infections of varying severity to our chests, however we were seven on our bikes plus Tom Tom in a car, which prompts me to burst into doggerel, to the tune of "We three kings".

"We free guys from West Suffolk are,
Wearing smiles and travelling far,
Rede and Flowton, Diss and Offton,
Following Tom-Tom's Car"

December 16th has been a special day for Susan and I since the early eighties. The Restaurant the we ran in Cambridge was in a cricket pavilion built by public subscription in the 1930s to honour Sir Jack Hobbs, (aka "The Master") the Cambridge-born cricketer. 16th December was his birthday, and also the day that I first opened the restaurant in 1978 (not realising the significance). We only found out through John Arlott writing Hobbs's biography. John told us about the "Master's Lunch" which Sir Jack used to attend in London with cricketing friends and which was continued after Hobbs's death; the toast, in champagne, was "The Master". For years we had a Dinner at The Pavilion commemorating these two events for about 35 regular customers. Fixed price for the food plus all the wine you needed - ending with a Salmanazar of champagne (9 litres). (I just had the couple of glasses of shiraz with our meal at Woodlands.)

The journey there was very wintery, with fine snow and a brisk wind. Probably four of the chests shouldn't have been out in that - but it wouldn't be a Wednesday ride without an element of un-caution. When we arrived, we realised that the hand of another "Master" had been busy. Justin and Ann had been up at Semer days ago to deliver all the essentials for a festive table, and J himself was whizzing round like a Maitre D putting the finishing touches. Even party poppers! Justin also had a customized paper hat for me - with a compilation of photos taken over the year and a dedication that modesty forbids me to quote. Peter Heath rightly also had a special presentation. Our very own personalised navigation system, Richard "Tom-Tom" Seggar was presented with a bottle of Bushmills (and to deliver this, Peter carried a pannier) and a suitably cartographic card signed by a grateful public.

For the food, we had decided when booking that we would order individually - thus tailoring our intake to suit an eighteen mile ride home. Mine was a sophisticated bacon and sausage sandwich with lots of ketchup - others were more civilised, but then we had treacle tart and custard - Tony's garnished with holly and a smile.

The presentation ceremony was happy and informal and, as we now know, resulted in a good position for a half page version of one of the photos taken by a staff member. One with Peter's camera and one with mine (I'm still not certain which one was used). We had vaguely hoped that the weather would ease off a bit for the return. It wasn't actually snowing anymore, but there was a modest dusting on the smaller roads just enough to make the scene festive (see snap of festive scene approaching the humpy-back bridge at Chelsworth). Prize for best decorated bike goes to Tony, and his miniature Father Christmas clinging on to the tinselled handlebars (no sign of Justin's plastic Jesus). So, God bless us all, each and everyone. (Tiny Tim, Christmas Carol)

Wed 9th Dec 2009. We wind up in Wymondham for a brief encounter.

The intrepid Wednesday regulars (New strap line "We do the miles so you don't have to") have decided, in the face of logic, sensibility and the certainty of returning into a headwind, to go to Wymondham. Peter Gay, who rides in from Rickinghall, could vouch for the wind direction - but the Tea Stop we have decided on was his idea and he has been keen to take us there for quite some time. The weather was chilly but supportable, and the eight of us enjoyed a steady ride with intermittent sunshine all the way to Attleborough. There was a pause for puerile humour as ride Members Ron, Richard, Gareth, Peter Heath and Tony posed to pose round the altered sign for Wiley road.

Some of us had been to Attleborough on the Espresso ride (20 September), when we had a jolly tea at tables on the pavement in the warm autumn sunshine. There was discussion about the wisdom of carrying on to Wymondham (I was puzzled at the un-wisdom of NOT going, since it was the whole reason for coming out this way in the first place). Little groups rode of in different directions looking for . . .er . . something or other and came back with nothing to report so at last we set off again, along a main-ish road for a disputed distance. I guessed about five miles, some said ten. It was around 6, and well worth it. We turned left, away from the town centre and towards the station where, to our delight, there was a Café/ Restaurant with a "Brief Encounter" theme, stuffed with railway memorabilia and serving good food and tea in quite lavish surroundings. Certainly a contrast for Ann Fish, just returned from a cycle tour of Thailand and Cambodia. The temperature difference was another shock to her system - steaming humidity to near-zero dry cold, plus Wheelers' speed as opposed to tourism pace.

After a tour of the 'Dining Car' themed area, and viewing of the many posters and artifacts, we reluctantly remounted and head home. The route was different,and maybe a touch bleak, but round these parts there's less choice than in our dear and more familiar Suffolk. Oh, and the headwind was there Ok. When I reached home my total was 62 miles, but as you can see from the snaps, it was worth it. SJH

Sunday 6th December 2009. A drenched Quartet leave their mark Hollowtrees.

The morning after the night before, and the rain is already heavy. It had been forecast several days ago that Sunday would be wet, and the majority of those who attended the WSW Club Dinner at Bury St Edmunds Golf Club on Saturday night the fifth had already decided to NOT go out. I thought that I was the only soft-headed idiot when I arrived at Cornhill and threaded my way through the Sunday Market stalls, clattering with the noises of setting up and abuzz with the shouts of greeting, commiseration, disgust at the weather and despair with the football. Possibly the reason, at the back of my mind, for turning out was the receipt of the Ensign Trophy for Club Run Attendance. A huge and impressive cup, for just turning up! Oh, and I picked up the Hill Climb Trophy, by default really. For just turning up. "Gotta be innit to winnit" eh?

No one else in funny clothes. Oh good, I can do a quick ride, straight home AND feel virtuously smug. Then I saw Nathan, accompanied by another Dr Tom who has been riding out with Il Cappuccini of late, and is from Woolpit rather than Ixworth. Then Julian hove into site , making a total of four soft-headed idiots. We discussed tactics. Julian and I won the brief discussion, and the four of us set off for a shortish (possibly no tea stop) ride. As we headed broadly southwards, the wind got stronger and stronger and the constant heavy rain was livened up by vicious squalls that nearly brought us to a standstill. Shouting "bring it on!" and pedalling harder seemed to be the only (and rather embarrassing, looking back on it) solution. We hardened in our resolve to skip the tea stop, with all the usual arguments around getting cold and not wanting to set off again being used to defeat poor Nathan who's mind's eye was dominated by cake.

Then, very very gradually the rain began to ease. As we rode through Lavenham it had stopped. We reversed our tea stop decision and took ourselves off to Woodlands Coffee Shop, at Hollow Trees Farm near Semer. There, got the complete and correct title in (see Wednesday 2nd Dec Blog).

The presentation of the baked beans was worth a picture (if not a thousand words) and flavour matched the flair. While munching away, we were joined by the Cappuccinos, and we graciously allowed them to accompany us home. Mark Eastwood was on 63" fixed, which rather upstaged me I have to say. His red Mercian road frame looking beautifully spindly and elegant and sporting an ingenious arrangement for the rear brake; because the caliper wasn't long enough to reach the rime of a 700c wheel if normally positioned, he had mounted it in front of the brake bridge instead. It was a while before I'd worked out what exactly it was that was different. By now the sun had come out and we had a bit of a tail wind and all was right with the world. How rides can change. You can be nearly dropped, wet, exhausted and aching - but half an hour later it's all sunlit uplands and a heart bursting with joy as you speed effortlessly in the good natured company of your co-equipiers.

Or something.

A nice round 50 miles SJH

Wednesday 2nd December

It was decided that we should call in at Hollowtrees Farm to arrange our booking for the Grand Wednesday Ride Christmas Luncheon Outing. Now I think I should point out that the correct title of catering outlet is "WOODLANDS COFFEE SHOP", I am guilty of referring to it as 'Semer' or 'Hollowtrees'. I think it's time we got it right, don't you? Richard sorted a slightly varied route to our current favourite watering hole which (and I'm writing this at Christmas, so