17 March 2010 - Lakenheath??? - Yes!!! And the cheapest tea'n'cake so far

South west wind. Clare? "Looks like it " said Peter.

Then a few more mercredists roll up, and we are a dozen (but not a particularly dirty one - though my bike could do with a bit of a clean). This, it was decided, would have been too many for No1 Delicatessen at Clare.
For a few weeks now, Tom-Tom has been keen for us to share his latest discovery, which is a farm shop tea room at Lakenheath. We have been shamefully reluctant to venture up there voluntarily (getting there while losing one's way north of Mildenhall is allowable), so we finally caved in and cruised northwards with the sou'wester at our backs. The redoubtable T-T took us by an oblique route, so that we weren't fully aware of where we were heading. This simple ploy prevented panic, though there was a certain amounted of twitching and shying-away as we hit the long flat roads with lines of Scots Pine. Just short of Lakenheath itself, we came to Christmas Farm - and thence to 'Mary's Tea Room'. As you can see from the photos, this is a genteel establishment, with an abundance of linen, several flower arrangements and a warm welcome. All this for just £2. Yes, that's TWO POUNDS. Astounding.

During our tea break we responded to the ambiance, with Richard Muchmore assuming the David Niven role from the film "Separate Tables" and all of us engaging in generally civilised chatter. In a paddock alongside the track to the Tea Room, we saw two startlingly marked horses (who looked pretty pleased with their outfits, I thought).
On our return route the wind hardly favoured us at all, (as I had promised when we left Thurston) being mainly headwind, with occasional crosswind. We covered a satisfying 66 miles at a reasonable pace and, who knows, might be back to Mary's.
SJH

14 March 2010 - A Mother of a Ride

Those escaping the hiked-up restaurant charges, and some who weren’t, assembled on Corn Hill ready for another invigorating shot of Espresso. They comprised: Ron Fisher, Dave Batterbee, Tricia Dennison, Mike Bowen, Barry Denny, Alan Trolove, Simon Bourne, Pauls Rooke & Callow, Peters Stephenson-Wall & Heath, Hills Deane & Stephen, Smiths Graham & Glynn, Jonathan Howe and Justin Wallace.

Newmarket was the destination: via Risby (and down Poor Man’s Heath - probably only marginally faster than the winner of the previous day’s time trial had climbed it), Cavenham, Tuddenham, Herringswell, Kennet, Kentford and through Moulton (where SJH and Paul R turned left and headed home for a luncheon appointment). On we sped through Dalham and up to the Cropley Grove junction (Peter H hung a right a couple of turns before this so as to get a good seat at Coffee & Co) where a right turn took us on to Upend. Through this delightful village – best viewed when coming from the other, slower, direction – and a right turn to Newmarket.

Somewhere along the road to Newmarket, Ron, Paul Callow and Peter S-W decided they needed a behind the hedge moment. Justin’s cries to the bunch to slow down succeeded in a reduction in pace from 20 odd mph to about 18mph. Seeing the chasing trio making slow progress, he, together with Simon, decided to do the honourable thing and drop back to help them get on. Working hard and running out of juice in the process, Justin towed them along for a mile or so. Feeling refreshed, the trio plus Simon (tucked down on the tri-bars) surged by. As they disappeared over the brow of Duchess Drive, Justin considered the pros and cons of altruistic actions and wondered whether Simon was cut out to be a Sports Ambassador.

As the depleted bunch arrived at Coffee & Co, Peter H was just finishing his tea & cake and was ready to mount up and head home. Paul C and Jonathan also wanted to get home early and left with him – the group was getting slimmer by the minute. As we were leaving Deane announced that he was heading back by a more direct route. The riders were almost convincing as they expressed their disappointment at his decision. Did Graham join Deane for the home run?

And so the remaining riders headed up the long gradual incline out of Newmarket to Ashley. The pace was hot; driven for long spells by someone who looked just like a slimmed down version of Glynn. But he was going so much faster than the Glynn Smith who had suffered like a dog only a matter of a month or so ago on the road from Bildeston to One House. Has he got an identical twin? The route back then followed the tail end of Suffolk Punch: Ousden, Hargrave, Chevington, Whepstead and Hawstead. The four hills extracting the last vapours of energy from the tanks of several riders. Credit to Tricia for the way she tenaciously hung on, lost contact and fought back several times during the morning – especially as she had ridden in from Barnham (a 70 mile day) and raced the previous day. Her front wheel almost fell out on the climb up Whepstead Hill, but no one was close enough to hear if she directed any choice words on the offending wheel. Amongst all this suffering young Alan Trolove maintained a serene pose as he soared effortlessly up the climbs. Seventh place in an under 16’s race in London the day before hadn’t phased him one little bit. It may seem picky but one can’t help wishing he would drop those gears a bit and increase his cadence.

Another day, another 50 odd miles in the legs of the Bury riders. There was a hint of spring in the air and the unmistakable urge of riders to shake off the dreadful winter and skip along the lanes. Either that or too much ‘Lambing Live’? [or could that be Ewe Tube? SJH]

Justin Wallace

10 March 2010. Peter goes home early and I change gear.

Justin, Peter H, Richard B, TT, Sharon, Jonathan, Ron, Tiger Tony, SJH. Great to see Tiger out again - he's been absent far too long. Said he was feeling better, so naturally we did our best to drop him on the way back. Also good to see Jonathan out mid-week - could this become a regular thing?
A dry but largely grey and mostly cold day; Justin was up for a long ride, Peter needed to be home early for an afternoon departure for North Wales. Harleston (Norfolk, not just outside Stowmarket) was mentioned by TT, and some of us thought that that was where we were going to go, right up until we swung into the car park at Bloom's of Bressingham. There was a stiff-ish North-ish breeze in our faces as we pedalled out, and TT managed to find a few combinations of road not recently used which, when added to well-worn routes was a bit dis-orienting (Diss was another destination, in fact, but was diss-missed due to nine riders being rather too many for Mere Moments on a busy Wednesday morning).

The only photo that I took was the one at the top of the story. The forest of new retro cake stands made a huge impression - but I still stuck to my scone and jam (another crumbly scone; great for taste but a b*gg*r to butter). I nipped out early to turn my wheel round for the tailwind home run. 51 miles when I swung down the drive and, unlike Sunday, I actually felt human. SJH

7 March 2010. Sub-Zero Heroes dodge the Ice

As you just might be able to make out from the photo [read the right hand scale] it was very, very cold at 0700 outside the kitchen door of Orchard House. We do have a micro climate here, and I did ask the met office for ideas as to why we got numbers several degrees lower than other places nearby. They responded very swiftly and efficiently (was it unfair to imagine them waiting for weeks for a question?) and told me that it was probably because we have the instrument facing north.

Having taken the picture (picture, if you will, SJH in nightshirt squinting at camera, knees bent to get best angle) I made what I now realise was a major tactical error; I showed it to Susan. We have that sort of relationship, you see, sharing life's experiences, openness (or so I am led to believe). "You canNOT go out in this, that is stupidly cold, you would have to be totally MAD!!!"

"I'll wait a bit, and go out later - but the roads will be dry, there's been no rain"

"phone Justin, see what he's doing"

Time rolls by. 0745 phone Justin and ask him if he could ring me when destination decided, and I'd meet them later. I pass this on.

"So they're all going out anyway?"

"Yes"

"Well if you get on with it, you could leave by 0830 and meet them at the normal time"

Allow myself the luxury of not telling Justin about the change of plan - covered in case of puncture

0902. Cornhill. Rode in with fellow Norton resident Richard Stiff. Join large jolly group of assorted size cyclists: Justin, Peter H, Deane, Neil, Jonathan Howe, Adi, Alan Trolove, Richard Stiff, Paul Callow, SJH, Peter S-W, Ron F.
This Cyclists' Dozen set off on the first stage of the Suffolk Punch from Nowton but then diverged to end up in Long Melford, then took Bull Lane out eastwards to end up at Semer, and Hollowtrees Farm Shop. Shortly after leaving Bury, it became obvious that though there had, indeed, been no rain, the land drainage in the bit of Suffolk we chose to cross had meant dribbles of water on many corners had become solid shiny ice. Why did we come across theses hazards at the same time as being overtaken by cars? The frequency of the calls for both ice and potholes led Jonathan to observe that it might be more efficient to call out when the road was clear.

An interesting paradox: though the temperature was 4 degrees lower than any we've observed this (hard) winter, my hands felt no more painful - in fact far better than last week. This reminds me of a survey a couple of years ago which found that, when asked which temperature was colder, minus nine or minus two, the majority plumped for minus 2. It seems that the problem was that when measuring hotness plus 20c is hotter than plus 2c - so the bigger number will always be hotter (whichever side of zero you are)

Arrived at Hollowtrees without event (as far as I can remember) and rather stretched the Sunday 'B' team behind the counter (apart from the lady in charge). Richard Stiff made a brave effort to cheer up Neil, Deane and Peter (see left). Ron Fisher held Justin and Jonathan spellbound with tales of Australia (below right) and Adi explained to Peter S-W and Alan just what they really ought to be doing in a club run (below right). No sooner had we finished, and risen from our tables than the Cappuccino Ride arrived - in strength, there were 18 of them. Thirty Wheelers awheel at the same time; brilliant. Less brilliant was the record of punctures and crashes (including Sharon's first tumble) they experienced, but they all looked OK superficially

The 12 of us set off south, then swung down to the Sudbury - Bildeston road, and pedalled, through the sunshine, for home, using the more important roads to avoid any more ice hazards. Some way before Bildeston I began to lose power and the excellent Mr Dykes gave me the occasional push to get me back on. Well, at began as occasional, only being needed on the steep climbs, but graduated to the slight inclines and, finally, on the the flat. The problem was that my legs didn't want to do the revs necessary to achieve 23 mph even if I was being pushed.
Neil was rewarded with lunch chez nous. Justin later told me than Neil had a touch of 'tennis elbow' the following week - I remain sceptical, but I know that I was knackered on Monday. 53 miles for me, and just under 17mph. SJH

3 March 2010. Keep Taking the Tabards

".....and then my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils"

A rather different Wednesday. As people always say (always, always, always) "It's all in a good cause". And a very, very good cause this one is. Peter Heath has been involved for quite a while in with Marie Curie Cancer Care, who provide end of life care for terminal patients at their homes, 24 hours a day.

I've never done this before, and had no idea what to expect - apart from standing still, NOT rattling my collecting vessel, NOT shouting, accosting or harassing, not standing near to one's partner in collection (thus no talking amongst ourselves), and having to wear a TABARD (snappy title above, copyright Justin Wallace) - oh, and I believe that it is permissible to smile, look friendly and approachable. I know, I know, but I think that I may have just about risen to the challenge.

Ann Fish was to be my opposite number, the other side of the Marks and Spencer portals. We met at the nerve centre of MCCC in (ironically?) Well Street at 08.45. Ann chose a warm white hat decorated with a Crowd, a Host of daffodils. I managed to escape with a powder blue cap had a similar crop, which I hoped would be fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Smile muscles limbered and deployed, we took our posts as the clock above Moyses Hall struck nine. "clink" - Ann gets the first contribution. And the second and third. Will I be faced with inadequate ignominy? Explaining to Peter my total inability to charm cash out of the passing crowd? Where is Neil when you need him?
I watch the host, all keen to complete their quotidian tasks, nipping in to Marks & Sparks for knickers and sarnies and chance remarks from friends reminding (with a start) that time's unwinding - already, March. And then they emerge with loaded bags to be reminded of mortality by two, cold collectors, they recognise the yellow, know the name. Where's my change? I'll make it a note, they helped Mum (and Grandad, too)
"you look cold, wouldn't like to do what you're doing"
"Here's one for Mum and one for Dad" (that's tenners, not coins)
"They do more than any other"
"I've got a Direct Debit, but take this, now, as well"
Widows' mites are a common theme (widows might and many do)

Nearly an hour goes slowly by, and the clock corrects me with the quarter-chime; that's fifteen minutes gone, not fifty. More shoppers, the Market Traders have to break off from their gossip more often, my cash container starts to actually feel heavy; I notice Ann easing her back by leaning on the litter bin, moving from leg to leg (in my head I hear Sharon "Engage your core, deep breath, ears, shoulders, hips in line, spine in neutral").

Mr President Picking and First Lady Brenda arrive - time to stop! In the end, the time went quite quickly and, with tacit permission to look at everyone passing (the majority of eyes swing to side or down, avoiding contact) I find that I notice a great deal more about the composition of the market day crowd in Bury St Edmunds. If I was a physio or osteopath, I would be in despair at the posture and movement of those who don't appear to have any ailment (yet). The different levels of effort put into appearance, and the effect of the result on perception (make mental notes to throw out several mis-shaped favourite items of clothing); the shambling swagger of young men - in essence, this is unchanged since time began and magically disappears with time (for the majority). I leave the last word to Peter, from his email of thanks

"Thanks very much for volunteering to help this year and thank goodness we had a dry day. The total raised was £1499, a brilliant effort and £600 more than last year but with 7 more collectors. You did very well yourself collecting £65:91, a great total, very well done.

The sum raised will be used within Suffolk and will pay for 75 hours of expert nursing care for those far less fortunate that ourselves. Thanks for making a difference to their comfort and for supporting their families"

SJH.

Tuesday 2 March. Five go out in the Sun.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it’s the Sun! – 2 March 2010

Four regular Wednesday riders, faced with the prospect of missing their midweek miles due to helping out with a Wednesday charity collection in town, opted to get out on the Tuesday instead. Weather wise, it worked out well.

Forming up outside the West Suffolk Wheelers’ Thurston HQ (the inside was full of cigarette smoking school kids. But there, we do try to be an inclusive club and school bike sheds don’t have ‘behinds’ any more) were Peter Heath, Gareth Doman, Richard Seggar, Neil Dykes and Justin Wallace.

The early morning frost coupled with a chilly north westerly made for a cold start. The chosen destination was Clare, later modified to Newmarket after Justin suggested a new route that would avoid the floods at Kentford. The change had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that en route Peter pointed out that Sarah didn’t work at the Clare Deli on Tuesdays.

As the group made its way through Livermere, Ingham and West Stow, the sun gained strength and a wonderful spring day appeared like a light at the end of a very long, snowy, cold, wet tunnel. The chilly breeze was still there but the sun more than made up for it.

The flat warm-up continued on through Cavenham, Tuddenham, Herringswell, Kennet and Kentford before a right turn in Moulton led the riders up the long drag that ends with the fine view down to the Newmarket Gallops. The swift descent across the Warren Hill Gallops, between lines of highly priced horsemeat, would have been a picture for anyone standing at the top with a focused camera; particularly if the odd spooked horse had been in the picture. Those stable lads are certainly adept at maintaining contact with the saddle under any circumstances.

The forecourt of Coffee & Co was basking in the sun and extra chairs and a table were hurriedly added to the already fully occupied compliment outside. It felt strange sitting there in the sun after the winter we have all endured - that strange sensation of warmth on the body.

And now for some more hills. Justin’s route took the group up Duchess Drive – scene of many a road race finish. And as this year is the 33rd anniversary of Neil’s big win on the hill in a junior road race, he asked the group to help him re-enact the final metres (or yards as they were then). We all obliged and made sure he crossed the summit first. Apparently on the big day he had been in a break that had been caught at the bottom of the climb, only to stay in the bunch and sprint to yet another win. Modesty prevented him from talking about the day for no more than 40 minutes or so.

The route took us past the very impressive pile of bricks that is Kirtling Tower. This extract from Peter’s informative email gives you all the facts you need to know on it, and some more besides.

"The castle-like structure we passed at Kirtling shows on the OS map as Kirtling Tower, the only surviving relic of Kirtling Hall, built in 1536. Rich said it looked like a new build so that's not too far out Rich! It was renovated in the 19thC and perhaps touched up since then. It was a gatehouse to the original hall, the latter demolished in 17th C. If that is the gatehouse, would have loved to see the hall.

If you follow the link (above) go on to page two which tells more about the North family what built it. The guy was an adviser to Henry VIII it says."

We also passed a Glebe House. A Glebe was an area of land, ( field or fields) given to a member of the clergy who could earn his income from it through rents, crops and so on. I'm not sure if any clergy had a Glebe House or whether the current owners have named it so because it stands on Glebe Land. This website doesn't mention the house, at least I think the house was in Kirtling parish....not sure.

A left turn led us through the very picturesque village of Upend - looking splendid in the midday sunshine. We don’t often end up riding through Upend from this direction and it made a pleasant change. Onwards and upwards through Ousden (no blue plaque on the wall of the Edgars’ house yet. Should we all write to our MPs?) and back along the Suffolk Punch route. Mutterings from TomTom about the hills. Shame really, especially as he’d been given the morning off from navigating duties.

Coming down the lane into Hawstead, Neil’s tyre, which is as thin as a ‘Waffer’ thin mint (fans of Monty Python’s Mr Creosote sketch in ‘The Meaning of Life’ will understand) succumbed to a Suffolk flint. After help with undoing the valve knob and the use of Gareth’s powerful hands to replace that awkward last 10% of the tyre, we were rolling again.

As we re-entered the environs of Thurston at almost 1.45, Neil, Peter and Justin had clocked up 56 miles, Gareth and Richard a few more.

The entertaining adventures in this article were brought to you by members of the midweek riders’ group; whose mission statement is: "We do the miles, so you don’t have to". Copyright SJH

Justin Wallace

Sunday the Last of February. Three Men and a Soaking.

Wet. But Hey! It's not freezing, there's no ice or snow to dodge, I have mudguards and waterproof (ish) clothes.

"John had
great big waterproof boots on,
John had
a great big waterproof hat,
John had
a great big waterproof Macintosh,
And that, (said John), is that! ..."
(AA Milne)

We were just Mike Bowen, Peter Stephenson-Wall and I. The rain wasn't super heavy, but it was persistent, and being blown from the North Norwest. Mike said he'd thought of going to Long Melford. So we went Saxham - Cavenham - Mildenhall and back. 48 miles for me, in about 3h 12m. Only after I had returned Mike's bottle (that he had been kind enough to lend me because a senior moment had resulted in leaving mine in the kitchen) and phoned home to say I'd be about 20 minutes, did I start to feel at all cold. It was my hands and, by the time I reached home I thought that I would need help prizing them off the handlebars. I was VERY worried about puncturing during that last few miles. Peter was quite reluctant to head back to Bury, having really got into the groove. With only six months experience of cycling, and no other sporting past, I worry that we'll all be in trouble when he gets the hang of it!

As Mike and I paused for the photo shoot (well, I paused, and sent Mike off up the road to do the ride-past) I must say that the little house in the photo below with the smoke curling from its chimney looked very inviting.

Bath was fantastic; toast and marmite on the rack, a steaming cup of black coffee and the Sunday Paper. AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhh.


SJH