….and so it somehow came to pass that 12 foolhardy souls gathered at The Flower Pot in cool, wet and generally unpleasant conditions. It is alleged that I was the last to arrive (hence my scribing now), but it was a close-run thing because, as I pulled into the Car Park at 6.55, I was carved up by three mud-spattered ninja-cyclists who, after much unsavoury scraping and hosing down, revealed themselves to be Rodders, Jules and an old friend of Jules called Simon.
Anyway, in the 10 minutes that it took for the aforementioned bikes to be dismantled and stowed, Rodders ate his supper, Duds deposited the contents of his sinuses over various parking bays (one of which unfortunately contained Selwyn’s bike) and the rest of us stood getting colder and wetter. We eventually set off in two groups. The main pack (comprising Amanda, Duds, Jules, Kate, Pete, Rodders, Simon, Spider and Susie set off on their 5.1 mile (plus a bonus loop for the fitties) hill-fest with Selwyn, under orders from his doc, riding behind. Meanwhile, market-gardener extraordinaire Presso and I trundled off down a relatively gradient-free road towards Henley. After last week’s sartorial statements (although in Brett’s case I’m not sure quite what he was trying to say), this week’s attire was decidedly subdued. The "highlight" was Selwyn’s shorts, which he plainly inherited from Eric Morecambe.
Apparently at some stage Selwyn separated from the peloton and went to find, I think he said, Crocker’s End whilst Pete, concerned that the main group was still running away from the pub after 25 minutes, decided to turn back. Presso and I, with a disciplined regime of running for 10 minutes and then walking for 2, eventually arrived in Henley before heading for home along the towpath. At some stage in the middle of nowhere we bumped into a bloke called Dom (a mate of Presso and Baz, apparently), an encounter which provided a couple of minutes welcome respite and chat.
Pete was first back to the pub with the rest of us arriving in various states of saturated dishevelment over the next 25 minutes. The beer was reasonable, the snacks were plentiful and for once the service at The Flower Pot was half-decent (and the very pleasant barmaid was rather more than half decent). Having been obliged to leave first, I am not the best person to comment on the sparkling conversation and repartee, so I’ll let others provide those details.
Kate very kindly offered to organise next week’s run around the grounds of Cliveden, but since it would require us all to wear Burnham Joggers’ vests, it is actually going to be from The Dog and Badger at Medmenham!
David
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