A bit more detail to add to Psyclist's excellent report
Huggy, Tomsk, Christophe, Jiber, Oaky, the Hustler, Psyclist, Grey Sheep and I assembled at the 'Spoons (where all great adventures begin). Oaky and I started as we meant to go on and enjoyed a quick pint with breakfast.
The Tippers secret control was excellent this year. I particularly enjoyed the banana bread. The other cakes looked good but Huggy pretty much ate the whole tray of raspberry and white chocolate cake so it wasn't easy getting hold of any. We also picked up Tippers himself there.
The Thatchers Arms was a good lunch stop but being at the top of a hill it was a test for those of us without enough winter miles. Psyclist was not impressed with our fitness levels generally and mooted a series of training rides for next year's edition - the very thought !
Whilst eating lunch, I happened to look out of the window and saw a familiar figure making his way up the hill, it was the Straggler and for once he was not riding a 200 as well. He was a welcome addition to our merry band. Lunch is definitely a lot quieter without OD but at least we didn't have to listen to him "sing".
It was disturbingly chilly while Oaky and I were pitching our tents at the Compasses so we resolved to ensure that we had sufficient alcohol on board to see us through the night.
Golden Thread by Salopian won the Quaffers' Choice award but there was also an excellent Porter on - Pickled Walnut by Mighty Oak.
As is now customary, those of us who had bothered to dress properly made up a top table and left the riff raff to their own devices. As the night drew on it was eventually just the top table left. By this time Oaky and I had moved on to the wine list.
With only two campers, the after party was looking a bit threadbare but we managed to persuade Mr and Mrs Jiber to join us for our champagne in the beer garden. It was so cold that our champagne flutes were sliding off the table. Luckily we had a consultant engineer on hand and disaster was averted by the simple addition of some paper napkins under the glasses. Jiber left looking a little less than steady on his feet but luckily for him he was being whisked home by team car.
Oaky and I went off to our separate tents with the serious business of the brew off running through our minds. Oaky had already tried to sabotage my attempt by adding ice cubes to my water bottle
so I knew it was game on after my walkover victory last year - I had drunk two cups of tea and put my tent away by the time Oaky surfaced.
I heard the familiar Trangia rattle at about 9am, Oaky had managed to get up before me and was in pole position. He was also using some sort of French concoction instead of meths - fuel rods from a nuclear reactor judging by how quickly he was bringing his water to the boil. The brew off was soon lost and Oaky stood there looking smug with his coffee while I waited for my water to boil. I think he was eating his first bacon roll by the time my tea was ready.
And so another Epiphany ride was over. Although it was different this year with so few campers and so many struck down with man flu, it was no less fun than ever.