I am sad to report that there was no discussion about mudflaps at the Hurdlemaker. There was, however, plenty of the usual nonsense and an initiation.
I turned up in the beer garden just as Tomsk was unloading his, notably, geared bike (there must be a big ride coming up this year...). In the pub I found OD, Huggy, Tippers, Jane and Jane's Personal Photographer just about to join Mr and Mrs Jaber who were in the middle of a romantic candlelit dinner for two. No one saw Jiber arrive or leave by bike so suspicion abounds that he simply travelled in the team car with his kit.
OD was in a particularly mischievous frame of mind, which always makes for an entertaining evening. It seems he is now going to go fixed; not because of the Zen of it but because he wants to buy a Pompino and give it an appropriately vulgar name. Then he remembered that Jane had not been initiated which prompted him to buy a round of pickled eggs and salt and vinegar crisps (for those who partake in such things anyway). Sadly for him, it transpired that Jane really liked pickled eggs, which is never as much fun.
Meanwhile Jane's Personal Photographer was doing a grand job with the kitty. Between us we sampled Wibblers' Craft Stoat, Darkstar's Hophead and Mighty Oak's Hop Music (Tippers described it as having vanilla notes - groan
). Hophead narrowly edged the Quaffers' Choice Award. We noted that the punful times continue at the Hurdlemakers next week when they have Hoptimistic and Hop Black on the pumps.
By the time it came to leave, the temperature had dropped considerably. When we went to the Hurdlemakers in the depths of winter it was snowing when we left. It was dry last night but, if anything, colder. I had 3 degrees on my Garmin by the time I crossed the Strood, which doesn't feel like the middle of May. The civilised among us are looking forwards to the long balmy nights when we get to wear our sandals to the pub and put on socks for the way home.
