What a difference a week makes.
Didn't we all just know that as Step 3 was drawing to a close and we were looking forward to sitting indoors again, the weather would finally turn in favour of sitting outside.
A combination of a central venue and favourable weather always draws out the crowds (and the sandals) and last night was no exception.
Spurred on by the remains of a tailwind and the imminent threat of a thunder shower, I arrived at the Swan early again - technically I arrived at a different road entirely, having managed to take a wrong turn, and was fortunate to spot the familiar figure of Carlos as he chewed his bars in an effort to gain even more speed out of his Ti dream machine. Obviously I pretended to have been looking for other riders rather than admit to the navigational error as I puffed after him.
We found Sir Robert Helpmann already settled in and fiddling with his mullet and were soon joined by Robert Fitzroy. it didn't take long for us to create something of a muddle with our sample ordering - possibly not helped by Sir Robert telling the barkeep she ought to be more kangaroo. Order was restored with the arrival of the famous Witham peloton (Huggy, the Hustler and the rest of Jemango) - the faint swoosh of a well-ordered fast group and a carefully choreographed crunch of gravel announcing their presence just before they hove into view. The Hustler took immediate charge of the situation by establishing a kitty and an order of service and then bringing Huggy sharply into line when he tried to go off piste and miss the first sample in favour of a later tipple. The Hustler brooks no nonsense but his iron rule is without fear or favour. Tomsk then arrived as the sole representative of the Wild Westerners - Josser having been stricken with a late case of CBA.
That left us waiting for the repurposed Ambassador Desiato and his return from his first voyage of discovery. His mission; Suffolk, the final frontier, to explore new venues, to seek out new ales and new covered outdoor seating venues and to go boldly without using split infinitives where no ACME rider has gone before. When he arrived back from the strange new land known as the Shoulder of Mutton he brought not only pictures for us to voo on a compooter but even a menu to show what the local population eats - remarkably similar to our own diet in fact.
We thought that was us for the night but we had reckoned without OD's genius for making the simple complicated. Poor Christophe had fallen under his spell and been treated to a madcap dash through the lanes of mid-Essex circling the Swan in a series of loops until they eventually made it. By my calculations it is about 5km from Christophe's Cabin to the Swan, how he managed to clock up 51km on that journey, OD alone knows.
A high turnout affords an opportunity for some of our special interest clubs to form break out groups. Last night I was bamboozled as usual by the Using the Internet to Show Pictures of Birds Nests, Weather Stations and Other Stuff Caucus, the Round Ring Society - a bit like the Flat Earth Society but they don't believe in oval chain rings rather than a spherical planet, the Talk Nonsense With OD Discussion Forum and, inevitably, the Ti Circle droning on about the lack of road buzz and how shiny their bits are.
We are lucky to have such a fine bunch of people as the QCC in amongst all the technical mumbo jumbo. It is a plain-talking group whose only agenda is to spread joy and harmony through the consumption of real ale. This is something neatly encapsulated in its simple mission statement: The Quaffers' Choice Committee is a social and community development organisation for bike riding ale enthusiasts and by bike riding ale enthusiasts Our work is about building stronger communities, neighbourhoods, and economies, and we believe that bike riding ale enthusiasts are an important leverage point in that work. The Quaffers' Choice Committee's mission is to cultivate vibrant communities by connecting bike riding ale enthusiasts with the skills, information, and services they need to make informed choices about bike riding ale sampling and about living life.
Last night we sampled; Woodforde's Wherry, Crouch Vale's Yakima Gold, Crouch Vale's Brewers Gold and Mighty Oak's Captain Bob - at least most of us did, even the Hustler's authoritarian tendencies are no match for prankster-in-chief OD as he weaves his mayhem into merlot drinking while dragging the easily-influenced along with him. Yakima took the coveted award.
Somewhere along the line and somehow I am now Carlos's designated carer, entrusted with seeing him most of the way home on a Wednesday. It has not been a complete success to date but we do seem to be getting better. One of the problems is that the great man is so quick, it is not always easy to shout directions at him as he disappears off the wrong way. Last night it was me who nearly took a wrong turn - having a rider up the road is not always a bad thing. What a pleasure it was to ride back on a windless and still warm evening and to return offshore before 11.30. These are the golden nights of MEMWNS.
