Into the fog with the fogeys
Local venues are particularly welcome when the weather turns wintery and the Swan at Totham is one of the closest MEMWNS favourites to my offshore lair. However, what should have been an easy 12 mile spin to the pub, ended up being a bit more adventurous than planned. The first problem was an unexpected tidal surge. I wasn't the only one caught out by the road being covered in over a foot of water when we were supposed to be heading to neap tides. As I stood on the pavement, trying to decide whether I could cycle along the pavement without wrecking my bike in salt water and then "wash" it off in the inevitable post-deluge puddles to follow, my decision was made for me. There is always somebody who thinks they are smarter than everyone else. This driver thought nothing of the fact there was a large queue of traffic before a tidal causeway, drove past the queue and hit the water at almost full speed. The wave of water that thudded into his radiator grill and cascaded over his roof probably brought him to his senses and he slowed to a virtual standstill as he sheepishly headed over. Meanwhile, at the side of the road, his bow wave had caught me and my bike square on so there was little point in worrying about a few inches of seawater.
Safely across, I realised my glasses had fogged up while I was waiting. The problem was that when I removed them, the visibility was no better. The fog was so thick it was difficult to see the road - never mind anything ahead. Eventually, I had to use a zoomed in map on the GPS just to ensure I didn't inadvertently miss a junction or cross one. It was also properly cold for the first time in a long time.
The pub was a welcome sight when I got close enough to see it.
Inside, I found Tomsk and Robert Woodget in deep conversation. A measure of just how foggy it was outside was that we did not see Hotblack's light show until he was at the window of the pub.
As Hotblack joined us, the penny dropped; I was gatecrashing the annual Golden Oldies night - no wonder I felt so young and sprightly. We can now add the three cyclists to Monty Python's three Yorkshiremen. First up it was who had the fewest gears on their bike when they cycled Sutton Bank in the 1960s, we then moved through; worst brakes, heaviest touring set up, least waterproof clothing and most unreliable lights. As an encore, we had a wide-ranging debate on who used the least tech. It was almost a relief when it was time for Hotblack's Half Hour. This week's powerpoint presentation was titled "Grease; viscosity not the film". Who knew there was quite so much to learn about lubing spherical balls.
These days the Swan carries fewer ales but they always have at least two local brews on tap and Oscar Wilde Mild in bottles. We sampled Crouch Vale's Brewers Gold and Mighty Oak's Captain Bob. Both showed well enough to merit return sampling. Even better, they were under £4 a pint and the pub was busy.
Before we knew it, the clock had somehow sped ahead to closing time and we were standing outside in 3 degrees, fog and damp air. You could hear my fellow athletes wheezing as they headed off up the road.
My journey home, or at least what I could see of it, was mercifully uneventful. It even cleared up a bit when I reached the coast.
It seems that winter is finally upon us. The Swan has to be a regular venue for the eastern contingent. Maybe we could aim for a rolling roster of venues; SH, Swan, Sun, 'Spoons - other venues not beginning with S are also possible.
