Maisha Marefu !
It all started out so well. I intercepted the famous Witham Peloton at Terling Road and then desperately tried to keep up as they swept towards the Spiritual Home in their usual close formation - it's amazing what a bit of enthusiasm about the destiination does for their speed.
For once then, I was there on time and possibly even early.
We were soon joined by the rest of our party and there were a couple of other tables of cyclists - one group looked very familiar and included the brother the Hairy Bikers don't like to mention and an audax legend (whom I was avoiding, having had to withdraw from the Woodman's Daughter prematurely). The other group consisted of a nice old boy who seemed to have brought his "niece" and his grandson out with him.
My "six" comprised the Hustler, the other bit of Jemango, OD, Hotblack and, latterly, Bobb - ie not one but two special appearances. Topics ranged from the Mid-Essex Golf Society to estate agents of North London in the 1980s via art house cinema. Carlos also entertained us with tales of his budding career as a cone removal operative. He promised to keep us informed of his approximate whereabouts so we coiuld all plan our journeys accordingly - Ipswich this week.
Carlos was also honoured with co-option to the Quaffers' Choice Committee - OD having been banned many years ago and Hotblack not eligible for reasons that nobody can remember. We sampled Ridleys Rite, Yakima Gold, Essex Boys and, for dessert, Oscar Wilde Mild. They were all excellent but the Yakima Gold took the coveted award - or at least so we thought. It's not often that we invoke Rule 74(a) of the Quaffers' Convention but extreme measures (geddit ?) call for special responses. So it was that the Committee re-convened after the departure of the Hustler but with the addition (via satellite link) of the Office Junior. But I am getting ahead of myself. Why the Rule 74(a) meeting you ask ? You will recall that last week I was joined by a young redneck guy who had brought his own beer with him and had generally made himself at home. Well, he was back this week and this time he had brought his own bottle of Ugandan Waragi. It would have been rude to refuse and it would have been unthinkable not to reverse our earlier decision and declare it the Quaffers' Choice (Rule 103(a)(iv) - at the discretion of the Committee non-ale products may be presented for judging where such products can be shown to have special or unique characteristics).
It was definitely warmer in the Outdoor Service Area this week as it was really the North Easterly Wind that was bringing the temperature outside down. It soon dawned on Carlos and me that we were riding north easterly all the way home, what joy. Carlos and I promised each other we would not rush off and leave the other man behind (well Carlos mainly, we thought it was pretty unlikely to be the other way around). Not long into our great trek home, that promise was to be tested and it was me who was fouind wanting. I admit to being slightly pleased with myself when I realised I had crested the first berg ahead of the great man. I even decided to wait for him to rub it in a bit. It took me a couple of minutes to realise that the now fading headlight behind me was not moving. Back I went (not all the way back obviously, I wasn't riding up that beast twice). Disaster had struck Carlos, his freewheel had disengaged on the climb and he now had uselessly spinning pedals. I like to think I am just the man to have on hand in a crisis but that north easterly was cold and stopping so early hadn't helped me build up much heat - so I said my farewells and left him. Carlos, by now sounding like a modern day Captain Oates, had assured me it was "but a short walk" back to his beloved's in Witham (it was about 9 miles). Meanwhile, I was too busy clipping back in to think of suggesting a taxi. If anyone happens to be driving between Witham and Littley Green today, I am sure he would be grateful for a lift for the last stretch. I would have done it but I had this report to write.
After that I had an uneventful and enjoyable ride home with the occasional pang of guilt about abandoning Carlos in his hour of need. By now the wind had abated to annoying and although the Garmin showed -1, it did not feel that cold as I crawled along the empty roads. Another late homecoming though. Next week, somewhere a bit more local to me and with a shorter walk home for Carlos is the order of the day.