As the nights start to draw in so thoughts inevitably turn to the MEMWNS occasional lecture series. Imagine the University of the Third Age meets the Chuckle Brothers and you are probably about there.
Who can forget last year's fascinating series which included such gems as; Hotblack's "Cable stretch - an in depth analysis in two parts", Tomsk's "The Hedgerow Vagrant - finding the right ditch for a bivvy" and, somewhat bizarrely, Joergen's "Mixing the beats - why So Solid Crew needed 119BPM for 21 seconds".
I am particularly looking forward to Psyclist's "Wild Bears - fear or flight response, titanium or steel ?" but first up for this season was Soupy's "Tour de France - the view from the inside". Unlike most of our lectures, this one was not only an actual thing but interesting. Watching the cricket highlights last night all I could think of was the cricketing equivalent of Soupy writing out "men with Steve Smith crying masks" on a timecode sheet.
The venue was the Chequers at Goldhanger and also present were the Hustler, Hotblack, Huggy, Tomsk, Joergen and Pierre Jean Van Stabel.
I joined the Witham peloton for the usual circuitous route to the pub which followed the classic OD method of setting off in the completely opposite direction and then turning further away just as you start to loop towards the final destination. On arriving in Goldhanger we spotted a grumpy northerner having his "tea" in the village's other pub, the Cricketers - apparently the Chequers only do dinner. I did suggest we join him for a quick pint but was shot down by the rest of the peloton who were keen to bag a good spot for the lecture.
We sampled Woodforde Wherry, Sneck Lifter by Jennings and something else. Sneck Lifter took the coveted Quaffers' Choice Award.
Somewhat surprisingly, we did manage a bit of chat about the French Ride. Even more surprisingly it was Huggy that led the chat. When it comes to that Ride, Huggy is a bit like a reformed smoker irritably telling people off for making his clothes smell as he walks past them smoking outside. Despite being an ancien, he normally shuts down any related conversation and rails against rides over 50km. Perhaps he is growing soft in his old age or, more likely, with two weeks to go he didn't have much option. Anyway, he succeeded in terrifying the Hustler with his detailed account of how he had nearly felt hungry at one point but had just managed to find a five course meal with proper linen in time. Meanwhile, Jean nodded as confidently as one would when one has ridden the distance to the moon in the last six months.
I had a tide to catch so I had to dash off promptly. That didn't happen. Fortunately it was still a dry ride home but probably only by a few minutes.
Part of the reason I was late in departing was that I and the others were rooted to the spot in disbelief as "more miles, less beer" Tomsk calmy climbed into his team car and ordered "home Dan". Somehow the world doesn't seem the same any more.
Anyway, we will miss these balmy nights in February.