Les Mecs de Merlot
EER is an agile organisation well able to adapt to the changing requirements of its members but even we have our limits.
Even such limited forward planning as we tolerate is always subject to late alteration. So it was that we took the decision only a few hours prior to lift off to divert from the Oddie to the Sun at Feering - on the basis that the Sun had answered the 'phone and were not advertising that they closed at 8pm.
I took a fairly circuitous route (passing the Chequers at Great Tey which seems to be re-opening next week) and still only managed to be a few minutes late. As number 7 to arrive, I was immediately relegated to a table on my own which seemed a popular move. Eventually Jemango took sympathy and moved over or, more accurately, they moved over because Loopy had arrived on her bike and was given a place of honour next to Gentleman J.ack. Our table of 4 was completed with the arrival of Dylan Thomas's hard-living nephew. Loopy and GJ were the King and Queen of revels at the rowdy table next to us, also comprising; the Hustler, Hotblack and NSYNC.
The set-up at the Sun was about the best we have seen in our lockdown travels. We were in their courtyard under a fairly permanent looking awning and there were powerful gas patio heaters killing polar bears but keeeping us toasty. It was also far less cold than the last few weeks, a good night for early April certainly. Jem, who has a cruel streak, suggested that if things did get colder, we could simply "accidentally" set the Hustler afire to keep warm. I did try to stand up for my wingman but Hotblack was too busy deciding which flavour of marshmallows to toast on the resultant bonfire for me to make much of an impact. Luckily for the Hustler, the heaters were on for most of the evening and when ours went out it became difficult to set him alight without arousing suspicion.
There were a limited number of Shepherd Neame ales on offer and no guest ales but we made the most of sampling Spitfire Ale, Spitfire Lager and Whitstable Bay. Judging was complicated by a heated debate between the two permanent members of the QCC on the premises. Hotblack is still serving his period of purdah after retiring from the professional world of beer commuting so he was out and appointing NDubz may have caused problems later if our Office Junior's nose had been put of joint which left us a choice between Taff Thomas and Carlos (in case anyone is wondering about Loopy and Jem; Loopy was on Estrella and Jem on merlot). The Hustler made a strong case for Taff but, and this is something I rarely have to do, I had to exercise my right of veto which inevitably led to some bad feeling. Sometimes chairing the QCC can be a lonely place. The fact that my decision was strongly vindicated a short while later brought me no pleasure but it did bring an apology from the Hustler and our normal good relations were able to resume. Which brings me on to the incident which threatens the very institution of MEMWNS and its EER wing. Over the years we have come to tolerate Jem's more unfortunate lifestyle choices; she was led astray early in her MEMWNS career by one of our more colourful elders and his own vices (which were grandfathered into the MEMWNS collective) so we have let it slide. What we cannot and will not tolerate is Jem actively promoting that lifestyle to our younger and more impressionable members (in fact it is enshrined in our constitution - Clause 28 of which reads" members shall not intentionally promote the consumption of non-standard beverages or publish material with the intention of promoting such beverages" or "promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of non-standard beverages as a pretended Wednesday evening norm". Imagine our surprise then when we turned round to see Jem and Dai Thomas chinking their glasses of merlot and taking a selfie of their delighted faces. As I shuddered at the audacity of their behaviour, I could see the haunted look on the Hustler's face as he recalled his advocacy for Dai's temporary elevation to the QCC not an hour earlier. Poor Carlos just seemed to shrink in front of us but it is not his fault and he should not be held accountable for the foibles of others. Discipline is way above my pay grade but we had an elder with us last night and I am certain he and the others are in emergency conclave today. I won't prejudice the outcome of their deliberations by commenting further but I know that the Hustler and Hotblack were already making placards and planning their campaign hats and stickers (Make MEMWNS Great Again). The fact that Spitfire Ale took the coveted award is almost an afterthought.
Before that bombshell we had enjoyed a pleasant evening with an interesting presentation from Jem to our ornithological sub-group It was also fascinating to hear from GJ on his developing plans for his new steed. His latest concept is a grouping of small sarsen rocks and bluestones on his front rack. By aligning these with the sun, GJ hopes to be able to solve the problem of knowing which season he is riding in and make some rudimentary progress towards determining the time of day if he is riding close to midsummer. I waited on at the end for the advertised meeting of the track and field society only to be disappointed to find it was not a meeting of fellow athletes discoursing on nutrition plans and the importance of stretching but rather an in depth discussion on the relative merits of various 1980s modified cars and how their double cams sent more horsepower to the rear wheels when the differential transposer was tweaked with a sprocket wrench - the name of the society is a "witty" reference to Snetterton's Norwich straight leading to the infamous Crap 80s Car Corner where unfortunate racers leave the track and end up in a field of brassicas. Sometimes you can have too much fun, this was not one of those times.
Eventually Carlos and I parted from Hotblack and headed somewhat ponderously and certainly breathlessly up the mighty Feering Hill. As is often the case with Carlos and me, we soon missed a turning and ended up back on the main Tiptree road. "Do you know where you are to get home from here", asked Carlos. "Yes, but more to the point do you ?", I replied. He gave me that look of misplaced confidence that he has for such instances and zoomed off up the main road. Fortunately I managed to call him back and set him off in the correct direction for Colchester. Needless to say when I checked his strava track later, he had ended up doubling back after a strange diversion towards Haynes Green and had ridden our original planned route. At 7.5 degrees it was pleasant enough and were it not for the piles of kitty litter at the junctions, it would have been a relaxing ride home. I left the mainland just as the streetlights went out and, as if a switch had been thrown, it started raining at exactly the same moment.
Next week we are back to the rule of 30 as long as we all stay outdoors and keep our hugging to an acceptable level.
