We shall have to raise a glass to absent friends tonight.
And a teapot!
No teapots were troubled in the course of our enjoyment.
Nelson's Blood was quaffed, Golden Boars were slain, Puck's Folly's were correctly pronounced, and Winter Ales were, well, wintry and ale-like.
Nobody fell in the Chelmer and Blackwater Navigation, despite the best efforts of our new attendee, Steve, who fell near it on the way there, and chief who fell (very comically) at the same point on the way back.
Two p*nct*res were mended, hopefully the second time we finally got out the flint that caused it (only time will tell if chief gets home without another faery visitation).
We also got a very convincing sale spitch form the landlord of the Maltsters Arms at Heybridge (which ahs been on my personal list for a while (... c.f.
one of the first routes I cooked up).
A little under 13 miles, mostly (mildly) off-road, in great company.
Oh, and after judicious goading, OD went through the lake I dodged earlier in the day. chief then sprinted through at at least 17mph on his Dawes tourer, leaving myself and Steve unable to chicken out without losing too much face.