Goodness! I've seen a pair of bars go while the bike was in motion, and it's a frightening thing. All thanks for your safe-keeping Mr 'Teef.
Well, apologies to Wowbagger - I did think it might be a bit hard on the wrists, but clearly I was wrong.
For so long it went so right. We wandered through southwest London (whichever way you slice it, no route out of London is a patch on Mitcham/Chipstead) and, after touching 100m above sea level for the first and only time just above Leatherhead, zoomed off the downs and along a near-deserted and moonlit A24 to Dorking and up the hill to the Blackbrook turn. Everybody looked in decent shape, and that 'relaaax' moment, on the descent to Blackbrook was all the better for realising that the breeze was getting up a bit and getting behind us.
As far as I know the only rider who didn't get to the Cabin Cafe in perfect shape was the numpty who put his foot in the water-filled hole in Rusper to see how deep it was - and then staggered on to the saturated verge to confirm that, yes, indeed, it was a burst water main....
Mark and his colleagues at the Cabin did a splendid job of getting us all sandwiched in and sandwiched up, and, after a bit of a prise to get one rider out of the cafe we rode through Horsham and its eleven junctions without and up to Tower Hill. We had a couple of retirees, people not feeling well, but the rest of us did catch a lovely sunrise (thankyou, Master Radius for the picture) on the flat road down through Coolham. And...the West Chiltington Variation, the bit of the route I wasn't keen on, seemed to come off splendidly, taking us in to Amberley where a dozen or so riders went for a little tour of the village and its hollyhocks.
So - so far so good. One rider pulled a stunt going on to the B2139 that will lead to his rustication, and, as if to prove that the road is indeed a nightmare, two boy racers came round a bend in the opposite direction with tyres squealing, causing Adrian to fear for my life. Fate was moving against us. Whether it was debris washed on to the road by the torrential rain of the night before I've no idea, but pffft! psschhht! pffft! and psschhht again as tyres expired one after another. TimO and Adrian dealt with these manfully, and BigSteev was so quick to fix his that his Doom is Sealed - TEC duties await. Once past Ford normal service resumed, and we rolled through the hydrangea heaven that is Felpham, arriving at the Boat House just before 9. I think eight punctures is twice our previous record - perhaps we've just been fortunate up to now.
So - much socialising, and much coffee drinking later I staggered on to the train with Colin, and fell in to happy discussion of the prospects for next season's Premiership. The great thing about football conversations is that there's no real neccessity to make sense, but you can't get away with that all of the time and I'm afraid my post-FNRttC impersonation of a husband was even more crap than usual. Sleep took me at about eight, but not before I'd completely failed to book a last minute holiday and dozed, slack-jawed on the sofa.
So, many thanks to TimO, Matthew, User10571, Jasper, Graham, Radius, Charlotte, ilovebikes and others whose efforts got us down there in good shape. As ever a real team effort.