Wot I did on Friday night, by Tim Hall, forty nine and three quarters.
Off to Scout camp near East Grinstead. Get the blighters settled in and cook some chipolatas. Wave goodbye to leader 1, as he goes off to work at Brighton railway depot. Wait for leader 2 to arrive from his work. Hand over, high tail it home, get changed and catch later train than usual to Victoria with Mrs. Hall and the Pino.
Straight to Sloane Square, not passing go, and wait for the pedaling masses. Watch tall blonde lady in short frock. Take a few pictures: Camera then goes on strike as the aforementioned pedaling masses pedal by. Jump on the back of the group, a position which we seem to keep most of the evening.
Play guess the route, and get it wrong. Again, a theme to be repeated through the night. The middle of Sutton. Young ladies in even shorter frocks than Sloane Square. Police dealing with drunks. A bottle is hurled in our direction by some uncouth fellows as we leave. I shout some correspondingly uncouth words back.
We set off in a bunch up the Mad Mile, spreading out as we trundle past Walton on the Hill, taking it easy, as instructed down Pebblecombe Hill. Top marks to Surrey's finest in the unmarked car as they went past the pedaling mass as it set off from the roundabout, pulled out onto the A25 and sat there with blue lights flashing, protecting us as we went.
Mrs. Hall (or the Queen Mum, as Simon would have it), made stately progress through Betchworth, Newdigate and Rusper. Something fell off the bike, but by the time I'd stopped it was 200 yards behind us on a dark lane. No chance of finding it, and the bike seemed OK.
Faygate, food, snooze for some, then off again. The hill up from the Hammer Ponds is nasty, brutish and short. It served to fight of an attack of the dozies though. More dark lanes , with bright (or overbright) tail lights. Then an extended mechanical stop. Part of the problem was that not only was the Bede Venerable, but the whole tyre was getting on a bit.
Upwards towards Devil's Dyke, with the pub hovering up in the sky like an spaceship. No, it did really. We used the 24 inch gear on the steeper parts, then didn't pedal for ages on the way to Brighton. Got split from the bunch on the final leg, so ended up going down a bus lane and getting gesticulated at.
FEB with Black Pudding and bubbly at the Madeira. Scoot to the station with Greg, to find it all gone wonky owing to a power failure. Train to Gatwick, then cycled the last bit home. Snooze for a couple of hours, then off to camp again.
AGTWHBA.
Pics
here