Fab Foodie
hanging-on in quiet desperation ...
- Location
- Kirton, Devon.
What a bonus then!
FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast - Southend on Sea 7th November
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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clarion
Guru
- Location
- Exiled from Hyperborea
I think I can discern some things just beyond the mudguard as well 
GVSAM7
Regular
This is what sums it up for me. Thank you DZ and FNRttC peeps for the lovely sleepless nights. Looking forward for the next chapter and hope to ride with all of you soon on another adventure.
Spinning up my pedals
Listening to the chain flow
Metal under tension
Begging me to push and go
Heading into twilight
Spreading out her wheels tonight
She got me jumping off the saddle
And shoving into override.
Breathing in fire
Burning my lungs and chest
Racing heart desire
Pumping blood into legs
You will never know what you can do
Until you climb up as high as you can go
You'll never know of what is really you
Until you push it far and more
Even though out along the edge
Is always where I burn to be
Tonight was all about Friends
Riding in empty lanes and scenery
Spinning up my pedals
Listening to the chain flow
Metal under tension
Begging me to push and go
Heading into twilight
Spreading out her wheels tonight
She got me jumping off the saddle
And shoving into override.
Breathing in fire
Burning my lungs and chest
Racing heart desire
Pumping blood into legs
You will never know what you can do
Until you climb up as high as you can go
You'll never know of what is really you
Until you push it far and more
Even though out along the edge
Is always where I burn to be
Tonight was all about Friends
Riding in empty lanes and scenery
U
User10571
Guest
I saw you giving it max on Borough High Street on Saturday morning as I transitioned from picking up my pork & apple bangers from Ginger Pig in Borough Market, and finding myself in Al Barone for breakfast.
You looked like you were in the zone.
It felt best to leave you undisturbed.....
I think I would've freaked you - I was in civvies and holding on to a Brommie.
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
Agree. Dave was in the zone. Dreaming of Italian friends I think...he was going on the Pisa with them later. (They must have had fun, running behind his bike so he could take a few pics for the album!)
thom
____
- Location
- The Borough
Incidentally, that Gin Palace belongs to
edited for correctness...
Last edited:
clarion
Guru
- Location
- Exiled from Hyperborea
Ahem
Shahid Khan, not Sadiq. Sadiq Khan is the Labour high flier who seems to have blotted his copybook with (allegedly) using his mobile phone whilst driving.
Shahid Khan, not Sadiq. Sadiq Khan is the Labour high flier who seems to have blotted his copybook with (allegedly) using his mobile phone whilst driving.
thom
____
- Location
- The Borough
Indeed - coincidentally it appears he answers to the name "Shad" as well but I doubt actually that explains anything about his mooring location.
Late to this thread and it’s all been said far more eloquently than I can manage, so I’ll just leave it with a simple thanks to Simon et al for leading some very cool rides over the last few years.
Having seen the esteemed attendee list for this final foray I was tempted to break my boycott of any ride to Southend but other plans got in the way. Plan B was to get the train to Southend early doors and roll back as part of the Grace convoy. Riding home from the pub late Friday night I suspected this was a non-runner and so it turned out. Plan C involved the perfect compromise - a lie in, ride over to ABO, catch up with those on the ride over a couple of pints, head down to the New Den and watch Brentford get one over Millwall. Most of Plan C actually fell into place, barring one fairly important element. tbh the die was cast when I discovered Sierra Nevada on tap in All Bar One - having recently spent a month in the Pacific NW messing about on a bike, Sierra Nevada had become my beer of choice to accompany whatever Man vs Food style meal I could locate in the evening.
It was a very fine afternoon though, lovely to catch up with so many faces from rides past and reminisce over the fnrttc legacy. A shame to miss Mike e, but hopefully there will be other rides.
A few random fnrttc thoughts…
Best moment: Whitstable ride, sunrise/mist/sheep/electricity pylons. To the few that were there with Mike fixing a puncture it was magic. To the other 50 folk enjoying breakfast at that point it probably sounded a bit ‘so what’. You had to be there.
Best ride: a jaunt to Newhaven with a small group before everyone applied for passports and started riding to foreign climes. We all knew the way, it rained, we were able to sneak into Gatwick and no Tecs or waymarkers were needed. Just a ride for the fun of it.
Smuggest moment: at the back of the ride going through Aldgate I crossed paths with an inebriated office party casualty – handbag stolen and no funds/phone to get home. Gave her 20 quid for the train and tbh thought that would be that. Got a very sweet letter (probably the last one I received) a couple of weeks later thanking me for apparently saving her life, enclosing £40 and a promise to come on a future ride. Karma and all that kicked in and I suspect West Ham were fighting relegation that year, so I dropped the cash off with the Bobby Moore cancer charity. Don’t think she ever showed for a ride, but it made my evening – didn’t redeem Southend though.
Most surreal moment: a close call between the 3am Dartford Tunnel experience on my first outing and riding apparently aimlessly through a housing estate en route to Brighton, only for the ride to come to a sudden stop outside a seemingly random flat, everyone trouped inside to find that the owner had cleared out all his furniture and put on a spread to feed 50 people. We ate his food, emptied his fridge, and made a mess of his flat, then all left without bothering to clear up. Just like a regular house party except you didn’t have to bring a bottle. Tourist Tony of course - chapeau.
Best breakfast: close run thing between Whitstable and Bognor. Islington-on-Sea just shades it courtesy of the enhanced refreshment facilities.
Worst breakfast: three way tie – Southend/Brighton/Mumbles. Just where do they get those sausages? Jamie wouldn’t approve.
Best half way stop: I’ve never been one for food at this stage and tea tends to be... tea. But the guy who runs the café at Chatham (?) en route to Whitstable, Kieran I think, stands out as a fine host. No one straight and sober has any right to be that cheerful at 4am, perhaps he wasn’t…
Bleakest moment: wet and cold in Woolwich (is it actually possible to feel good in Woolwich?) after a slow puncture strewn start to the ride. The thought occurred that I could have walked from HPC as quickly. Or I could be at home in bed…
Most abuse from random punters: riding though the badlands of SE London on one of the earlier routes east. I hadn’t been called a c**t that often since West Ham were at the original Den back in the ‘80’s. Given the locale it was probably the same people doling out the verbals.
Best train ride home: no contest – Tim O both educating and entertaining a group of us on space travel to Mars a couple of years back. Brilliant.
Karma revisited – most profitable ride: found £400 on the pavement riding home from the station one sunny Saturday morning a few years back. A highly developed catholic guilt complex compelled me to visit the nearest police station where confusion reigned over the correct procedure as apparently no one had ever handed in (or checked for lost) money before. A few weeks later they called to say it was mine if I wanted to pick it up. I dutifully tucked it away inside John Peel’s biography thinking it might come in handy as an emergency fund some time. I was burgled not long afterwards and in their search for something valuable amongst the junk in my house the intruders had ransacked all the cupboards etc tossing the contents onto the floor… with one exception; John Peel’s life story, valuable content and all was left standing alone on the shelf. The stash remains in situ. I vaguely remember answering exam questions on the time value of money at some point, I presumably failed.
Bikes used - three. First one trashed when I ran into the back of a BMW in Barnes. If you are going to have an accident on a bike I can thoroughly recommend Barnes over say, Mile End – not only did the Beemer owner show no concern for the obvious damage to her car, but the lady in the Merc following insisted that her husband, who was apparently a dentist, examine my mouth which was by now bleeding profusely. To be fair he didn’t seem quite so keen not being in possession of those funky latex gloves so beloved of some. Second bike nicked from Brentford on a Friday night, presumably as payback for a fnrttc non-attendance. And thirdly a Condor Percorso just to make Mr Walnuts jealous. Davy, uncensored pics of Phil Wood hubs and Campag Record running kit are available for a reasonable fee.
Number of punctures: none. A similar figure for mudguards deployed and Brooks saddles used. Not saying there is any correlation…
Number of times I fell off: none. Well, until Saturday at least – riding back a tad pissed from ABO and managed to come off in the middle of that water feature by City Hall. Looked stupid in front of all the tourists and it hurt…a lot. A fitting end to my fnrttc.
Tl;dr...
Soundtrack: Teenage Kicks
Having seen the esteemed attendee list for this final foray I was tempted to break my boycott of any ride to Southend but other plans got in the way. Plan B was to get the train to Southend early doors and roll back as part of the Grace convoy. Riding home from the pub late Friday night I suspected this was a non-runner and so it turned out. Plan C involved the perfect compromise - a lie in, ride over to ABO, catch up with those on the ride over a couple of pints, head down to the New Den and watch Brentford get one over Millwall. Most of Plan C actually fell into place, barring one fairly important element. tbh the die was cast when I discovered Sierra Nevada on tap in All Bar One - having recently spent a month in the Pacific NW messing about on a bike, Sierra Nevada had become my beer of choice to accompany whatever Man vs Food style meal I could locate in the evening.
It was a very fine afternoon though, lovely to catch up with so many faces from rides past and reminisce over the fnrttc legacy. A shame to miss Mike e, but hopefully there will be other rides.
A few random fnrttc thoughts…
Best moment: Whitstable ride, sunrise/mist/sheep/electricity pylons. To the few that were there with Mike fixing a puncture it was magic. To the other 50 folk enjoying breakfast at that point it probably sounded a bit ‘so what’. You had to be there.
Best ride: a jaunt to Newhaven with a small group before everyone applied for passports and started riding to foreign climes. We all knew the way, it rained, we were able to sneak into Gatwick and no Tecs or waymarkers were needed. Just a ride for the fun of it.
Smuggest moment: at the back of the ride going through Aldgate I crossed paths with an inebriated office party casualty – handbag stolen and no funds/phone to get home. Gave her 20 quid for the train and tbh thought that would be that. Got a very sweet letter (probably the last one I received) a couple of weeks later thanking me for apparently saving her life, enclosing £40 and a promise to come on a future ride. Karma and all that kicked in and I suspect West Ham were fighting relegation that year, so I dropped the cash off with the Bobby Moore cancer charity. Don’t think she ever showed for a ride, but it made my evening – didn’t redeem Southend though.
Most surreal moment: a close call between the 3am Dartford Tunnel experience on my first outing and riding apparently aimlessly through a housing estate en route to Brighton, only for the ride to come to a sudden stop outside a seemingly random flat, everyone trouped inside to find that the owner had cleared out all his furniture and put on a spread to feed 50 people. We ate his food, emptied his fridge, and made a mess of his flat, then all left without bothering to clear up. Just like a regular house party except you didn’t have to bring a bottle. Tourist Tony of course - chapeau.
Best breakfast: close run thing between Whitstable and Bognor. Islington-on-Sea just shades it courtesy of the enhanced refreshment facilities.
Worst breakfast: three way tie – Southend/Brighton/Mumbles. Just where do they get those sausages? Jamie wouldn’t approve.
Best half way stop: I’ve never been one for food at this stage and tea tends to be... tea. But the guy who runs the café at Chatham (?) en route to Whitstable, Kieran I think, stands out as a fine host. No one straight and sober has any right to be that cheerful at 4am, perhaps he wasn’t…
Bleakest moment: wet and cold in Woolwich (is it actually possible to feel good in Woolwich?) after a slow puncture strewn start to the ride. The thought occurred that I could have walked from HPC as quickly. Or I could be at home in bed…
Most abuse from random punters: riding though the badlands of SE London on one of the earlier routes east. I hadn’t been called a c**t that often since West Ham were at the original Den back in the ‘80’s. Given the locale it was probably the same people doling out the verbals.
Best train ride home: no contest – Tim O both educating and entertaining a group of us on space travel to Mars a couple of years back. Brilliant.
Karma revisited – most profitable ride: found £400 on the pavement riding home from the station one sunny Saturday morning a few years back. A highly developed catholic guilt complex compelled me to visit the nearest police station where confusion reigned over the correct procedure as apparently no one had ever handed in (or checked for lost) money before. A few weeks later they called to say it was mine if I wanted to pick it up. I dutifully tucked it away inside John Peel’s biography thinking it might come in handy as an emergency fund some time. I was burgled not long afterwards and in their search for something valuable amongst the junk in my house the intruders had ransacked all the cupboards etc tossing the contents onto the floor… with one exception; John Peel’s life story, valuable content and all was left standing alone on the shelf. The stash remains in situ. I vaguely remember answering exam questions on the time value of money at some point, I presumably failed.
Bikes used - three. First one trashed when I ran into the back of a BMW in Barnes. If you are going to have an accident on a bike I can thoroughly recommend Barnes over say, Mile End – not only did the Beemer owner show no concern for the obvious damage to her car, but the lady in the Merc following insisted that her husband, who was apparently a dentist, examine my mouth which was by now bleeding profusely. To be fair he didn’t seem quite so keen not being in possession of those funky latex gloves so beloved of some. Second bike nicked from Brentford on a Friday night, presumably as payback for a fnrttc non-attendance. And thirdly a Condor Percorso just to make Mr Walnuts jealous. Davy, uncensored pics of Phil Wood hubs and Campag Record running kit are available for a reasonable fee.
Number of punctures: none. A similar figure for mudguards deployed and Brooks saddles used. Not saying there is any correlation…
Number of times I fell off: none. Well, until Saturday at least – riding back a tad pissed from ABO and managed to come off in the middle of that water feature by City Hall. Looked stupid in front of all the tourists and it hurt…a lot. A fitting end to my fnrttc.
Tl;dr...
Soundtrack: Teenage Kicks
U
User10571
Guest
Choice Des, choice.
Nothing to add, other than the delight to have been in your company on some of those...
Nothing to add, other than the delight to have been in your company on some of those...
Last edited by a moderator:
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
+1. Great stuff Des.
mikeee
Well-Known Member
- Location
- City of Culture
Whitstable sheep in misty field
A deffo "I was there" moment!
Gutted to have missed you Des, but will be back in 2015 whatever the format of the rides.
A deffo "I was there" moment!
Gutted to have missed you Des, but will be back in 2015 whatever the format of the rides.
Hard to know where to start (or stop) with this one.
That was a great ride, and special as this was my first non-Brighton Fridays ride. (Just a shame I waited this long.) Even better was that the first 20 or so miles were almost effortless as we were swept along by the following breeze.
Rotherhithe Tunnel was great fun. The last time I went through there would have been about 30 years ago in an open-topped Healey Sprite with the car in just the right gear to set my ears rattling with the straight through exhaust resonating off the walls. But last night was much better. (And how does the temperature drop by five degrees within inches of exiting the tunnel ? That is weird.)
East London is hardly the most scenic way to exit the capital, but the transition from the swankiness of the West End to anywhere else, whichever way you go, is never less than fascinating. And the best bit is when, without warning, the buildings suddenly stop and we are ejected into the cooler night air of the (sort of) countryside.
Great winding lanes, great company (nothing revolutionary there). I managed a few bits of waymarking, helped out with a puncture, and had a number of wonderful non-cycling related chats awheel, so feel I got a taste of every possible aspect of the ride (apart from the organising and leading and all that stuff obv).
One special moment was when we took a left turn in open country soon after a gathering and the only-slightly stretched out string of cyclists had become two perpendicular single files in one continuous swathe of red ahead and white behind.
The Tully stop was fabulous, I just wish someone had drawn my attention to the wonderfulness of the Bakewell tart. I missed that.
I also completely missed the windmill, and it was when we stopped just after that with Mikee behind me (when he loudly complained about not having the windmill brought to his attention) that I realised he was with us. (Not really sure how I had missed him up to that point.)
There was not a moment where I felt snoozy and as we approached Sarfend I really felt I could keep on going.
Breakfast hit the spot. And, as ever, finding myself at a table with a bunch of people I hardly knew, we had a laugh. A lot of laughs. That, for me, is one of the key essences of the Fridays. Solidarity through shared adversity, or some such nonsense. That’s overstating it a bit, but a shared, non-trivial experience does provide a warm glow. And that glow lasts.
Enough whimsy (blather) ? (At least, that’s all I’m going to provide for this ride, brace yourself for more when I’ve had a chance to put something together about what the Fridays have meant for family hatler, from our first tentative rendez-vous in (I think) June 2006, all the way through to now.)
That was a great ride, and special as this was my first non-Brighton Fridays ride. (Just a shame I waited this long.) Even better was that the first 20 or so miles were almost effortless as we were swept along by the following breeze.
Rotherhithe Tunnel was great fun. The last time I went through there would have been about 30 years ago in an open-topped Healey Sprite with the car in just the right gear to set my ears rattling with the straight through exhaust resonating off the walls. But last night was much better. (And how does the temperature drop by five degrees within inches of exiting the tunnel ? That is weird.)
East London is hardly the most scenic way to exit the capital, but the transition from the swankiness of the West End to anywhere else, whichever way you go, is never less than fascinating. And the best bit is when, without warning, the buildings suddenly stop and we are ejected into the cooler night air of the (sort of) countryside.
Great winding lanes, great company (nothing revolutionary there). I managed a few bits of waymarking, helped out with a puncture, and had a number of wonderful non-cycling related chats awheel, so feel I got a taste of every possible aspect of the ride (apart from the organising and leading and all that stuff obv).
One special moment was when we took a left turn in open country soon after a gathering and the only-slightly stretched out string of cyclists had become two perpendicular single files in one continuous swathe of red ahead and white behind.
The Tully stop was fabulous, I just wish someone had drawn my attention to the wonderfulness of the Bakewell tart. I missed that.
I also completely missed the windmill, and it was when we stopped just after that with Mikee behind me (when he loudly complained about not having the windmill brought to his attention) that I realised he was with us. (Not really sure how I had missed him up to that point.)
There was not a moment where I felt snoozy and as we approached Sarfend I really felt I could keep on going.
Breakfast hit the spot. And, as ever, finding myself at a table with a bunch of people I hardly knew, we had a laugh. A lot of laughs. That, for me, is one of the key essences of the Fridays. Solidarity through shared adversity, or some such nonsense. That’s overstating it a bit, but a shared, non-trivial experience does provide a warm glow. And that glow lasts.
Enough whimsy (blather) ? (At least, that’s all I’m going to provide for this ride, brace yourself for more when I’ve had a chance to put something together about what the Fridays have meant for family hatler, from our first tentative rendez-vous in (I think) June 2006, all the way through to now.)
