Between the showers; Nonsuch 1-o-clockers to Garson's Farm, 6 December 2025

The riders are many but the leaders are few, so with Nigel away for two weeks and with Steve W building his quadraceps in Tenerife and then off on family business I turned up to lead this week's scheduled ride to Garson's Farm.  Garson's Farm amply justifies the one-o-clock winter start; indeed it is at the limits of sensible rides in these darkest weekends of the year, but I figured we could get there and back, if not all the way to home, before night fell, if we did not dawdle.

The forecast had been pretty gloomy but the day up to lunchtime was a bright, windy autumnal one and we had a decent turnout.  The rising wind and the gathering clouds to the South West deterred none, so Stuart, Rob, Peter, John, Kasumi, Karen, Anna and Roger followed me at what for Beginners was a fairly decent pace through Ewell and Chessington North, Claygate and Esher and in no time at all we were zinging down Lammas Lane and then fighting the Christmas shopping crowds at the garden centre.

The rain threatened all the time but there were only a few delicate spots; we had skilfully timed our teabreak to accommodate the heavy shower.

Peter had forgotten his lights and Rob wanted to get to Rochester that evening, so they left afternoon tea before us, taking Stuart with them.  That left six of us to reclimb Lammas Lane and make our way home through Weston Green, Surbiton and Worcester Park, a ride interrupted only by a photo-stop at Weston Green and an unfortunate spill for Kasumi on St Marks Hill.  While we stuck together, though, we continued to enjoy fortune with the rain but on my way home alone I got a good soaking from Sutton onwards.

Karen looks wistfully towards home as the rain threatens

My indiscretion had been to fall to the temptation of cherry and coconut cake.  It was a huge slice, far too sweet and there was something just not right about it.  I ate it all partly because I thought it might fuel my effort up Lammas Hill.  By the time I'd got to Sutton I was fairly uncomfortable, each thought that returned to the cake increasing my nausea.  Thanks are due to the motorist on Westmead Road who, presumably perceiving my discomfort, attempted to help me through the assisted dying process but the very force of my expletives held him narrowly at bay.

Genuine thanks are due to the good company, and I expect that most riders got home to have their showers indoors.

Blue Sky at night, cylists delight; Nonsuch 1-o-clockers Saturday 29 November

All morning it could not decide whether to drizzle or just pour but the chubby lady on the BBC on Friday night had shown those charts where you keep your eye fixed on your home location while the computer sends grey and green and blue clouds over, and they clearly showed that the rain would have passed over by around 1pm.

One by one in the morning, potential ride leaders dropped out, so even with Maggie a bit under the weather I felt obliged to turn up at the Mansion for leadership duties.  Have you noticed that when the skies look at last as if they are clearing up, the outgoing cloud has a spiteful finale?  So it was, the rain quite heavy as soon as I left home for the half hour trip and getting worse as I approached Cheam.  Even so, Beginners are a surprisingly hardy lot and it was a bit of a shock to arrive on the stroke of 1 and find no-one else at the Mansion.

Then, just as I was wondering which quick trip I would do solo before going home, they turned up one by one, the ones who usually go with Steve W.  By five past the hour we had ourselves a convoy and the only question was where to go.  Stuart, the only other registered leader, wanted Garsons Farm and me to lead, but I did not fancy the Christmas Shopping mania there and was anyway mentally prepared for the scheduled Leatherhead ride.  We took a democratic vote but there was a huge majority of spoilt ballot papers and Leatherhead won by two votes to one.

And the rain stopped.  So off we went through the fresh puddles, keeping up a lively pace.  On the top of Wilmerhatch Lane where we stopped for a quick swig and to regroup, the leader spotted a window of blue sky far away over the gin and tonic belt of middle Surrey.

Coffee at Charlie and Gingers and by the time we got to Leatherhead Station we were cycling in intermittent sunshine, which I used to take a picture on Ashtead Common.

Stuart, Peter, Lorraine, Rob, Kasumi and John in the weak evening sunshine

So we got back to Nonsuch through Ewell Village in good time and in evening sunlight.

A pleasant, straightforward trip in good company.  The only disappointment was to hear that Carolyn had turned up as designated leader for the two-o-clockers and no other riders showed up.

Oh we have slipped the surly bonds of Cheam. Short ride, 22 November

The weather was non too promising on Saturday but dear old Auntie had promised that the rain would blow through and ease by two.  It did so by one, so we set out configured for another cold, damp afternoon.

Colin was awaiting at the Mansion but is still not fit enough to come out on the ride, so we thought it would likely be just Paul and Maggie, Roger and Anna.  And, of course, Biggles.  Banstead was on the programme, as it usually is when it is my turn to take the short ride, and I thought we'd test Roger's relationship with Biggles by seeking out the hilliest route but, to our collective delight, Jen turned up, her first ride with us since her unfortunate tumble last month.  And then, in direct contradiciton to what Auntie had promised, it began to spit rain again, so I promised everybody that we would take the easier route.

Thus did we slip the surly bonds of Cheam, and dance the lights under the railway on laughter-silvered bikes.  Upward we climbed and joined the gloomy murk of rain-filled clouds, and wheeled and soared round muddy crack and pothole.  We flung our eager steeds through buffeting gusts of gale until with easy grace we topped the wind-swept heights of Banstead where this day neither lark nor eagle flew.

The Lavender Cafe was near-deserted but boy, was it warm in there.  And as we coffeed and caked and watched our bikes the rain came down.  So we waited and waited in hope that it would ease but really, we were waiting for Spring and hope was hopeless if we wanted to get home for tea and not only did the rain get worse, but a winter's evening was closing in.

Cosy and warm and hoping for the rain to ease

So down we went through standing puddles past the prisons and through to California.  There some turned for home but leadership involves seeing everyone safely back and Jen needed a guide back to Nonsuch.

At least the drivers, generally, acknowledged that anyone so stupid as to be cycling in such conditions on a November night should be afforded room and courtesy.  There was just enough light to get through the park and, just as my fingers and toes were beginning to complain, I was home, put out my hand and grasped the mug of steaming tea.

Thanks to all for your company on such an afternoon, and apologies to a brave young man, John G McGee.

Dreary grey drizzle cake; Beddington one-o-clockers 15 November

With the week we had been having we should not have been surprised that the weather refused to perform as forecast.  It was grey and colder than of late and, despite digging a millimetre too deep in extricating a piece of grit from my tyre and thereby giving myself a puncture ten minutes before we were due to leave, I held everybody up by only a few minutes and there all the usual suspects were waiting at Beddington Pavilion ready to go.  

We set out for Crystal Palace, for a change, in the knowledge that there was no club football this weekend (for the International break) so that the Selhurst Park ground, which we skirt, would be free to pass.  But it was one of those days when progress was a bit slow and it was difficult to stay enthusiastic as the promised BBC sunshine stayed above the increasingly unpromising cloud cover.  The Christmas shopping traffic and the road closure at East Croydon did not help, but at least the runners and walkers in South Norwood Country Park were all pleasant.  Nevertheless when we got to the last point of choice we reassessed our options and voted unanimously for the warmer and closer and tastier Branching Out cafe at Elmers End.

There the Apple and Almond cake was a pleasant relief from the grey drizzle which was by now setting in.  Trouble is, we had either to remount or negotiate overnight accommodation at the cafe (there's a nice Italian restaurant opposite).  But Ken was keen to get back before dark to we saddled up and pedalled off, remembering to take a picture on the way.

The usual suspects near Croydon Crown Court

It had been good for us to get out and get some exercise.  And a lesson in bike maintenance.  If I'm going to dig deep for gravel, I'll do it with plenty of time to spare in case of catastrophe.

Autumn Almanac. Nonsuch 1-o-clockers to Eight on the River, 8 November

 A perfect day for cycling; the weather clearing to become bright Autumn sunshine, a cool wind mild for November.  Why so few in shorts and short sleeves?

Twenty folk turned up at The Mansion in Nonsuch Park (though one, Steve H, was an hour early for the 2-o-clock show!). Steve was eventually to be joined by nine others so, with Colin doing his own thing, there were twenty eight Saturday riders out on the road.

Steve W took the usual racing crew to Teddington which left me with nine to take at a more modest pace.  The rota suggested Bushy Park or Hampton Court and the popular vote was for Molesey Boat Club, because us South Londoners don't naturally go oop North.

The refusal of at least one of our band to ride the extremely poor surface of the park path towards Sparrow Farm meant we circumnavigated the park to the East in order to get to Worcester Park, but otherwise it was our regular route through Tolworth and Long Ditton.

By the time we got to Old Father, the Boat Club was resplendent in the sunshine and we supped tea outside on the balcony.  I know theirs is a very different, and probably more demanding sport, but I always feel welcome there as a fellow-exerciser.  And the young lady said "Have a nice ride, lads" as we left, so I am definitely going there again.

Nine on the River

The ride home through Molesey, Weston Green and Surbiton was so enjoyable that I did not stop to tip a bucket of waste over the anti-Catholic preacher at Surbiton.  I know it's Guy Fawkes week, but really.....

Second-time rider Saddaf got the bus from Malden Road (she had a folding bike), and after we had seen her safely off it was getting dark; completely so by the time we got home.  So, a healthy 50km door-to-door but we'll have to cut it down a bit as the winter bites deeper.  But otherwise a splendid day out with excellent company.

 

Nonsuch 2-o-clockers to Merton Abbey Mills, 8 November

 By Anne & John Connaughton

Ten riders left Nonsuch along its torturous surface to the London Rd gate. From there it was a familiar route to Worcester Park and we successfully manoeuvred the lights to cross into Green Lane. Leaving the traffic behind we passed by the Riding School and a part of Worcester Park/ Morden that always surprises us with its existence.

The weather was mild, the sun was shining, the Autumn leaves were beautiful- a perfect afternoon for a cycle ride.  We found our way into Morden Park, enjoying the views when we got to the top of the hill, then rejoined the road to Morden.

Before long, we were entering Morden Hall Park. It was busy there with families, dog walkers, other cyclists so we kept a slow pace enjoying the park.  Past Deen City Farm which we were pleased to see was teeming with visitors.  We stopped for coffee at M.E.D in Merton Abbey Mills, most of us finding outdoor seating in the sunshine. Tony and Mark sat indoors.

At M.E.D

Our return route was along the Wandle Trail then up towards St Helier Hospital. Sharon and Steve peeled off as we headed down into Sutton along Grenell Rd and various side roads. We took a route past the bus station and roads well known to us, crossing the A217 to pass the Red Lion pub and back to Nonsuch Park just as the light was fading.

A pleasant ride of 12 miles and a lovely afternoon with Kirsten, Sharon, Karen, Laisim, Kwong, Tony, Mark and Steve.

A ride through the woods; Nonsuch 1-o-clockers shorter ride 1 November

Glory be to God for dappled things.

Gerald Manley Hopkins wrote these lines in 1877, sixty years after the invention of the bicycle, and they came to me today riding through the trees but I decided that the poet could not have experienced the ocular challenge of the dappled road in winter sun, the brilliance temporarily blinding me like a paparazzo's flashbulb a dozen times a minute.

We had a debutante today in the form of Saddaf, Navaid's wife.  Having been persuaded to come to the meeting at the Mansion, she had shied away from coming on the ride itself but we let Stuart lead the speedos out on what sounded like a really intriguing ride to Putney and promised her a modest ride at a modest pace and she came.  I think she was glad she did.  We were glad.

I set out with Anna, Roger, Ken, Jasmine, Navaid, Saddaf, and John B with Maggie backmarking and we used the standard route to Ashtead, modified slightly in the light of John A's Wednesday route, which I rather liked.  Sadly John B's knee caused him to turn home before we climbed by Epsom Hospital, and Jasmine left for home after tea because Walton was in the opposite direction to that we were taking.  And we were blessed with sunny weather, enjoying our afternoon tea and coffee and cake al fresco on Ashtead High Street; I wonder if we will get to do that again before the Spring.

Afternoon tea at Handley's on Ashstead High Street

It was in Ashtead just after the photo was taken that the skies took on a more threatening aspect but a few specks of rain seemed only to add to the charm of the densely leafed autumnal forest paths on John's route through Ashtead and Epsom Commons and we sauntered along exchanging politenesses with the several walkers out in their rain gear.  What a splendid way to spend a Saturday. 

We used the paths behind the old mental hospitals in Horton and returned to Nonsuch through Ewell, and what a relaxing and pleasant ride it turned out to be, what congenial company.  

It was only nearing home that the rain really started and in the cold and dank of another grey evening I regretted my negative attitude to the earlier sunlight.  

Indeed, Glory be to God for dappled things.