The weather seemed good for a slightly longer ride than is usual on a Saturday afternoon, so the plan was to leave Sutton Library at 1.30. There was a delay at the start for Roger's bicycle repair and the leader was a little worried, for he had had to book a table for six at Squires in order to ensure coffee and cake at the only place en route with a loo on Saturday. Godfrey briefly joined us on his way to join the 2pm departures from Nonsuch, but we said farewell and skirted the park to avoid the gathering. It was the turn of Ken's electric bike to give a problem at West Ewell but the management had taken care to ensure our table booking was timed conservatively, and a good job too, because we arrived at Stoke d'Abernon on the dot of three after steady progress through Maldon Rushett and past Oxshott station.
The staff at Squires were astonishingly helpful and welcoming as if we were long lost customers they were delighted to see, but we have been using the Patisserie during lockdown; today, of course, the Stoke station toilets were not available because the waiting room was closed, and anyway, the Patisserie was closed as we cycled past it on our way through Bray Road and over the River Mole to Downside Common. The route through Bookham Road to Great Bookham Common is delightful, especially on a sunny day, and though familiar to regular B Groupers is slightly too far out for a Beginners group to get home to Nonsuch in time for tea.
The common did not disappoint, though the ground was a bit hard after the dry spell; we were surprised to see so few walkers; perhaps they had realised before we had how cold was the wind, though we were protected by the thick foliage on the common, and River Lane is fairly enclosed as we recrossed the Mole. They have filled in the worst potholes on River Lane, the ones near the football field.
It had been a beautiful ride, everyone agreed, along paths seldom taken, but the journey home is almost entirely eastwards and the wind from that quarter was neither warming up nor decreasing in power as the day was drawing to a close and we were all pretty tired as we crossed Ashtead and Epsom Commons. We got home to Wallington at six, Steve having peeled off at Nonsuch and Ken and then Anna and Roger as we went through Sutton. Maggie and I were grateful to find the cafe in Manor Park willing to serve us tea and a Bakewell tart despite being in the act of closing and the order of the evening was fish and chips because we could not be bothered to cook.
57.92 km at 14.1 km/h despite there being only 375m of climbing, the vast majority of that gentle. Yet a few weeks ago Steve and I had tried a harder version of the ride, going over Banstead and Epsom Racecourse, in inclement weather, 59.72 km with 538 m climbing, and without hurrying kept up a more respectable 15.4 km/h. So why was Saturday so tiring? We all felt it. Was it the repairs breaking our rhythm? Was it the Saturday traffic? One of us felt it was insufficient cake. Most settled on the debilitating effect of riding constantly into the East wind. But I knew the secret. For months now, the men had been increasing in strength like Samson as our hair grew long. This week we have all had our locks shorn after Lockdown, and our strength is lying on the floor of the barbers' in clumps of grey curls. You wait, Delilah. It will grow again, and then there will be no catching us. .
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