by Paul
There was a decent crowd at the Mansion House on Saturday and though the rain had been of monsoon proportion overnight the weather was now decent, if blustery and cold.
Steve H was full of a cold but had turned up to take the short ride to Horton and wisely wanted to discuss the wisdom of sticking to the usual off road route or using the tarmac in such conditions. Steve W was there to lead the longer ride, for which we split into two groups, Steve as usual tiring of the chat and the hanging around and riding off on the dot of ten past with a half dozen or so to ride to Bushy Park the long way round, via the cycle/footpath up the A3 to Richmond Park and over the top to Ham Gate.
Quite a few were left behind and when I led out the second group I was mildly surprised at the number that stayed behind for the Horton ride. Seven came with me. Aware of the numbers, I didn't pay sufficient attention to the individuals to note that I had all the free thinkers and without consulting them decided that we would take a different, equally circuitous route, going through New Malden and past Eisenhower's house to enter Richmond Park through the Ladderstile Gate, using the traffic-free Broomfield Hill to go to Robin Hood Gate and doubling back past the Pen Ponds Cafe to follow in Steve's tyre treads across the top to Ham Gate, past the Goldsmith's house to Teddington, to cross the river on foot and thence remount to ride to London's second biggest deer park.
Everywhere were the signs of foment. The car park at Nonsuch was nothing but a muddy bike wash and foot-wetter. The Hogsmill was a raging, muddy torrent but not comparison to the Thames, on the brink of overflow, the weir at Teddington a cataract to rival Niagara.
Last time I'd gone up Warren Drive I had been made to dismount to get around the barrier, so this time we went straight across Coombe Lane up the drive to the Trickledown Gold Club, a more picturesque route and one which reminded us of our modest status in society. And we never go that way, nor that way through the park, so I had unwittingly encouraged the avant-garde and when we were on the north west side of the River my free-thinkers thought freely and by popular referendum elected for coffee in the empty Flying Cloud cafe we were passing instead of pressing on to meet up with the others. So that is what we did. First Trump, then Brexit, then Boris and now this; do we really want democracy?
photo by Sue of the freethinkers at Teddington Lock
Actually it was nice. Sue B had come along for by far her longest ride since breaking her wrist and it was good to see her back. My tea was in a china mug, my Malteser cake was much less sickly than it sounded and Bushy park would have probably been windier and even colder. Home via Kingston Bridge and Berrylands and I thought I had better tell Steve on Strava why we had not turned up. He noted that I had all the troublemakers in my group.
We had a chat with the ladies who run the Flying Cloud cafe; times are hard. If you are passing that way, think about calling in, or I wonder (though they did not say so in so many words) we may lose the place.
