It was windy and a little drizzly early on Saturday and my turn to take the 2-o-clock short ride. Ten 1-o-clockers on the longer ride had left for Hampton Court and I wondered who might be there at 2. The rain had stopped though the wind remained blustery, and Rob and Sharon were waiting with Colin under the arches of the Mansion. My version of the schedule had us riding up to Banstead (because, it turned out, I'd got the wrong week!), but Colin's said it was New Malden, a more sensible suggestion anyway but one for which I had not prepared.
I attended to a call of nature and in my absence we had decided upon Moseley Rowing Club, a bold choice on the second shortest daylight Saturday of the year with a poor weather forecast for the evening.
We set out with Colin leading and had a pleasant ride on the most direct route, through Worcester Park, Berrylands, Kingston Bridge and Bushy Park. The astonishing thing was that we beat the 1-o-clockers to tea! I had assumed their absence might mean they had supped somewhere else or that they had refreshed themselves and moseyed on home, but no, when I went back to the bike to retrieve my purse they were just arriving. Some story about a circuitous route and a puncture to mask the fact that really they were just a bunch of old, slow codgers.
The pleasurable result, though, was that we had a winter holiday tea altogether.
Our group set off home first and we were joined by Anna, Roger and Ken, who were to rue their decision that ours was the group to get them home first, safe and dry and before Dr Jekyll had turned into Mr Hyde.
We went a less direct route back for the purpose of making a loop but we were stringing out badly and remiss on corner-marking. Through Thames Ditton and up the hill to Tolworth the situation worsened as some of our group were tiring in the wind and on the hills and the waiting, and sometimes the riding back to find people, delayed us further and further.
With hindsight we could, and should, have split at New Malden, the Sutton contingent going home through Worcester Park, but we chose not to and as it got pitch dark and the temperature dropped and the wind rose and the rain started we found ourselves wandering through the maze of suburban avenues that eventually get you through to Stoneleigh, a strange place where strange people live and you don't want to get lost there after dark. Trouble is that only the leader clearly knew where he was in the dark and the difference in pace between those at the front and those at the rear increased exponentially. Trying to link the back of the ride with the front, I missed an unmarked corner and took a wrong turning down a steepish hill, which had to be retrieved. Fortunately those following me waited at the top.
As soon as I got an inkling of where we might be, I informed the leader that we, the Sutton contingent, were heading for Worcester Park, which rightly or wrongly I calculated as being our quickest way home in the worsening conditions. Three of the six remaining riders joined me and we took a more familiar and direct route to our respective Hobbit Holes. By then, though, the weather in the Shire was turning very wet and windy and some of the Saturday night driving was at its most appalling. At Carshalton Grove I realised I had a rear wheel flat but the lighting is not great there, I have tubeless tyres which I had no inclination to start repairing in those conditions and as I was about two Kilometres from home and soaking wet, and as you can ride on flat tubeless tyres better than you can on flat inner tubes, I decided to take the risk and ride it out on the flat.
All in all, for me, a lesson in why we chose to have winter rides starting at 1, why it is supposed to be the short ride at 2, and how we need to restrict our ambitions with the interests of riders of all abilities in mind. It is, after all, Beginners.
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