Indecisions, indecisions. Curtailed ride from Nonsuch Park on 24 August, to Horton

Saturday morning was about as unpromising as it can get, late autumn temperatures, showers interspersed with downpours, but some of us have an immovable faith in those nice weather forecasters at the BBC, and knew that it would clear up around lunchtime so long as one was not too precise about when lunchtime might be.

It was still raining after our lunch but faith is faith and out we cycled for the meeting at Nonsuch Park.  Maggie's prediction of who would be there when we arrived proved accurate; Colin, Nigel and one other, in this case Rob 1.

But as we dithered about actually stirring up the enthusiasm to set out, Rob 2 arrived and then Helen, and we had a quorum sufficient for a ride.  Cobham was on the timetable as a long ride, Oaks Park as a short one, but we agreed to go as one group to Hampton Court.  Colin stayed behind to seek a bike fix and the leader's conch was passed to me.

My tenure of office was the Beginners equivalent of Liz Truss.  I set off full of optimism in the wrong direction and was soon deposed, as Helen took over to take us on her route from Stoneleigh, where we now found ourselves, to Hampton Court via Chessington.  The rain recommenced , at first gently but then in full force so we could hardly see, and the spreading chestnut tree under which we sought shelter was so drenched by the morning rain that it was less wet not to stand under it.

There were those who were for turning back; this was a Saturday ride, after all.  Most (except, I suspect Helen, who is training for Spain) were for not continuing to Hampton Court and there followed a debate about whether Horton Arts Centre or the Moat House was nearer, and another one about who was best placed to lead us there.  Nigel said confidently that he knew that Horton was the nearer and that he knew the way and my gullibility, already exposed by the weather man, led me to believe him.  Helen sussed out straight away that what he meant was he had a Garmin and could ask that how to get there, but only if his network was operating efficiently.

We got there in the end, our clothes drying out on us, in some disjointedness and via a circuitous route and to discover Helen was already there awaiting us, only then to see it was crammed because there was a craft fare, so we ended up at the Moat House anyway.

Of course, the weather miraculously improved ; at least Helen had the good grace to lead us a pleasantly interesting way back.  All in all, lovely tea and cake but a bit of a non-event.