Wheezing and Whizzing and close encounters of the absurd kind. Nonsuch two-o-clockers 4 January

Today was my turn to lead the two-o-clockers on the short ride and Maggie and I rolled up on a cold, grey day to find the ever present Colin, and Ken, at the Mansion, along with a very welcome infrequent visitor, Colin 2.  The one-o-clockers had long gone on their superior adventure but there was no wind to speak of, and no rain, so for January it was as good weather as we're going to get for an hour or two out on the bike and it was pleasing that a few more turned up; Jackie, followed by Anna and Roger.

Anna had acquired a new cold but I expect she was there to keep her eye on Roger, who has acquired a new pacemaker and on Monday, at last, was given the all clear to join us on a bike instead of on foot, as he has been doing.  I was not sure whether they had fully taken on board that we were going up to Banstead; sometimes I suspect that their memories choose to forget that this run, though short, is a gentle but persistent climb from the start until the tea stop.

Out of the park, under the railway bridge at Cheam station and then up Sandy Lane to turn along Cuddington Way, an undulating, privately unmaintained road of particularly portly sleeping policemen separated by cracks and potholes between concrete blocks.  It was at that point that Anna and Roger decided that the pacemaker had done insufficient training, and they sensibly turned for home before the climb up to Banstead station.  What with the incoming weather front it was not a great day for asthmatics and there was a point when we had not only six riders but what sounded like a further couple of ghostly wheezers.

Still, the survivors got to the Cafe in the Park (fka Pistaccio's) in good spirits and probably stayed a few minutes too long in the warm, considering the onset of dusk.  When we braved the cold, Colin nearly met an unhappy fate in collision with a jaywalker, who waited until the last second to spring out at him from between parked cars.  The cold bit was zinging down the hill past the prisons but they have fixed the drain half way down so you no longer have to take an anxious look in the mirror before edging out in front of recklessly driven Twitmobiles.

We split at Downs Road, as usual, the two Cheamer Colins aiming for Belmont Station and the rest of us, Wallingtonians and Carshaltoners, making our way east.

25 km door to door, enough to get fresh air into the lungs.  Thanks to everyone for your company.