The riders are many but the leaders are few, so with Nigel away for two weeks and with Steve W building his quadraceps in Tenerife and then off on family business I turned up to lead this week's scheduled ride to Garson's Farm. Garson's Farm amply justifies the one-o-clock winter start; indeed it is at the limits of sensible rides in these darkest weekends of the year, but I figured we could get there and back, if not all the way to home, before night fell, if we did not dawdle.
The forecast had been pretty gloomy but the day up to lunchtime was a bright, windy autumnal one and we had a decent turnout. The rising wind and the gathering clouds to the South West deterred none, so Stuart, Rob, Peter, John, Kasumi, Karen, Anna and Roger followed me at what for Beginners was a fairly decent pace through Ewell and Chessington North, Claygate and Esher and in no time at all we were zinging down Lammas Lane and then fighting the Christmas shopping crowds at the garden centre.
The rain threatened all the time but there were only a few delicate spots; we had skilfully timed our teabreak to accommodate the heavy shower.
Peter had forgotten his lights and Rob wanted to get to Rochester that evening, so they left afternoon tea before us, taking Stuart with them. That left six of us to reclimb Lammas Lane and make our way home through Weston Green, Surbiton and Worcester Park, a ride interrupted only by a photo-stop at Weston Green and an unfortunate spill for Kasumi on St Marks Hill. While we stuck together, though, we continued to enjoy fortune with the rain but on my way home alone I got a good soaking from Sutton onwards.
My indiscretion had been to fall to the temptation of cherry and coconut cake. It was a huge slice, far too sweet and there was something just not right about it. I ate it all partly because I thought it might fuel my effort up Lammas Hill. By the time I'd got to Sutton I was fairly uncomfortable, each thought that returned to the cake increasing my nausea. Thanks are due to the motorist on Westmead Road who, presumably perceiving my discomfort, attempted to help me through the assisted dying process but the very force of my expletives held him narrowly at bay.
Genuine thanks are due to the good company, and I expect that most riders got home to have their showers indoors.
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