Nonsuch 1-o-clockers to Garson's Farm 28 March

Saturday was a bright morning but there was a chilly and brisk Nor'Westerly.  The forecast threatended intermittent showers.  Twenty four hours earlier the rides list had carried a "tbd" but the new rides list was out before I left home and suggested Hampton Court or Bushy Park.  That was where we went last week so I had a look down the programme and, seeing that Garson's Farm was not due until May and I hadn't been there since before Christmas I opted for that.  Posh garden centre chains packed with every kind of good except what you need in the garden are not my favourite venues but the rides there and back are enjoyable and that is what I needed.

Selling it to the others was not difficult especially as most of the healthy number who turned up at the Mansion wanted to go on a longer, faster ride.  So off I set with just Ken, Nigel and Karen in tow; two experienced riders plus an electric bike, so we had the advantage of not having to hang around too much.  

Ken was fretting about his battery usage but it seems to me that battery indicators on a bike are about as accurate as fuel indicators on a car, so he had ample mileage in the tank.  But he has discovered the accelerator on his machine, so he was right behind me as we made our way at Beginners lickety-spit pace and got to the garden centre in about an hour and a quarter, despite that headwind.

There were only four of us, so we found a table indoors where it was a bit too warm for those who had to go out again and brave the elements.  When we did emerge there were, as forecast, some evil looking clouds on the horizon but the choice was to get on with it or stay there for the night so off we legged it up Lammas Lane and down le Col de Sandown, pausing only for a quick photo outside the school where Ken used to teach music.

Good memories for Ken

The indigo clouds were tailing us but we fooled them with a few little shimmies round the back paths of Thames Ditton.  And that would have been that but for the tunnel on South Lane where it was flooded, and upon emerging on the southern side we had a perplexing slow moving collision in which poor Karen was all but crushed by the hippopotamus which settled as if in slow motion on top of her.  A passing zookeeper kindly parked her car and helped us lift the great beast, which had to be sat down on a wall but insisted it could carry on.

Karen got home safely but was not, it turned out, unbruised and felt a bit unsteady after half a dozen gin and tonics.  I escorted the hippopatamus back to its enclosure.

So, a splendid ride but our thoughts were somewhat concentrated on the lessons to be learned from its ending.  After all, passengers on board the Titanic enjoyed three days of wonderful luxury cruising before their mishap, but everybody forgets that bit.