Nonsuch 1-o-clockers No-Mates to Molesey, 27 December.

A beautiful but cold winter's day and despite it being in the middle of the festive season, sixteen riders turned up at the Mansion for the 1-o-clock ride, including Wendy, who had not been out with us for a long while and a cyclist to whom I was not introduced, and did not anyway come on the ride.

Steve W was there to lead so he and I agreed to end up at the scheduled destination, the Molsesey Boat Club, by our different routes and at a different pace.  We also agreed, since we were starting out in the same direction, that he would go first.

Off he set, and the majority followed him, including one or two riders I thought would have preferred to be in my group.  That left me with five to lead but once they realised it was me they all started making excuses.  The mysterious newcomer was there only to have his bike fixed.  Roger suddenly developed chain problems.  Somebody had earache and it was a cold day.  The fourth just went home.

That left Nigel and me, so off we set at a pace which might enable us to catch up the others, even though I was not sure what route Steve was taking.

Sure enough, as we got to the centre of Kingston, we intercepted them.  But across the bridge we were on our own again.  I pondered taking a short route and get in the tea queue before them but it was at that stage glorious winter sunshine and the attraction of Cobblers Walk and the Avenue across Bushy Park on such a day and the chance to spot a deer or a snow leopard was too much; we arrived at the Boat club in time to lock up and mount the stairs with the fast group's backmarker.  

Thirteen on the River

We tagged on with the group on the way home but peeled off for our own route through Surbiton and Old Malden.

Thanks, Nigel, for the company on the road.  Thanks, everyone else, for the company at tea.

Another day of sunshine. Beddington 1-o-clockers to Merton Abbey Mills, 20 December

Those of us planning a night clubbing (well, Christmas lights at Wakefield Place is as close as it gets at our age) were keen on a short, smart run this afternoon, which was a bit sad because the weather was perfect for Cycling, the low winter sun providing the only meterological hazard, the Wandle wildlife providing a zoological one.

The usual suspects, Ken, Anna, Roger and Sharon, joined Maggie and me for a quick trip through the Beddington Park Industrial Estate, Mitcham Common and Figge's Marsh to Colliers Wood and the M.E.D cafe.  This route was especially chosen not only to dispel any myth that London is not superior to Paris in architecture and ambience, but also to give certain parties the opportunity to complain about the price of the (delicious) pumpkin and ginger cake, and the paper cups.

Home along the Wandle where we encountered swarms of midges that came across in waves and spattered against our rainproofs and got inside our goggles and, for those unwise enough to afford them access, inside our mouths.  A low chlerestorol, low sugar snack, I am told.  Lower than the pumpkin cake.

At the Phipps Bridge folly

Thanks to everyone for their company and for kindly co-operating in our quest to get home and go out for the evening.

In case you wondered, the lights at Wakefield Place were superb.

A winter sun. Nonsuch 1-o-clockers to Molesey Boat Club, 13 December.

What a splendid day for cycling!  A little parky for those of us in shorts who were out on the road at 8.30 to watch their grandchildren play rugby, but clear and blue and dry.

We had a majority electing to avoid the scheduled trip up Box Hill, suggesting we stop at Leatherhead, or even at Ashtead, but another reasonable crowd had gathered at the Mansion House in Nonsuch Park, including a few I knew would want the full run.  Just as I was working out the logistics of a fairly full ride to Ashtead and waving the others on without a recognised leader, so Steve W turned up to solve my problem and Nigel suggested a moderate ride in the opposite direction, to Eight on the River.

As last week, Molesey is at the limits of a ride at modest pace if we are to enjoy tea and cake and get most people home before darkfall, but agreement was reached and off I went up the newly restructured path towards Sparrow Hill; Ken, Karen, Anna, Roger, Maggie, Lorraine following me and Nigel bringing up the rear.  Behind us we left the others chatting but they clearly did end up going on their ride.

A pleasant, incident-free ride wherein the only hazard was negotiating the fancy dress charity run by Wimbledon College students on the Thames Path.  It was almost too warm inside the rowing club cafe, and therefore difficult to leave.  We chose the straightest, swiftest road home through Bushy Park and across Kingston Bridge and after going our separate ways at Worcester Park, most will have got home before it was really dark.

Evening sun in Bushy Park

Good weather, good company, good cake and excellent tea.  What else is Saturday for, now the football has been rescheduled to maximise the armchair pound?

Between the showers; Nonsuch 1-o-clockers to Garson's Farm, 6 December 2025

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.

Karen looks wistfully towards home as the rain threatens

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.

Blue Sky at night, cylists delight; Nonsuch 1-o-clockers Saturday 29 November

All morning it could not decide whether to drizzle or just pour but the chubby lady on the BBC on Friday night had shown those charts where you keep your eye fixed on your home location while the computer sends grey and green and blue clouds over, and they clearly showed that the rain would have passed over by around 1pm.

One by one in the morning, potential ride leaders dropped out, so even with Maggie a bit under the weather I felt obliged to turn up at the Mansion for leadership duties.  Have you noticed that when the skies look at last as if they are clearing up, the outgoing cloud has a spiteful finale?  So it was, the rain quite heavy as soon as I left home for the half hour trip and getting worse as I approached Cheam.  Even so, Beginners are a surprisingly hardy lot and it was a bit of a shock to arrive on the stroke of 1 and find no-one else at the Mansion.

Then, just as I was wondering which quick trip I would do solo before going home, they turned up one by one, the ones who usually go with Steve W.  By five past the hour we had ourselves a convoy and the only question was where to go.  Stuart, the only other registered leader, wanted Garsons Farm and me to lead, but I did not fancy the Christmas Shopping mania there and was anyway mentally prepared for the scheduled Leatherhead ride.  We took a democratic vote but there was a huge majority of spoilt ballot papers and Leatherhead won by two votes to one.

And the rain stopped.  So off we went through the fresh puddles, keeping up a lively pace.  On the top of Wilmerhatch Lane where we stopped for a quick swig and to regroup, the leader spotted a window of blue sky far away over the gin and tonic belt of middle Surrey.

Coffee at Charlie and Gingers and by the time we got to Leatherhead Station we were cycling in intermittent sunshine, which I used to take a picture on Ashtead Common.

Stuart, Peter, Lorraine, Rob, Kasumi and John in the weak evening sunshine

So we got back to Nonsuch through Ewell Village in good time and in evening sunlight.

A pleasant, straightforward trip in good company.  The only disappointment was to hear that Carolyn had turned up as designated leader for the two-o-clockers and no other riders showed up.

Oh we have slipped the surly bonds of Cheam. Short ride, 22 November

The weather was non too promising on Saturday but dear old Auntie had promised that the rain would blow through and ease by two.  It did so by one, so we set out configured for another cold, damp afternoon.

Colin was awaiting at the Mansion but is still not fit enough to come out on the ride, so we thought it would likely be just Paul and Maggie, Roger and Anna.  And, of course, Biggles.  Banstead was on the programme, as it usually is when it is my turn to take the short ride, and I thought we'd test Roger's relationship with Biggles by seeking out the hilliest route but, to our collective delight, Jen turned up, her first ride with us since her unfortunate tumble last month.  And then, in direct contradiciton to what Auntie had promised, it began to spit rain again, so I promised everybody that we would take the easier route.

Thus did we slip the surly bonds of Cheam, and dance the lights under the railway on laughter-silvered bikes.  Upward we climbed and joined the gloomy murk of rain-filled clouds, and wheeled and soared round muddy crack and pothole.  We flung our eager steeds through buffeting gusts of gale until with easy grace we topped the wind-swept heights of Banstead where this day neither lark nor eagle flew.

The Lavender Cafe was near-deserted but boy, was it warm in there.  And as we coffeed and caked and watched our bikes the rain came down.  So we waited and waited in hope that it would ease but really, we were waiting for Spring and hope was hopeless if we wanted to get home for tea and not only did the rain get worse, but a winter's evening was closing in.

Cosy and warm and hoping for the rain to ease

So down we went through standing puddles past the prisons and through to California.  There some turned for home but leadership involves seeing everyone safely back and Jen needed a guide back to Nonsuch.

At least the drivers, generally, acknowledged that anyone so stupid as to be cycling in such conditions on a November night should be afforded room and courtesy.  There was just enough light to get through the park and, just as my fingers and toes were beginning to complain, I was home, put out my hand and grasped the mug of steaming tea.

Thanks to all for your company on such an afternoon, and apologies to a brave young man, John G McGee.

Dreary grey drizzle cake; Beddington one-o-clockers 15 November

With the week we had been having we should not have been surprised that the weather refused to perform as forecast.  It was grey and colder than of late and, despite digging a millimetre too deep in extricating a piece of grit from my tyre and thereby giving myself a puncture ten minutes before we were due to leave, I held everybody up by only a few minutes and there all the usual suspects were waiting at Beddington Pavilion ready to go.  

We set out for Crystal Palace, for a change, in the knowledge that there was no club football this weekend (for the International break) so that the Selhurst Park ground, which we skirt, would be free to pass.  But it was one of those days when progress was a bit slow and it was difficult to stay enthusiastic as the promised BBC sunshine stayed above the increasingly unpromising cloud cover.  The Christmas shopping traffic and the road closure at East Croydon did not help, but at least the runners and walkers in South Norwood Country Park were all pleasant.  Nevertheless when we got to the last point of choice we reassessed our options and voted unanimously for the warmer and closer and tastier Branching Out cafe at Elmers End.

There the Apple and Almond cake was a pleasant relief from the grey drizzle which was by now setting in.  Trouble is, we had either to remount or negotiate overnight accommodation at the cafe (there's a nice Italian restaurant opposite).  But Ken was keen to get back before dark to we saddled up and pedalled off, remembering to take a picture on the way.

The usual suspects near Croydon Crown Court

It had been good for us to get out and get some exercise.  And a lesson in bike maintenance.  If I'm going to dig deep for gravel, I'll do it with plenty of time to spare in case of catastrophe.