Great to be hill-bound this week.

Under the sign of the Hanging Gate, that most accursed spot where I would not wish my own worst enemy to linger longer than necessary, perchance to fall victim to the lonely cries of ale-drinking ghosts, trapped for eternity in its forever shuttered lounge bar, I exercised the prerogative granted by statute to the Ancient Order of Ride Leaders [should that be ‘the Order of Ancient Ride Leaders?’ – Ed] and despatched a self-selected group of Fast Boys, aka Ewan, Eddie, Pete, Dave and Russell post haste to secure a table at our hosts that most excellent establishment known as the Wetton Old School Tea Room.

If by ‘old school’ we mean fast service, a warmed plate for my baked beans on toast, non-dairy milk and margarine, and, get this, not only extra hot water without asking but an extra teabag each as well, then mine’s a double helping please Matron.

Such a shame that Ewan and Eddie missed what is fast becoming a serious contender in my Top Three Tearooms of 2020 (podcast download available shortly) departing intentionally for more pressing later engagements of an undisclosed nature, but believed to involve, in the case of the former, a rendezvous to watch grown men chase an oblong ball for 80 minutes, the rules of which must forever remain a mystery to me. Shame also that Steve, rather less intentionally, enjoyed the challenge of finding that his freehub didn’t work some three to four miles before the café. We’ve all been there Steve; I walked six miles home from Mottram one sunny Circuit of the Edge – except, let the record state, for the interlude when former member James K (not the Star Trek one) nobly pushed me all the way down Whirley Road, an act of heroism and strength for which I remain in his undischarged debt.

As usual, I really enjoyed my ride, and can’t imagine not doing this every Saturday as long as I am able to turn a pedal [Editor’s note: actually, you have to turn both pedals]. However, just occasionally, I’d quite like to come on one of these Saturday rides as a punter not as a leader. I’ve been leading rides every week for the club since 2012, at one point three times a week, and I know when I’m getting stale [Editor’s note, not as stale as these write-ups].

Now, I’ve written words to this effect several times over the last few months to no avail, and I shall probably go on leading every week if no one else will help, but this week [spoiler alert: fess up ahead] I was almost tempted to stay at home and indulge a different, more sedentary, retirement hobby (not rugby, guesses on a postcard please for a chance to win a copy of my forthcoming short story collection, Confessions of a Ride Leader, Vol Two: The Wilderness Years’, publication date TBA, film rights available and expected to go for a figure in the region of 1p).

I was only almost tempted. Of course I went out and how glad I was that I did. The writing could wait, as you can see that it did. For, although with a bit of IT jiggery pokery, I shall fiddle with the publication date on this News section so it’ll look like I’ve posted this on Saturday night after my regulation soak with a box of Radox and a brace of rubber ducks (giddy life, eh?), I am actually I am writing this late on Monday while the light fails on a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel. No of course I didn’t write that. But could T.S. Elliot ride a bike? I think we should be told.

Chris

PS. Oh, the ride? 10.4 mph (slower group), 45 miles, home for 3.30 (pm). Is that enough detail?

[Ed: no]

Here’s the route then:

https://ridewithgps.com/routes/29876672