showmethecakes Sun Sep 10, 2017 5:06 pm
Departure time is advertised as 8:50 a.m. For those who turn up late they miss all the pre-ride rituals. For some this might mean a little bit of top tube stroking. For others it could be spinning the front wheel for a high speed tyre inspection. For the more fanatical we have now introduced morning prayers. For those wishing to take part the idea is to lay down your rain jacket as a prayer mat and kneel facing the wind direction. Next consult the cyclist prayer book for the one most appropriate to the prevailing conditions. On Saturday the wind appeared to be from the North West so the correct recital would have been:
Oh god of the wind do not fart in my face
I'd like to ride at a reasonable pace
We are heading south east and would welcome a blast
Like the hand of the lord pushing my arse
But for goodness sake don't do a one eighty
And slap me in the face like you've been doing quite lately
I'd like to get home and not be a disgrace
Oh god of the wind do not fart in my face
Amen.
Anyhow there was plenty of bulk to shelter behind on the run up the Queens Way. Regrettably all of it went straight on and only Burns and I turned up Anson col de Mer. Glad Burns didn't want any assistance along the toll road as I wasn't feeling very strong into the wind (prayer clearly unanswered). A few more had latched on through Kewstoke including long time no see Jim. I consulted the race manual and the route clearly said 'Jeannie's Bogs'. Like a lot of grand tour race directors Ivan decided the clouds looked a bit dark over Lympsham and made an executive decision to turn right to Brean. I managed to catch two of the three groups up the road but Neil, Alex, Ade and Burns had already gone too far ahead. The black cloud that had been directly in front was now still directly in front but at least it was a good few miles away. Not to worry, Jim and Nick dragged the bunch along at considerable speed through Brean, Berrow and into Burnham in an insane attempt to try and catch it for some reason. We finally succeeded along the A38 prompting a temporary stop to don our rain jackets. The rain then persisted until Puriton where it hammered down forcing the group to take shelter under trees. What a bunch of wussies.
The rain abated and we went the most direct route to Sweets to meet the birthday boys Bernie and Keith. I was looking forward to a rub down from Vicky with a warm towel. Father Christmas had clearly got stuck in a chimney again practicing for Christmas and scraped a few bits of skin off. Nice to see loads of the old crowd there. Too many to mention but we all know who they were. Out in the conservatory we heard the rendition of Happy Birthday followed by a delivery of cake from Keith. In all the excitement Nine Pints covered his helmet in gold top and was trying to wipe up before Vicky appeared. Embarrassing for someone of his age. The cake was annihilated and we questioned whether or not Ivan's eye's were bigger than his belly. Stupid question really, of course they're not.
We said our farewells and stepped outside to the sight of Jeannie and Tony fixing punctures. After a slight delay we started the return journey via Notting Hill, A38 and Cross etc. At Banana Corner there is usually a split with riders either heading towards Banwell or Bleadon. For some strange reason everyone except Jeannie decided to head towards Banwell. Just outside Banwell we waited for Ivan and watched the bad weather roll across the levels. It wasn't long before it was chucking it down again and we slogged home in the wet.
Despite the weather it was a grand day out (Grommit). Best birthday wishes to Bernie and Keith. Can't wait for the 90th birthday celebrations. Jeannie's promised a stripper.
OJC: 3, TTCR: 10/10 for birthday cakes, KFC: 7/10