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Full of Beans, Somerton.
Route out will be Puxton, Sandford, Winscombe, Cheddar should you wish to latch on.
Route out will be Puxton, Sandford, Winscombe, Cheddar should you wish to latch on.
2 posters
Saturday 3rd June - Summer town
anti-climb max- Posts : 781
Join date : 2012-07-05
Age : 110
Location : location location, homes under the hammer, flog it
showmethecakes- Posts : 350
Join date : 2012-07-01
Age : 111
Location : Weston-super-Mare
Didn't seem to be that many out at Priory considering the forecast. A few were waiting at Sandford although Andy had gone home already. Apparently he snapped a cable. More likely he'd had enough motorbike talk from Burns and rather than cut his wrists decided a cable was going to get the chop instead.
Usual form for a Saturday ride. Full gas. Stop. Full gas. Stop. Eventually it settled down across to Shapwick where several motorists were getting a little impatient following the group. The penultimate vehicle to try and pass couldn't have timed it better, getting halfway past the group and meeting a car coming the other way, all under the gaze of Mr Plod who was following behind. Showing how it should be done the police car then drove past the group uphill and around a blind corner.
The local yob had obviously seen this example of advanced driving and tried to do the same but, unlike the police car, he met a car coming the other way and abruptly came to a stop.
At the bottom of High Ham the group split with a few heading for Mucky McShites Farm around the bottom with the others going over the top. Jeannie was keen to avoid the main road to Somerton so Neil pulled the group along to the t-junction at the end of High Ham and straight out onto the main road to Somerton.
There were concerns that the cafe would not cater for all of us. There had been attempts to telephone ahead at various points along the way to give them due warning. However, between Ivan's lack of 3G, Steve's no signal and a general lack of mobile technology the best we could come up with was to Phone Martin, who was presumably at home, ask him to Google the number, text it back to Steve who would then pass it on to Ivan who would then phone the cafe. In the end we got hold of the number and phoned them up. Shame there was no answer.
Obviously when technology fails you have to improvise and do it the old fashioned way. This involved Ivan getting to the cafe about 5 minutes before everyone else to tell them that about 15 cyclists were on their way! The woman in the cafe looked delighted and immediately resorted to what Windows refer to as 'Safe Mode'. This means only being able to do one thing at a time and nothing too complicated such as making toast or heating a tin of beans. A few who wanted hot food decided the cafe on the square was a better option but those of us who were happy with just cake and coffee stayed. Fair play to the woman in the cafe who actually did a really good job of getting all the food and drinks out in good time. I think the only loser was Burns the Bread who'd asked for Beluga Caviar on lightly toasted Duchy of Cornwall sourdough with a glass of Dom Perignon 2006. Apparently they were clean out of caviar.
After various conversations, the only one of which I can remember is that Burns prefers large German models whereas Ivan likes a spritely Italian, we departed and met with the others in the square. The Gough Meister had appeared from somewhere and joined us for the ride back. As he hit the front there was nothing for it but to follow the bear. We all 'did' the corner rather than 'die' at which point I recalled an uphill Strava segment I had seen in Plymouth. Someone had called it: "Die Trying you Fat C**t". Not sure how long that one will stay live.
The rant to Glasto never really got going but we still felt the need for a 10 minute stop by the Memorial. Jeannie's TT bike refused to go up Daggs Lane and Neil's legs also refused to go up Daggs Lane. Half way up a lady had enough time to make a brew and offer him a cup of tea but Neil soldiered on to the top complaining of cramp in every muscle. I've heard of cases like this before. "What's that bulge in the front of your trousers"? "Don't worry dear, it's just cramp". Nick had a similar problem at Cross just off the A38. He had two large lumps sticking out behind. Then he remembered, this was called his arse.
More tearful separations at Loxton with the A team heading home via Bleadon. Wayne was nursing a soft front tyre but no doubt was still considering doing a 30 mile extra loop when he got into Weston. Lofty was clearly delirious as he said he wasn't going over Bleadon Hill and then went straight up it. The only sane riders left appeared to be myself and Nine Pints and that's saying something. Jeannie was happy that the recovery ride had gone well and we all returned home happy ever after.
OJC: No idea, TTCR: 6/10 for effort, KFC: 7/10.
Usual form for a Saturday ride. Full gas. Stop. Full gas. Stop. Eventually it settled down across to Shapwick where several motorists were getting a little impatient following the group. The penultimate vehicle to try and pass couldn't have timed it better, getting halfway past the group and meeting a car coming the other way, all under the gaze of Mr Plod who was following behind. Showing how it should be done the police car then drove past the group uphill and around a blind corner.
The local yob had obviously seen this example of advanced driving and tried to do the same but, unlike the police car, he met a car coming the other way and abruptly came to a stop.
At the bottom of High Ham the group split with a few heading for Mucky McShites Farm around the bottom with the others going over the top. Jeannie was keen to avoid the main road to Somerton so Neil pulled the group along to the t-junction at the end of High Ham and straight out onto the main road to Somerton.
There were concerns that the cafe would not cater for all of us. There had been attempts to telephone ahead at various points along the way to give them due warning. However, between Ivan's lack of 3G, Steve's no signal and a general lack of mobile technology the best we could come up with was to Phone Martin, who was presumably at home, ask him to Google the number, text it back to Steve who would then pass it on to Ivan who would then phone the cafe. In the end we got hold of the number and phoned them up. Shame there was no answer.
Obviously when technology fails you have to improvise and do it the old fashioned way. This involved Ivan getting to the cafe about 5 minutes before everyone else to tell them that about 15 cyclists were on their way! The woman in the cafe looked delighted and immediately resorted to what Windows refer to as 'Safe Mode'. This means only being able to do one thing at a time and nothing too complicated such as making toast or heating a tin of beans. A few who wanted hot food decided the cafe on the square was a better option but those of us who were happy with just cake and coffee stayed. Fair play to the woman in the cafe who actually did a really good job of getting all the food and drinks out in good time. I think the only loser was Burns the Bread who'd asked for Beluga Caviar on lightly toasted Duchy of Cornwall sourdough with a glass of Dom Perignon 2006. Apparently they were clean out of caviar.
After various conversations, the only one of which I can remember is that Burns prefers large German models whereas Ivan likes a spritely Italian, we departed and met with the others in the square. The Gough Meister had appeared from somewhere and joined us for the ride back. As he hit the front there was nothing for it but to follow the bear. We all 'did' the corner rather than 'die' at which point I recalled an uphill Strava segment I had seen in Plymouth. Someone had called it: "Die Trying you Fat C**t". Not sure how long that one will stay live.
The rant to Glasto never really got going but we still felt the need for a 10 minute stop by the Memorial. Jeannie's TT bike refused to go up Daggs Lane and Neil's legs also refused to go up Daggs Lane. Half way up a lady had enough time to make a brew and offer him a cup of tea but Neil soldiered on to the top complaining of cramp in every muscle. I've heard of cases like this before. "What's that bulge in the front of your trousers"? "Don't worry dear, it's just cramp". Nick had a similar problem at Cross just off the A38. He had two large lumps sticking out behind. Then he remembered, this was called his arse.
More tearful separations at Loxton with the A team heading home via Bleadon. Wayne was nursing a soft front tyre but no doubt was still considering doing a 30 mile extra loop when he got into Weston. Lofty was clearly delirious as he said he wasn't going over Bleadon Hill and then went straight up it. The only sane riders left appeared to be myself and Nine Pints and that's saying something. Jeannie was happy that the recovery ride had gone well and we all returned home happy ever after.
OJC: No idea, TTCR: 6/10 for effort, KFC: 7/10.
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