A warm and sunny Thursday morning saw twelve Windmillers turning out for a ride from Widdington to Finchingfield and back. Joining us for the first time was Howard who, having bought a car from Maurice’s nephew, had been given a hot tip; check out the Windmill Club! Howard joins our growing contingent of riders from Saffron Walden.
We were also glad to see Graham back and looking fit as a fiddle.
Picking our way through the contractors digging up the road outside the Fleur de Lys, Maurice – closely followed by Andrew, Sandra, Deborah, Ken, Graham, Ric, Chris, Geoff, Roger, Brian and Howard – led the way out towards Debden and on to Radwinter.
We noticed Geoff wasn’t riding his usual machine; alas it had been stolen while on a cycling holiday. But there was a happy ending – within a few days of reporting his loss the insurance company had stumped up the money in full. Geoff will be out on a new bike – same as the last one – very soon.
Arriving in Finchingfield, we found Bosworth’s Tea Room had closed, been refurbished and had now reopened as Winners Tea Room. And very good it was too, with better cakes and better coffee.
On the return leg, and just a few hundred yards from the Fleur, Roger pulled up with a puncture. What is it with that section of road at the top of Widdington? Roger is the third Windmiller – after Brian and Martin – to suffer a puncture there.
Arriving back at the Fleur we were greeted by John Bagrie and, rearranging the tables, the whole gang of us sat down to a fine lunch in the garden. It seems hardly a week goes by without a birthday and the associated pressure to buy everyone a beer. This time it was Ken’s turn.
Inspired by our recent visit to P&A Wood, Deborah had brought along a family heirloom. Written by her grandfather-in-law, Bryan Goodman, it was a boxed, gilt edged, two volume history of the Edwardian Rolls-Royce. Very impressive.
Thanks, Maurice and Andrew, for organising another fine summer outing.
Brian
Footnote: Riding home through Newport after lunch, Brian and Ric had to swerve to avoid a semi-naked man, chased by a policeman, running at full tilt down the middle of the High Street. Newport, eh? A little town full of surprises.
