Category: Pig & Abbot

At last! A dry Thursday

Graham’s plan to meet everyone over coffee in The Chestnut Tree took a knock when he sustained a puncture just outside West Wratting. So instead of warming himself with a hot drink in the pub, he was seen wrestling with tyre levers out in the garden.

How many Windmillers does it take to mend a puncture?

Pesky puncture repaired, we set off towards Dullingham and Newmarket, thirteen Windmillers looking forward to Graham’s new route and enjoying our first dry ride in a month.

Victor, feeling particularly welcome in Newmarket

It was in Newmarket that Graham introduced us to a new (to us) café in the town centre, albeit one hidden away up a side street, called Victor Victoria. The coffee, cake and, according to Jeremy, the porridge too, were all top notch. We must make a return visit soon.

Before resuming our ride, we paused to look at the Memorial to Bill Tutte, 1917 – 2002. A Newmarket man, Tutte is commemorated for cracking the code used to communicate with the German navy during WW2.

Back on the bikes, we headed for Moulton and thence Cheveley, Saxon Street and Kirtling – where we encountered the surprise of the day, a pair of emus peering at us through a wire fence.

Suffolk is full of surprises; a pair of emus photographed near Kirtling

Returning to the The Chestnut Tree having clocked up 32 miles and looking forward to a well deserved beer, we were warmly received by Landlords Peter and Rachel – and delighted to be joined by Maurice, Martin and Ken for lunch.

Victor leading the way, snapped by Charles

For the record our peloton comprised: Alan, Brian, Charles, Chris, Geoff, Graham, Hazel, Jeremy, Rod, Roger, Sandra, Simon and Victor

Thanks go to Graham for organising things, devising an excellent route and finding a really good venue for future coffee stops.

Earlier in the week we were saddened to hear of the sudden death of Mick Thompson who, alongside his wife Pat, ran the Pig & Abbot, one of our favourite lunch spots. Our thoughts are with Pat at this difficult time.

On behalf of the Windmillers, Maurice will be making a donation to Cancer Research UK, Pat’s chosen charity.

Brian

Tags The Chestnut Tree, Windmill cycling club

Pig & Abbot

Another wet one

It was more of a steady drizzle than the stair rods of a couple of weeks ago, though the result was much the same; eleven soggy Windmillers drying out over a pint.

Ken had planned a 30-mile outing but, given the forecast, very wisely decided to put the start back an hour, knock ten miles off the thirty and, much to Deborah’s chagrin, ditch the coffee stop too.

So it was that an all-weather team comprising Brian, Charles, Deborah, Geoff, Graham, Jeremy, Ken, Rod, Roger, SimonT and Tom, having fuelled up on Landlady Pat’s coffee and biscuits, set off from the Pig & Abbot for a soggy Thursday outing.

It was one of those we’ve started so we’re jolly well going to finish it sort of rides, heads down into the rain, only interrupted by Brian sustaining an early puncture. But that was soon fixed and we were underway once more, completing the course at quite a lick.

Back at the pub we were delighted to be joined by Andrew, SimonO and Maurice who, two weeks on from his knee op, was looking very chipper, hobbling around with the help of a stick.

Just before sitting down to lunch we received news that Martin would be going into Addenbrookes for major surgery the very next day. Good Lord, Martin! We duly raised a glass and wished him well.

As ever, Pat served up her splendid pies in all their many varieties (steak & kidney being my personal favourite, Ed) and we looked on aghast as our legendary trencherman Charles went the whole hog, following up his pie with sticky toffee pudding and custard. He is such a skinny whippet, where does he put it all?

Thanks go to Ken for organising everything and for his doggedness in getting us all to turn out in such character building weather.

Brian

PS: We are glad to hear that Martin’s op went well and we look forward to seeing him back in the peloton soon. As Rod quipped, he is now a semi-colon publisher.

21 miles clockwise from Abington Pigotts

Tags Abington Pigotts, Pig & Abbot, Windmill cycling club

Pig & Abbot

Happy Birthday, Maurice!

It’s a tricky time of year for the fashion conscious Windmiller. What’s one to wear on these between-the-seasons outings? With the exception of Victor, most agree it’s a little early for shorts and opt to retain winter leggings and layers. But then there’s Simon who, disdainful of cyclewear, nails it with white cotton twill shirt, cashmere cardigan and flannel trousers, making the rest of us look positively dowdy.

Deborah, Sandra, fashion influencer Simon, Alan and Geoff

So it was that Thursday morning saw the Windmillers heading out from the Pig & Abbot in various states of attire. Fuelled up on landlady Pat’s coffee and biscuits, Maurice, Charles, Howard Ric and Victor set off at a cracking pace, followed some five minutes later by Brian, Alan, Deborah, Geoff, Sandra and Simon.

Lounging around at Cockayne Hatley: Howard, Maurice, Ric and Victor

Seventeen miles in, we were eager to top up our caffeine and sugar levels and pulled in for coffee and cake at Waresley.

Stop pointing that bloody phone at me, Charles!

Simon making friends with the local wildlife

Back on the bikes, we headed for Great Gransden before turning south for the the return leg to Abington Pigotts.

Arriving at the Pig & Abbot, we were delighted to be joined by Lawrence. Birthday boy, Maurice bought the beers and we settled down to enjoy Pat’s excellent pies and the beer is excellent, especially when Maurice is buying.

30 miles clockwise: Abington Pigotts, Guilden Morden, Wrestlingworth, Cockayne Hatley, Potton, Waresley, The Gransdens, Hatley St George, Wendy, Shingay, Abington Pigotts

Thanks, as ever, to Maurice for the route – and the beer. Also Charles and Simon for the photographs; there’s many more here in the club album.

Brian

Tags Abington Pigotts, Maurice Warner, Pig & Abbot, Windmill cycling club

Pig & Abbot

Haggis – and a tumble

Thursday’s ride was a memorable one for Hazel as, just a few miles short of the finish she took a tumble, sustaining some painful cuts and bruises, not to mention torn cyclewear and a damaged bike.

The mishap, at a tight bend on a quiet road, was most likely due to diesel spillage, a well documented hazard for cyclists and motorcyclists alike, and one we have experienced before; indeed, some of you may remember Chris suffered similarly, and at virtually the same spot, some three years ago.

We are glad to hear Hazel, while still feeling somewhat the worse for wear, is on the mend and we look forward to her joining us again soon.

Confounding the forecast of fine weather, it was a fine drizzle that saw us heading out earlier from Abington Pigotts, a drizzle that stayed with us all the way to our refreshment stop at Waresley. Drying out over coffee and cake, some swapped stories of Burns Night suppers while others lamented they had never even tried haggis. Well today was their big chance.

The return leg was thankfully dry and sunny. Back at the Pig & Abbot we enjoyed a restorative pint before, summoned to our table, landlady Pat presented a magnificent haggis, prompting Andrew, our resident Scot, to rise and launch into – not just one – but all eight verses of Rabbie Burns’ Address to a Haggis. Mid-way through, and proclaiming, “An cut you up . . . trenching your gushing entrails bright” he waved a knife alarmingly close to Ken’s nose before slicing the beast open to rapturous applause, while across the pub vegans cowered into their nut roasts.

For the record, Thursday’s turnout was thirteen Windmillers, namely: Andrew, Brian, Charles, Deborah, Geoff, Graham, Jeremy, Hazel, Howard, Ken, Maurice, Rod and Sandra

30 miles anticlockwise from Abington Pigotts

A special thanks to Maurice for scooping up Hazel and her bike after the accident and ferrying both home.

Address to a Haggis, by Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! 
Aboon them a' ye tak your place, 
Painch, tripe, or thairm : 
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace 
As lang's my arm. 

The groaning trencher there ye fill, 
Your hurdies like a distant hill, 
Your pin wad help to mend a mill 
In time o'need, 
While thro' your pores the dews distil 
Like amber bead. 

His knife see rustic Labour dight, 
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, 
Trenching your gushing entrails bright, 
Like ony ditch; 
And then, O what a glorious sight, 
Warm-reekin', rich! 

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive: 
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive, 
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve 
Are bent like drums; 
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 
Bethankit! hums. 

Is there that owre his French ragout 
Or olio that wad staw a sow, 
Or fricassee wad make her spew 
Wi' perfect sconner, 
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 
On sic a dinner? 

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, 
As feckless as wither'd rash, 
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash; 
His nieve a nit; 
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 
O how unfit! 

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, 
The trembling earth resounds his tread. 
Clap in his walie nieve a blade, 
He'll mak it whissle; 
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned, 
Like taps o' thrissle. 

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, 
And dish them out their bill o' fare, 
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware 
That jaups in luggies; 
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer 
Gie her a haggis!

Tags Windmill cycling club