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‘Twas the day after the Windmill Christmas lunch and not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse….

Well actually, the mice might have thought it was too cold and windy to head out, but not us ! We were lured out by the offer of a slightly later start, slightly shorter ride and mulled wine and mince pies to finish.

Maurice and Lynn were hosting from Heath Farm. This meant the ride started uphill to Reed Joint and continued to go up and down hill all the way round. The route took us past Therfield, Sandon, Buckden then back via Barkway and Barley, with the final stretch up hill into a stiff cold breeze to Heath Farm. Closer to 35km than our usual 50km but more than far enough and hilly enough for the day.

Luckily for us, Lynn had been slaving away in the kitchen to serve up wine and mince pies and cream when we arrived back – also cheese and coffee for those in need of something more hearty !

Many thanks, as always, to our hosts and a non denominational “Season’s Greetings” not only to the day’s riders but everyone else that made it another thoroughly enjoyable year of cycling. Raise a glass to your saddle companions and here’s to many more enjoyable outings in 2025. Cheers.

Riders, from blurry memory: Jenni, Debs, Nigel, Neil, Martin, Graham, Alan, Victor, Brian, Ric, Maurice, Charles, Jeremy, Simon, Roger, Keith, Howard, Rod and Iain for pies.

What sane person would choose to cycle on a cold foggy winter day, only a Windmiller. Windmiller’s are built of sound stuff and come rain, shine, frost of fog, on a Thursday morning you’ll find a group of old friends pedaling their local back lanes. This Thursday, as we assembled at the Fox and Duck in Therfield, it was a gloomy foggy morning and we knew that the usual long views as we left Therfield would be lost in the cloud. Lights were needed and those without were advised to pedal within the peloton.

Setting off in 2 groups, group 1 were misled by their leader and took the long route to the Wallington road, group 2 led by Keith, who followed the correct route reached the Wallington turn first. The road was CLOSED but the workmen, understanding that any diversion for cyclist would be unsafe, allowed us through, provided we walked past work in progress. They were fixing the potholes and drains. No cyclist should ever stop pothole filling, any workers doing that need our thanks. It was a pothole that was Graham’s downfall, fortunately he’s now on the mend.

Wallington is famous for being the village where George Orwell lived for 4 years prior to WW2, and the local village church is where he married his first wife Eileen. It was the local Manor Farm that provided the setting for his most famous book Animal Farm, which was set in the village of Willingdon. Although there may still be pigs who walk on their hind legs at the farm, it was too foggy to see any.

For those of us wearing specs, these soon became wet and steamy, restricting visibility and making the fog appear thicker than is was, my excuse for getting lost. Fortunately Martin has found the solution, although how practical these would be on a bike remains to be tested:

Keith identified an alternative solution, although his could prove tricky on some of the narrow styles we had to negotiate:

I digress, back to the ride. Leaving Willingdon, sorry Wallington, the road became a tarmac race track, the smoothest and newest tarmac we’ve seen in the many rides we’ve had this year. Why a very minor road leading to a small hamlet should have such a surface is a mystery, but maybe that’s the future for Hertfordshire lanes.

Pressing on through Baldock the next obstacle was Weston Hill, a long and steep climb, but then a fast run to our coffee stop at Church Farm Ardeley, where Group 2 had already arrived. First to the coffee stop though was Martin, who arriving late at the pub, had taken a more direct route cutting out Wallington and Baldock. He was fortunate to arrive as, as far as I’m aware, he is the first cyclist to collide with a Red Kite, which flew out from a hedge and almost knocked him off his bike. He’ll have had birdies in golf but this must be a first for cycling.

The return to the pub was uneventful, Group 2 taking the plotted route along a gravel trail, Group 1 choosing to stick to the muddy lanes. I must look more closely at what is plotted in future, less rush more care. But Jeremy did say the gravel was good.

A warm welcome back at the Fox and Duck, for what might be our last visit while Ivan is the landlord, he leave the F&D at the end of March for what he says will be some time out after over 12 years at the pub. A well deserved rest.

Considering the day, it was a good turn-out of riders: Martin, Gareth, Geoff, Howard, Jeremy, Keith, Neil, Nigel, Paul, Roger and Rod, with Maurice, Graham and Ken joining for lunch.

Rod – who has yet to workout how to copy the route into a blog!

It’s been a Black week for Windmillers. Other than Black Friday when hopefully some bargains were found, we had Black Ice Thursday which felled four Windmillers resulting in a different kind of Black Friday, plus Black Saturday and Black Sunday for Brian when the bruises appeared from his Thursday fall. But that didn’t stop him riding 26 miles on Monday with his Shelford Spokes group – a man truly made of sterner stuff.

Worst of all, however, was Black Monday for Graham who had a horrific accident near Harlow whilst doing a recce for his planned ride on 5 December, resulting in a blue light and siren rush to A&E to be assessed for his injuries and to be stitched up. It seems a water filled pothole was responsible for throwing him off his bike and landing on his helmet which got trashed in the process – without that it could have been a lot worse. Thankfully he was discharged early on Black Tuesday and was able to join us all for lunch after our ride and to show off his cuts and bruises – another great example of sterner stuff.

And it’s good to know there are still Good Samaritans amongst us. Graham fell outside a guy’s house on a quiet lane and was discovered lying unconscious in the road by his daughter. Together they managed to get him up and indoors where they called the ambulance and cleaned him up as best they could. The guy then delivered Graham’s bruised but not broken bike back to Ickleton a few days later. He deserves a medal.

So it was in a mood of careful riding and thankfulness that there was a short window of dry, mild weather available that 17 Windmillers set off on a hastily but brilliantly organised ride by Jeremy from The Pig and Abbott in Abington Pigotts which replaced Graham’s proposed ride. To achieve a pub booking for such a large number, let alone at the home of Pat’s famous pies, also deserves a medal.

Those riding were Alan, Charles, Deborah (from half way), Geoff, Howard, Jeremy, Keith, Martin W, Maurice, Neil, Nigel, Paul, Ric, Rod, Simon, Tom and Victor. This is where we went:

Setting off in three groups clockwise via Wendy and Croydon it wasn’t long before we reached Wimpole and climbed up to the ridge to enjoy magnificent views towards Barkway and Chrishall, where groups 1 & 2 merged for a while for the obligatory photos:

Descending from the ridge, the route bypassed the Wimpole Hall café and took us through to Orwell, Barrington and Shepreth before smelling the coffee on the outskirts of Melbourn where a high quality stop was made at Hot Numbers, and where Deborah joined us for the rest of the ride:

After coffee the route took us via Meldreth, Bassingbourn and Shingay although it was tempting to take a cheeky short cut in Litlington and get back to the bar first at The Pig and Abbott.

Back at the pub a warm welcome was received as usual from Pat and her staff where it was good to be joined by Graham, loooking better but still a bit worse for wear, and Brian who kindly drove him over. Unfortunately, Brian probably overdid it earlier in the week such that his leg was not quite ready for a 30 mile ride. We wish both him and Graham a speedy recovery from their injuries.

Thanks to Jeremy for planning and organising the ride at such short notice and to assistant photographers Charles and Simon.

Martin

Water is essential for life on earth. What is less obvious is that the almost unique properties of water ice are also essential for allowing life to exist and evolve. With high specific heat capacity, low thermal conductivity and high albedo, surface ice plays a pivotal role in regulating the earth’s temperature and hence climate.

At atmospheric pressure, water freezes to its solid state at a temperature of approximately 0 °C (or lower for salinated water). The heat of fusion of water is 334 kilojoules per kilogram. The specific heat of ice at the freezing point is 2.04 kilojoules per kilogram per degree Celsius and the thermal conductivity at this temperature is 2.24 Watts per metre Kelvin. Most materials contract when cooled but water is different. As water freezes into ice, its molecules arrange themselves into a regular lattice structure through hydrogen bonds. This is more spaced out than in liquid water, expanding its volume by about 9%. This unique property results in ice having a lower density than water, allowing ice to float (and burst water pipes).

The fourteen Windmillers gathering at the Black Horse, Brent Pelham on Thursday morning did not have the wonders of ice uppermost in their minds, however. For them the salient properties of ice at that time were merely: ‘Cold’ and ‘Very Slippery’ and ‘Not a Good Thing’. Indeed, Roger had already suffered a fall whilst cycling to the start.

After coffee and lodging food orders at the pub, riders headed off on one of the minor roads hereabouts – with a well founded degree of trepidation! This trepidation was well founded; the road was a proverbial mine field of semi thawed water and sheet ice. In the space of the next 2km, three riders had succumbed to gravity. Brian having taken a particularly hefty knock to the hip, he and Jeremy sensibly abandoned the riding for the day, whilst Rod soldiered on (I was instructed not to say “hip, hip, hooray” here, so I won’t). Importantly, no bikes were damaged.

A new plan was required ! Just as discretion is the better part of valour, so cowardice is the better part of discretion. We decided to shorten our ride and stick to larger roads where possible, with the new, closer, coffee destination of Dorringtons in Newport proposed. In true Windmill fashion, a split resulted in two different routes to coffee. One group plodded on via Ansty whilst the majority turned tail and headed to Newport via Clavering. Thankfully no further falls. Brian and Jeremy resorted to the car to join us for coffee and cake.

By now, the sun had been on the exposed roads for a few hours, so we opted to turn our route into a circuit by heading to Rickling and Stocking Pelham. Riding was fun again !

Finally back at the pub and joined by Keith and Ken, we were well served to excellent food and beer. If it wasn’t for poor Brian limping around acting as a reminder, we could almost have forgotten the dramas at the start of the day.

The big picture: Ice can be a real downer for cyclists, but without it cyclists wouldn’t exist to start with.

Thanks to Martin for organising the route, even though the script got totally rewritten !

Martin, Victor, Andrew, Geoff, Graham, Rod, Nigel, Jeremy, Brian, Roger, Alan, Howard, Simon, Chris, Charles

Ken and Keith for lunch.

November 14th, another Thursday and I wake up to fog. I draw the curtains, the grass is still growing, the leaves are still on the trees. It’s my son’s birthday he’s 32. I remember the fortnight before his birth only too well. Nottingham had snow on the roads for all of the two weeks before. The ruts were so deep I had to park the car several streets away from the hospital and trudge the rest with two carrier bags. They mostly contained spare clothes, nuts and chocolate. Apparently women in late pregnancy double their calorie intake. Believe me that’s a lot of nuts.

Still this day was warm enough for shorts, just about. I got the bike out but could hardly see the road from the house. Still off to a Maurice organised ride from the Black Bull at Balsham. The fog on the way was even worse than at home.

Driving along I remembered on my son’s 10th birthday, our first in Chrishall, it snowed. His birthday party turned into a massive snowball fight. I’m convinced there is no joy greater than when 10 year old’s engage in a snowball fight. My only regret was I missed much of it while consoling a delicate, weeping boy whose hands were too cold to stay outside. The tears were half for the pain, half for missing the fun. A terrible life-lesson for anyone too sensitive about their environment.

Coffee and a chat in the car park passed the time as the fog gradually lifted.

It was predicted to clear around 10.30. Although they aren’t perfect, I’m sure weather forecasts are better than they used to be. It transpired that they were right this time.

See the fog at the start. Like hovering rain, it stuck to my legs. Yuk, where was that sun.

I set off thinking about how there had been no snow on his 20th or 30th birthday. I started thinking about the Gaia theory (pronounced Ga-ee-ya) In this theory, stuff living on the planet, in the oceans, jungles and everywhere else, interacts with the environment to form a self-regulating system that makes life on Earth possible, by stabilizing the system as a whole. So, you can think of the earth, the whole environment, as very like yourself on a ride, cold at the start, warm after a while and back to normal after half an hour in the pub. A wonderful self-regulating machine.

If you look at the temperature for November in the UK you might see what I mean. The black-dashed line in the picture above is the average, the trend, over 130 years.

Looking at the dashed-black trend line, in 1900 the earth is a bit warm, but by 1920 is back to feeling normal again. This undulation in temperate has been going on for thousands of years. Undulations that return to where you start will feel very familiar to anyone riding with the club. By 1950 it’s getting warm again, but as Gaia theory would predict, all the living stuff on the planet starts to restore normality. However, by 1970 it can’t quite do it, something’s in the self-correction machine is bust.

I’ll leave you to contemplate how thinking of the whole earth as being like a ‘single body’, like yourself, is a bit like a religious belief. After all, many ‘primitive’ religions emphasized one-ness with the sky, the rocks and rivers, being as one with all living and non living things.

One thing this religion of ‘eco-stuff’, like Gaia, does have in common with other faiths, is that it annoys people. It annoys them a lot. Its like having a Methodist berating you about drinking beer. “For goodness, sake leave me alone, I’m a grown-up”. Or a Jehovah’s Witness on blood transfusion. “My blood, my business”. Likewise, my organs, and as long as I’m completely done with them, I’d be delighted to help someone else. If you ask me, it’s wicked to bury or burn life-transforming biological material. That’s my firmly held belief, but you don’t have to share it.

So, no preaching about the climate. The data are the data and likewise your experiences might make you suspect that the trend is right. Remembering my son’s birthdays has convinced me, looking at data from expensive satellites has too. Some truth is inconvenient, that’s why it isn’t always popular.

By 11 the world around me had nicely warmed up, as had I. Time for a coffee at at Winners in Finchingfield. Nice place, very efficient and Group 1 (Roger, Maurice, Alan, Charles, Rod and Howard) already had their coffee and were comfortably seated outside.

If there had been more space outside, group 2 would have opted for that as well. But they had nicked all the nice spaces.

So group 2 (Neil, Myself, Brian, Tom, Chris, Gareth, Martin) settled for coffee and a cake inside. We made the best of it.

Actually it turned out to be a beautiful ride, designed by Maurice, with a few gentle undulations. Just enough to keep it interesting.

Special mention goes to Martin since it was his first 30 mile cycle for a while. Having missed much of the summer, at least there was a little sunshine and it must have been great to get out again.

Back at the pub we had a table and a room of our own. The service was as welcoming and as swift as ever. My meal was only interrupted when I realised I hadn’t paid at Winners.

Too busy taking photos for this blog. Still they were very nice about it. And lest we forget something much more important I include one of my pictures here.

Nice ride. Not too complicated. Made time for a bit of contemplating and reminiscing. Not too much I hope, since we all have to focus on enjoying the here and now.

Still this weather makes you think. Doesn’t it?

…to paraphrase the late Larry Grayson. Grey it certainly was, although mild for the time of year and not raining. Greyness didn’t deter a great turnout of 17 riders from congregating at the ever popular Pig and Abbot in Abbington Piggots (or, as spell check would have it, “Pig and Albert”).

Maurice asserted his leadership rights and set off into the murk with the first group, followed at a respectable distance by two other groups. Good roads and a lack of significant breeze, punctures or hills meant a good pace was maintained up to Waresely (ignoring the route plan across a field), and a return to the Waresely garden centre, always an efficient café.

For those old timers that believed that Christmas happened in December, it was a slightly bewildering experience to be directed to the exit via halls and halls of tinselly decorations (or “bah, humbug landfill tat”, as this scribe would have it – not a view universally held in his household I should add).

Back on the road and the pace continued to be high, with group three putting Rod’s new motor under some strain in their attempts to overhaul group two.

No incidents meant that all riders were back in plenty of time to enjoy beer and Pat’s pies in a pleasantly filled pub (good to have Martin W join for lunch).

Much bike cleaning will be needed after that very enjoyable outing, or to give the last word back to Larry Grayson: “Look at the muck on ‘ere”.

Maurice, Andrew, Alan, Brian, Charles, Deborah, Geoff, Graham, Howard, Jeremy, Ken, Neil, Nigel, Rod, Simon, Tom, Victor

The title could be a reference to the outstanding performance of England’s cricketers on the 4th day of the first Test match in Pakistan – but it isn’t. It is a reference to the 1000mph hurricane force winds forecast for today by the BBC. A quick glance outside quickly put minds to rest: Neighbourhood dustbins were still in place, chimney pots were still intact and no one’s granny was blowing down the street. OK, there was a bit of a North Westerly pushing a few clouds about but the consensus was that the BBC had got their forecast slightly awry. Ride on !

Today’s ride started from the ever popular Fox and Duck in Therfield. Ever the cheapskates, the route had been re-routed to avoid a 15% service charge for groups at the originally planned coffee stop. Instead it was headed for the Mixing Shed café via an unusually long 57km route over familiar territory through the Windmill club heartlands. 18 riders set off in, typically, two uneven sized groups (or was it 3 groups ? some had set off already before I got to the start ! There were 5 in the last group).

The coffee stop is well under halfway round and was reached without incident, although two of us did elect to avoid the off road section across to Bilden End as a steady but light drizzle had set in. The mixing shed has not been open for very long but is already a popular venue for cyclists and “ladies who lunch”. Coffee and cake was excellent (if not the cheapest) but the number of thirsty visitors meant this was never going to be the fastest coffee stop !

Nevertheless, the first group managed the return leg via Buntingford in plenty of time for scheduled lunch. Meanwhile, all was not going so well in the last group. The marketing ‘blurb’ would have us believe that tubeless tyres are the answer to all our puncture woes, and to be fair they work well most of the time. HOWEVER when they don’t work it’s messy and time consuming job to get back on the road, as Paul was about to find out when his rear tyre suddenly went flat.

When a hole in a tubeless tyre is too big to self repair, it is possible to insert ‘plugs’ to partially fill the hole. This was the first port of call. Unfortunately with no high pressure pump, it proved impossible to reseat the tyre and with a failed CO2 inflator also abandoned it was onto the messy plan B: an old fashioned inner tube. By the time all had been fixed and various tools and pumps returned to their owners, the executive decision had to be taken to cut the return short, missing out Buntingford in the process.

All safely back at the busy Fox and Duck and having dried out in the improving weather, all riders were able to tuck into their well earned lunches and talk the usual nonsense that Windmillers do over beer. Many thanks to Rod for organising.

Rod, Maurice, Ric, Howard, Debs, Sandra, Neil, Nigel, John, Tom, Alan, Brian, Charles, Geoff, Roger, Victor, Graham, Paul.

After a spell riding the lost railways of Andalusia it was back to Blighty and the Red Lion at Gt. Sampford. Once again the sun shone on a Maurice Ride with blue skies, a slight chill that disappeared by 10, and what turned out to be a fine ride through the deserted lanes of Essex.

Deborah was early. Yes you read that right. But she was using Jennie’s bike and a borrowed car, so the chaos of her house moving/renovating, bike loss, bike maintenance etc remains a much discussed Windmill Club saga. A bit like The Archers, but more interesting.

Our route is below.

I was in group one, lead by Maurice with; Paul, Rod, Gareth and me. Most of the pictures though are from group two; Jeremy, Graham, Howard, Roger, Kieth, Deborah and Andrew. This group followed the usual etiquette and got their group photo with the Gibraltar Mill, Great Bardfield in the background.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until we arrived at Tarka’s. We left our bikes up against the side of the cafe, since the ‘fence’ is only a couple of wires. One of the staff came straight out and told us not to leave bikes there because if people tripped over them on the way to the toilets then Tarka’s would be sued.

Intuitively I felt that this possibility was unlikely. We have experts in insurance within the Windmill Club, just like on every other subject, but I felt I could manage without additional guidance. I suggested that we move the bicycles to the other side of the wire. There they would be on the public road and covered by someone else’s insurance. But no, that was no good. Apparently the cafe was being enlarged and our bikes would be in the way of construction traffic. I stifled the thought that this was probably so that they could sell still more coffee and cake at £8 a go to cyclists, but instead suggested instead that we might take them round the back. But no, that wasn’t possible either.

I felt a rising sense of despair as I contemplated exactly what it was, that was within my power, which would make this lady happy. After all they have not (yet) invented hovering bikes or ones that take themselves for a ride while you have a quiet coffee. All the discussion was a pity really since this place is normally friendly enough. Eventually the fuss died down, we moved the bikes onto the ‘ultra-busy’ road, which is a dead-end and also serves a sleepy antique shop, then got on with our coffee. I made a mental note that, if they ever do provide some bike stands, I must leave my bike well away from the antique shop.

No complaints when the cakes arrived though.

I only ate half of my cake. Then, since I was riding a light-weight bike, I wrapped the rest in a serviette and gave it to Maurice, who returned it safely to the pub.

Charles rose fearlessly to the cake challenge with extra marsh mellow on his coffee. No further complaints were heard from the staff when Jeremy changed into a new shirt.

Unfortunately this was not the only coffee stop problem this week. Poppy’s Barn has decided to charge an extra 15% on groups of 6 or more. Since cakes don’t cost more for a large group, I suppose this is really a ‘we don’t want you here’ signal. Of course we cycle all year round and they may change their minds when the ramblers/wanders pack it in for winter, but until then we have re-routed our future rides to Compass Courtyard. Apparently the irascible proprietor of Poppy’s has had some dispute with a member of another, less polite, cycling club so its

“Knock knock” “Why are all cyclists the same” “I don’t know, why are all cyclists the same” “They all have bikes and they are in the way”

Anyway back to the joys of riding Essex’s best lanes on a nice day.

These were perfect lanes for a Windmill Ride. You could power ahead like Howard, while Kieth and Andrew chat two abreast. Or take-up the entire road for yourself, like Andrew here. Gareth and myself powered through the last 4 miles at a really good pace, which I enjoyed despite an all too close encounter with an oncoming heating-oil truck.

As usual the food at the end of the ride was excellent. This time Tom seemed to hit the jackpot.

Not bad for ‘pub grub’ I think. Then of course there is the beer. And with a beer in front of him Graham always looks like he’s won the jackpot.

I can’t say I blame him. After 30 miles or more the first one always goes down rather well I find.

Anyway great ride, excellent pub, well organised and lead by Maurice.

What else would you expect?

The last home test match of the season has been lost (although county cricket plods on), the football season is in full flow and Autumn cycling apparel has been cleared of moths and is on full display. A cool start, but with the promise of better temperatures later in the day, saw 18 Windmillers once again congregating at the Black Bull, Balsham, for coffee and a 9.30 start.

Without the ailing Alan to sort us into orderly groups, the usual herding chickens scenario prevailed as three roughly equal groups headed off towards West Wratting (really, 18 divided by 3 should be a cinch, shouldn’t it ?).

The pacesetters in group 3 clearly hadn’t got the ‘leisure ride’ memo and duly did their best Team Sky Train impersonation, meaning that group 3 quickly caught up the more leisurely group 2 andhad to wait – an excuse for a photo stop at the dead centre of Brinkley (AKA The Woodland Cemetry).

Further on and Group 3 still hadn’t got their pacing right and had caught up with group 2 once again. This time, Andrew sensibly waved group 3 past so they could carry on enjoying their ride.

Beautiful quiet lanes led us to the regular haunt of the “classic roadside cafe”, Cafe 33, at Stradishall – popular with Tradespeople, motorcyclists and Windmillers (Is there a national numbering schemes for cafes of which I’m unaware ?). At least beautiful quiet lanes should have led us to Cafe 33. Group 1 under the leadership of Maurice, who really should have known better as this is his route, ended up on the A143 and last place at the cafe. Red face for the leader !

Cafe 33 is just up the road from the Category C Prisons of Highpoint North and Highpoint South and, I’m sure would have been popular with the following inmates during their lunch breaks:

MYRA HINDLEY: The Moors murderer was jailed for life without parole in 1966 after her and Ian Brady killed five children, with some being sexually abused. In 1998, Hindley was sent to Highpoint’s North section, which at that time was the women’s prison on the site.

LINDA CALVEY: Dubbed as the ‘Black Widow’ at the time because all of her lovers had ending up either dead or in prison, Calvey was jailed for life in 1991 after the murder of her lover Ronnie Cook – a crime which she still denies. The now best-selling crime novelist spent around 17 years in prisons, including Highpoint, before being paroled in 2008.

GEORGE MICHAEL: The former Wham! star arrived at Highpoint Prison in September 2010 after being jailed for eight weeks for crashing his Range Rover into a Snappy Snaps photo store while under the influence of cannabis.

BOY GEORGE: In January 2009, the former Culture Club front man and I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! contestant was jailed for 15 months for imprisoning a male escort, 29-year-old Norwegian model Audun Carlsen, by handcuffing him to a wall and beating him with a metal chain.

LESTER PIGGOTT: Regarded as one of the finest jockeys to ever ride in Britain, Lester Piggott was sentenced to three years imprisonment in 1987 at Ipswich Crown Court. He was found guilty of failing to declare £3.25m, which evaded around £1.7m in taxes, and sent to Highpoint. After serving 12 months and being released, Piggott went on to ride winners in the Breeders’ Cup Mile in America and the 2,000 Guineas in 1992.

Cultural break over, and it was back on the bikes for the short stretch back to Balsham into a noticeable headwind, with Maurice once more in the Vanguard.

In keeping with the rest of the day, the pace ramped once again on the final drag up to the Balsham mountain top finish with a sprint for the bar ensuing, and calls for oxygen at the finish.

Once again, the Black Bull did us proud with excellent food and particularly good Woodfordes Wherry Ale (I think the Ales prefer the cooler temperatures and respond accordingly). Thanks to Maurice for planning and organising.

Victor, Tom, Paul, Roger, Rod, Ric, Nigel, Neil, Keith, Ken, Jeremy, Howard, Graham, Deborah, Charles, Brian, Andrew, Maurice

For a while Keith had been telling us that there was this great pub in Clare, The Cock. And what a load of old cock that turned out to be. They never replied to his phone calls or emails, so one Thursday he went round to knock at the door. Sure enough, it was closed. He judged (correctly) that a key requirement for a pub acting as base for a ride is that it should be open at 1 o’clock, and also preferably at 9 o’clock. He suspected that failure in this regard was likely to come up at the ‘Christmas Do’ so more investigation was required.

He decided to go down the road to The Swan although it didn’t look like it had any parking, only to find that they did, in a field round the back. So this became the base for our Suffolk ride.

With glorious late summer weather and the prospect of a ride through quiet lanes, the turnout was large, 18 in all. When I was at school we were instructed in a skill called division, so I naively thought that the 3 groups would contain 6 people each. Still after the first 8 had left I gave up on any notion of academic rigour as applied to Windmill club. The music in the garden also reminded me of very old times but there you have it.

I set off in the last 5. The going seemed hard. There was an annoying squeak from the bike. Perhaps the mudguard had got knocked while driving over? Still mudguards are a kindness to fellow riders when riding in a group, so you have to put up with them.

I got off. The side of tire was was sticky and hot. Odd but the wheel looked buckled. Had a fiddle, but everyone was keen to get on since we were only 10 minutes into the ride.

Quite a few hills at the start of this ride and by Belchamp and I was knackered. The locals seem a bit obsessed with this place. At one point all roads seem to lead to Belchamp. Perhaps they don’t want any visitors to miss out on its attractions or maybe it is 2nd World War sign intended to confuse the invading Germans.

By the coffee stop at Willow Tree Cafe near Glemsford it was clear to me that either my bike was on its last legs or I was, or possibly both.

Time to get help from one or more of our resident engineers. Anything can be fixed, especially when fueled by coffee and cake.

This is not something you want to see 15 miles from the pub, with your brakes rubbing, tire wall blistered and legs getting a bit wobbly. Still back forks are flared and by moving the wheel back as far as it would go and loosening the back brake it was possible to position the wheel so the bike was ride-able, just.

The cafe is quite posh and the service was very good, which was just as well since we spent most of the time bike-fixing. Our groups deficiencies in arrhythmic were partly addressed by us acquiring Deborah and Neil from another group. I will pass over the mere fact that we were now 7 out of 18. Its just a detail.

It was good to be joined by Neil whose bike is not deficient in any way. In fact its a very nice bike I thought. I wish I had one.

Here I can be seen, head down, encouraged by Rod while Neil enjoys his ride.

Despite my difficulties I can honestly say that this was a very nice ride through delightful, quiet Suffolk lanes. Grass growing down the middle, that sort of lane, where you can talk to fellow riders or just enjoy the sunshine and the piece and quiet.

Absolutely perfect.

Return to the pub made possible several long, cold drinks in the warm sunshine. The food had been pre-ordered and came out quickly through the effort of several busy servers.

Everyone seemed happy to have been part of another excellent Windmill occasion. It had been an adventure. New pub, new cafe, nice route, bike nursed home with some help from other club members and beer duly drunk. All that remained was to go home and nurse my very tired legs in a hot bath. Taking a leaf our of Andrew’s book I opted for a hot bath and 40 winks before my wife returned from work. Whereupon I tell her how busy I have been, gardening, jobs around the the house, that sort of thing. She expresses indulgence rather than any great belief.

For the record riders were: Keith, Jeremy, Paul, Deborah, Jenny, Roger, Sandra, Neil, Maurice, Rod, Charles, Martin B, Howard, Nigel, Andrew, Geoffrey and myself.

Doctor’s note and lunch only for Brian who is shouldering along, back to full fitness and of course our very best wishes to ‘The Reverend’ who is making sterling progress and whom I hope will soon be back as a lunching member.

Thursday’s ride invitation looked to be clear enough as to the lunch venue: The Black BULL at Balsham, as used last July. For some reason, this caused some confusion amongst some Windmillers, with “Bulls” being confused with Horses (Black) and then onto any other flavour of animal (also Black). Luckily thirteen Windmillers were sufficiently on the ball (or bull ?) to get to the correct start of our ride – a reverse of a route we did last July.

Its always nice when you can sit outside the pub in the morning sipping coffees and catching up on any gossip. A lovely sunny start for Simon’s ride. As is normal for Windmill rides, it proved far more difficult than it should to organise into two roughly equal groups, but eventually we managed to drag ourselves away from the coffee and the sunny terrace and onto the road.

You know you are in for a tough finish to the ride when you set off down hill and down wind – but that was a problem for later as we rolled out to West Wickham and Withersfield. From here, it was past the former Karro pork ‘processing’ plant, now owned by the Canadian Sofina Foods group. The crossing of the busy A143 between Great Wratting and Kedington can be a bit fraught, but this time we all got across safely with no near miss incidents to report.

The narrow road past the start of Cock Hill and onto Boyton End is always a delight, but a rude awakening on the short section of main road leading us onto Tarkas cafe. Once again a pleasure to be able to take tea and coffee and cake on the patio outside the café and to admire the vintage fuel pump at the front.

Back on the road, it became apparent that a) it had gotten a lot warmer through the morning and b) we were now heading into an ever stiffening breeze. Consequently the drag up to Birdbrook and the subsequent undulating countryside were starting to feel like hard work. By the time we arrived at the Camps, group one opted for a well earned breather whilst, social to a fault, group 2 sailed past and onto the A1307 crossing at Wethersfield. Last July’s political tirade banners were nowhere in evidence.

From here, its a short ride to Balsham, but not before the sting in the tail ‘bastardo’ hill right at the end.

The juice man from Del Monte (AKA Brian resplendent in his straw hat) was waiting for us at the BLACK BULL pub. Well earned beers were quaffed outside in the sunshine, before heading inside for lunch. A cracking day all round, thanks Simon for organising.

Roger, Andrew, Graham, Alan, Howard, Keith, Jeremy, Simon, Sandra, Deborah, Maurice, Rod, Martin W, Brian for Lunch

A relatively incident free ride from Cafe 19, Duxford to the Stove Cafe, Bourne with the chance of photo bombing a TV production.

Two groups set off from Duxford on a warm breezy morning. The hitherto bike trap of a gravelled drive up to Cafe 19 has been replaced by possibly the best strip of tarmac in Cambridgeshire. Pristine and silky smooth. Group 2 opted to try this route from the café rather than the advertised footpath and very pleasant it was too, for all of 50m, before it gave way to the pot holed public road.

Having negotiated the A505 we continued through Whittlesford and Shelford to join the Trumpington Wildlife reserve cycle path.

Grantchester. Home of the much critically acclaimed, loved and respected author, Jeffrey Archer and setting for the TV drama of ‘Grantchester’. Grantchester (the TV series) has been running for 10 years and 8 series (and counting) and follows the the detective adventures of the local vicar in the 1950s (not to be confused by the Windmiller’s very own reverend). As luck would have it, an episode was being filmed as our motley peloton emerged onto the streets of Grantchester (the village), fake wisteria adding to the gentle countrified ambience.

Celebrity spotting over, it was out via bridle paths to Barton, Comberton and Toft (St Andrews church looking resplendent) and finally to the Stove Pipe café in Bourne for much needed refreshment.

With the breeze strengthening and the possibility of showers later, it was heads down past the Eversdens, Harlton, Haslingfield and Harston thenfinally back through Newton and Whittlesford.

Charles lost a rear light cover and the lady taking our lunch orders inadvertently wrote “crap cakes” for my order (in case you were wondering about the blog title. the crab cakes definitely were not crap).

Geoff for lunch. Graham, Paul, Martin B, Alan, Charles, Ric, Andrew, Howard, Jeremy, Chris, Rod, Roger

A good turn out of cyclists congregated at Andrew’s house in Wendens Ambo to meet puppy Dillon and to set out on a ride to celebrate the re-opening of the Refurbished Bell Inn.

First mention of the Bell appears in documents in 1576, when it was sold as a 40 acre farm called “Beauchamps” (with stables, barns, meadowlands, pastures and a malt house). The six pilasters on each face of the chimney stack built at this time is considered a fine example of Elizabethan workmanship. In 1806 it appears as a public house when it was sold to Elizabeth Hawks of the Bishops Stortford Brewery Company who in turn sold it to Benskins Brewery of Watford in 1898. It was finally sold as a free house in 1992.

Back in the present, three groups headed out via the metropolis of Saffron Walden towards the first climb of the day, the long but gentle slope up to Hadstock Common.

Hadstock Common is a relatively exposed area and home to the former RAF Little Walden, otherwise known as Station 165 of the USAAF. Some buildings remain visible to riders crossing Hadstock Common.

When construction of Station 165 began in 1942, it was allocated to the Eighth Air Force as a Class A bomber airfield. Little Walden’s main runway was slightly shorter than those of its counterparts, 1,900 yards as opposed to 2,000 yards, but the two auxiliary runways were both the standard 1,400 yards in length (I will acquiesce to using imperial measurements for history, but never for rides !). On March 6th, 1944 the airfield officially opened, the day before the 409th bomber group arrived. Little Walden transferred back to RAF ownership in early 1946. For the next twelve years it was used to store surplus military equipment. After that, the site was returned to agriculture, the majority of the buildings pulled down and the runways dug up for road building hardcore.

Once again, back to the present: A fast descent took us through Hadstock and across to Linton and Abington. At Abington, it is necessary to cross the very busy A11 using a steep, stepped footbridge which is regularly put into Windmill rides in order to slow up those with e bikes.

A bridal path leads to Babraham where a course error led to a number of Windmillers straying onto a footpath, before coming to a halt at an uncompromising looking gate. Our course error was confirmed be a friendly dog walker, no doubt bemused by the number of stranded cyclists on ber path.

A hasty U turn took us further up the road to the start of the designated and eminently cyclable bridal path which led to Stapleford Granary for coffee.

Always friendly but never quick, the coffee and cake service was even slower than usual due to parents availing themselves of school holidays and sunny weather.

From Stapleford, the route diverted through Sawston, Whittlesford, Duxford and Hinxton to Ickleton (Sawston and Hinxton being bypassed by group 3 to avoid any danger of being late for lunch). From here, the Ickleton Alps beckon – started by another long but gradual pull up Coploe Road to the best viewpoint of the ride.

Undulating scenic lanes finally led to the Wendens Ambo road, with a fast descent of the hill known to Windmillers as “El Bastardo” (when tackled the other way). A short sprint led us back to the sunny beer garden of the Bell where we met up with Maurice, Lindsey and Dillon.

Jenni, Andrew, Brian, Jeremy, Ric, Graham, Nigel, Neil, Keith, Alan, Simon. Howard, Rod, Charles, Geoff (Maurice, Lindsey, Dillon for lunch)

General Election day. Horseheath is in the South Cambridgeshire constituency and therefore returned Lib Dem, Pippa Heylings, as MP. The specific significance of this for this ride will become apparent.

The village of Balsham extends mainly along one road and has the church at the highest point. Roman roads form the west and south boundaries, Fleam Dyke is to the east, and one of the Icknield Way tracks is the northern boundary. In the Domesday Book, Balsham is called Balesham: the village of Baelli. Of far greater significance to the less cultured amongst us is that Balsham supports two pubs. On our last visit here we started from the Bell, but this time the ride returned to a start at the Black Bull.

Welcome to Clive, who joined 16 other riders for coffee and to place their food order before heading off in 3 groups toward West Wickam, noting as we went that we would have to retrace our steps back up that hill and into the wind into Balsham at the end of the ride.

The vast majority of people on the road are very courteous to us cyclists, often calling us across when we look stuck at junctions and acknowledging friendly waves. As a group, we like to think we are courteous and law abiding in return. There is, however a tiny minority of people in vehicles who are deliberately antagonistic and dangerous – as discovered by our second group on the road as they were close pass targeted by someone in a black Audi (other antagonistic driver marques are available). Luckily no injuries but this sort of thing can take the gloss off anyone’s day.

From West Wickham we headed towards the crossing point of the busy Haverhill road at Horseheath. Here we encountered the handiwork of one of the more politically engaged citizens. Three or four immaculately prepared banners across vehicles and gateways proclaimed their views in no uncertain terms. Massive dedication to their cause.

After pausing to read the somewhat wordy banners, we pressed on South to Cornish Hall End before turning back North towards a welcome coffee and cake stop at Tarkas cafe. Although the breeze was a bit chlly, in the shelter to the cafe garden it was very pleasant.

The return via Boyton End is via very narrow lanes. Our next vehicle encounter can only be put down as a countryside thing, as a full lane width hedgetrimming tractor approached group 3, with no room to do anything other than press on. Luckily a small patch of grass gave us just enough room to allow the monster to pass by.

Back at the Black Bull we were treated to an excellent meal and beer. I can personally vouch for the seafood linguine ! Many thanks to Maurice for arranging. The impressive roll call of 17:

Maurice, Brian, Victor, Graham, Martin B, Tom, Simon, Ken, Paul, Gareth, Howard, Keith, Alan, Ric, Martin W, Jeremy and, of course, our newest member Clive.

So far, it’s not been a great summer weather-wise, but all that was forgotten as it turned out at its best for the annual London ride. With six members still in France, a small but select band; Kieth, Paul, Roger, Brian, Deborah, Gareth, Simon and Maurice prepared for the trip by assembling at the National Water-sports Center and heading off down the Lee Valley led by Maurice.

This route follows the canals to the center of London with hardly a moment on the roads. This seems like a miracle.

Being a warm day we were ready for a drink when we arrived at the base of the IFS Cloud Cable Car. Kieth ordered his can of drink, which he put down only for it to be swept up by a hyper-efficient street cleaner, who emptied it, retaining the can for recycling.

The trip in the cable car, views as great as ever, soon deposited us on the South Bank of the Thames

New was Damien Hirst’s ‘Demon with a bowl’ statue. At 18 meters tall this is an impressive piece of public art and a fine addition to London’s many sights.

Lunch was, as usual, at the Trafalgar Inn. With good beer, food and most importantly really rapid service, which makes it a great stop.

By this point everyone was enjoying their ride. The pub is something of a celebration of England’s past and of Nelson in particular.

During his career Nelson fought; the Americans, Italians, Indians, Russians, Prussians, Swedish, Dutch, Spanish and most famously the French. He seems to have lacked the instinct for self-preservation, which is so well developed in most of us. Early in his career he was reprimanded for chasing a polar bear, putting crew members at risk. He lost his right eye during the battle of Corsica and his right arm in the battle of Tenerife. I particularly enjoyed the description of his efforts during the battle of Egypt,

“a piece of French shot struck him in the forehead. He fell to the deck, with a flap of torn skin obscuring his good eye. Blinded and half-stunned, he felt sure he would die and cried out, “I am killed. Remember me to my wife.” He was taken below to be seen by the surgeon. After examining Nelson, the surgeon pronounced the wound non-threatening and applied a temporary bandage.”

It wasn’t healthy even to be stood near Nelson. So, during the battle of Trafalgar,

“Victory came under fire. A cannonball struck and killed Nelson’s secretary, John Scott, nearly cutting him in two. Hardy’s clerk then took over, but he too, was almost immediately killed. Victory’s wheel was shot away; another cannonball cut down eight marines. Standing next to Nelson on the quarterdeck, Hardy’s shoe buckle was suddenly dented by a splinter”

Well, you know, the more risks you take, the more likely you are to cop it in the end, and moreover it can all be ruinous for your favourite footwear.

Still all this has sea-faring stuff has left us with some fine buildings including the Admiralty, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, where officers of the Royal Navy received their training. These days they do it near the sea, at Portsmouth, not as grand but I suppose makes more sense.

The club has certain hallowed traditions. One of these is Brian lying down to take groups photos at the Cutty Sark. This was duly done.

Unfortunately a mile before Tower Bridge disaster struck and Roger found that one side of his crank had bent! I’ve never seen this before and it reminded me of a ride a few years ago when a member’s pedal sheared off.

There are some things that happen that are just not roadside fixes, though we can handle most things. Roger was forced to drop out and make it back to the water-sports center by train; address Station Rd, Waltham Cross. Clue how to get back is in the name, which Roger did very successfully.

After the hustle and bustle of Tower Bridge it is always a relief to drop down to Limehouse Basin and dream of owning a boat docked in this very desirable bit of town. We found one on sale for £200K at 70ft with two double beds and a residential mooring. Seems like a good buy, but only Maurice can get away with buying accommodation in picturesque locations when out for a wander, so we cycled on.

I think this photo sums it all up. Great weather, great trip, led and navigated by Maurice in grand style. One of our longer rides but with much to see and do. A vintage trip.

Thanks to Maurice from the lot of us.

Northamptonshire – the self acclaimed ‘Rose of the Shires’ , new Windmill ride territory, and a belated Birthday drinks ride for Graham.

Starting from the Wheatsheaf, Titchmarsh with coffee and tales of crossing the A14 traffic, the route headed into the quiet lanes of Eastern Northamptonshire.

A small section of bridleway was the scene of an involuntary dismount for Neil (no bikes or humans damaged in the process)

Villages of ironstone cottages passed before a section of gated lane led us into Oundle.

Oundle, home of Oundle school (with whom Keith remembers playing rugby), Nene Valley brewery and Beans coffee stop.

From there, a relatively fast ride back to Titchmarsh and the aforementioned birthday beers.

Graham, Roger, Alan, Keith, Neil, Paul, Charles, Simon, Martin B, Jeremy, Victor.