The Windmill Cycle Club

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.

80 years ago on this day 133,000 troops set out to liberate Europe. We rode past this postbox which reminded us of that fact. Again, we have war in Europe and the rise of the extreme political parties. Perhaps lessons have been learned and our leaders will address the root causes. ‘Lest we forget’ we are reminded that making 80 years of peace can be costly.

This week Martin took us to the seaside. I think he misses it, coming from the South Coast, likewise seeing France. Still after a busy motorway drive we were deposited in the sleepy lanes of Fuller Street at The Square and Compasses pub, under beautiful cloudless skies ready for a trip to the seaside (or mudflats).

Despite holiday commitments it was still a good turnout and we set-off (clockwise) in two groups to the Haybridge Basin on the Blackwater estuary.

Coffee was at the Tiptree Tea Rooms at the water’s edge and was as pleasant as ever. The weather was still nice as Group 1 arrived but it deteriorated upon the arrival of group 2. We tried not to hold it against them and focused instead on keeping the birds at bay while we ate our cake.

This time the tide was in so we were presented with water rather than the usual mud-flats, which on the 2nd of June, were the location for the 50th annual Maldon Mud Race.

Keep running like that and you will finish up in the Netherlands, or even Belgium. Then you’ll be sorry.

From the cafe you can look out to Osea Island. This is the endpoint of the Chelmer to Blackwater canal which was completed in 1796 and allowed goods to be brought in by sea to Chelmsford. Commercial traffic only ended in 1972. I thought the motorways looked a bit new round this bit of the country.

After coffee we dropped in at Maldon Church. This has a new window commemorating the Battle of Maldon, 991. Ethelred the Unready verses the Vikings. Unfortunately 1-0 to the Vikings, which Roy Hodgson and Gareth Southgate will be able to relate to. True to form the defeat was celebrated in a poem making this one of the oldest poems that we know of about English battles. But its not in English so it doesn’t really count. As you will know the oldest proper poetry is Chaucer (1532). Sit up at the back! Which is in English (just) as you will remember from the scars you received studying it at school.

This church visit was made more atmospheric since somebody was playing the new German organ on the recently built mezzanine floor inside.

Alan and Martin opted for a discrete photo in the churchyard outside rather than interrupt the music. Thames barges which are characteristic of this area can be seen behind them.

Next stop was the Maldon Moot Hall which is grade 1 listed. Martin was tempted to trying his Hercules pose.

But his heart wasn’t in it and the hall remains intact. Maldon was also the location of the first Tesco store in the country to be designated as a “supermarket” in 1958. No I didn’t make that up.

Actually the town has a surprising number of historic sites that we didn’t have time to visit. Being a port it has a lot of history I suppose.

On the way back we went round the famous Terling Ford

One to miss if you are driving around this area. Its 2 ft deep even in summer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBD34Wt7ICo. What surprised me is that it is also pretty long and with very little signage on the road.

Back at the Square and Compasses the beer was ready for drinking. The food is good at this pub too.

Warm sunshine had returned and with it the warm glow of another good ride completed by; Iain, Brian, Roger, myself, Martin B, Alan, Paul, Neil, Howard and recorded by the able photographer The Reverend Holy Moly Martin, organizer.

Sorry the rest of you that missed it.

The promise of Jeremy’s flat route meant that Charles had abandoned his trusty e bike in favour of his trusty push bike, possibly forgetting that having ridden to the start, he’d have to pedal back up the hill to Chrishall.

For the Summer end of May, it was flippin’ cold as 15 of us gathered at Cafe 19, Duxford for today’s ride. Given the amount of traffic likely to be encountered, three groups of five riders was the order of the day. A variety of routes out of Duxford took us over a very busy A505 onto quieter roads through Shelford and out to Hauxton.

Here we joined the Hauxton – Trumpington cycle way through the nature reserve (prolific dandelions replacing last years prolific cowslips) and into the delightful Trumpington Meadows Country Park with its many carved wood animals. Familiar trails took us out to Granchester meadows and hence into turmoil that is central Cambridge.

North of the river, we eventually made it to the Milton Country Park cafe for a brief warm up and welcome coffee and cakes.

Back across the river, near the station, we encountered some art. I suspect opinions on Ariadne Wrapped will be mixed ! https://www.cb1cambridge.co.uk/art/ariadne-wrapped

The guided busway and the genome cycle path provided a traffic free route out of the city and it wasn’t long before we were back at cafe 19 for lunch. Many thanks to Charles for buying the drinks (for the record, his birthday was 3 months ago !) and Jeremy for organising. A flat ride as advertised. Riders were Jenni, Deborah, Ken, Graham, Paul, Alan, Keith, Charles, Alan, Geoff, Howard, Martin, Brian, Andrew, and a special mention for new boy: Neil.

It was real pleasure to return to the Golden Fleece at Braughing, home to many a pleasant Windmill Club occasion, including Christmas meals. The last few weeks might in fact have been Christmas, judged by the weather. However, this was the first ride of May and at least it had turned a bit warmer. Still cloudy though.

I’m always amazed that Jess remembers me, my gluten free needs, and that, this being Braughing, that I always order sausages. How does anyone do that when we only go a few times a year?

Better weather and the prospect of quite a good cake had resulted in an excellent turnout; Maurice, Brian, Martin, MartinB, Roger, Kieth, Paul, Victor and Andrew, Charles, Ken, Howard, myself, Rick and Deborah or something like that. The groups got mixed up several times for various mechanical and biological reasons.

In Greek legend Jason needs to find the Golden Fleece. He was accompanied by heroes in a ship called The Argo, hence The Argonauts. We intended to cycle to The Brewery Tea Rooms in Walkern, then to re-find The Golden Fleece. Well, I supposed, someone with a Garmin and a sense of direction might be able to. I’ve just come along for the ride.

Those up for a little further education might want to re-read the legend of the Argonauts. https://theargonauts.com/the-story-of-jason-and-the-argonauts/. I didn’t realize that some words from this source have entered directly into our language like Harpies; an unpleasant sort of woman, who were cruel to Jason. Also see Sirens, alluring voices, but likewise bad news. Bit of a misogynous theme developing here. More of that later.

The ride out to Walkern was excellent. We went via High Cross where is buried Captain Arthur Martin-Leake, one of only three people who have ever been awarded two Victoria Crosses. The first was in the Boer War and the second in the First World War. I suppose he must have been quite brave then.

Less resilience was required of us as we proceeded towards a beautifully cooked, home-made cake at the Brewery Tea Rooms. Safely ensconced in the tent outside, with the joyful sound of children playing in the local school yard, continuing living seemed preferable to any attempt at winning medals.

Still, everyone must suffer some time and this time it was Kieth who had a puncture. Two weeks ago it was me, and last week it was, oh no not him again. However that one was before the ride, so it doesn’t really count. Still a new tire, on the bike, should fix all that. Scwalbe Marathons no doubt, this should avoid the possibility of an end of year award. Hopefully.

The Argonauts did return to the Golden Fleece where they enjoyed excellent beer, food and a good get together. We were more fortunate than Jason who ends up underneath the aging Argo after his wife has killed all his children. I’ve already explained that he didn’t have much luck with women. Finally, he is struck dead by a rotting timber falling off the boat.  They don’t call them Greek Tragedies for nothing you know.

Thanks to Maurice ably assisted by Andrew for another vintage Windmill Club ride.