FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast in aid of Martlets Hospice 3rd September 2010

[User10571]

Your photos are exquisite, Arthur. Thank you.

I'll second that.

Top pics, Arthur!

 

[Arthur]

Thank you. It was a pleasure and the pictures virtually took themselves, all I had to do was point and press. I'd have taken more, earlier, but some fool organised the majority of the ride to take place in the dark!

 

[Tigerbiten]

Fantastic ride.

Getting out of London was slow but after Micham common the pace picked up nicly.
I remembered some of the route from the Genteel ride but some of the un-marshaled junctions caused a bit of head scratching.

Reigate hill was taken slowly, sub 30mph.
I got stuck behind an artic and could not go fast ..........

The fog made it a bit more interesting on the low recumbent.
Plus with my lights are at my eye level, so with the odd thicker patch and a road with no white lines, I was looking into a wall of white mist and I couldn't see where I was going.

I had a slight prang when someone slowed down/stopped with no warning at the top of Turners hill, but no real damage done once I'd straightened the fairing.
I love that the run down the road from Turners hill to Lindfeild and beyond.
I was spinning out at +33mph at some points.

I got the bottom of Dichling just as it was getting light.
So watched some of the dawn from the top of the beacon, untill I got to cold.

Bombed it down into Brighton, just touched 40 mph, for breakfast aound 6:30.

Thanks again for another fantastic ride Simon & crew.

See you all on the next one with a bit of luck .........

 

[Tim Hall]

Different, very different from a normal FNRTTC.

Met Marna at Three Bridges, only 10 minutes late, and wended our way upto Horley, thinking we'd have plenty of time. Arrived at our post more or less smack on the appointed hour and whizz, the advanced party (Adrian Thom, Adam and others,) overshoot the turn. Apparently the front of the ride is already at Reigate. We make a splendid glow stick arrow to show the way, attracting the attention of Surrey's finest ("Have the police been informed?" "Yes" "No one tells us anything. We're only Traffic") and set off down Haroldslea Drive distributing dinky solar powered LED lanterns.

The lanterns are in two parts, the business end in my pannier, the sharp, pointy bit in Marna's. Marna has an email address that references the marvellous Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

So there I am, down a dark lane, mist swirling, asking a possible Slayer for "a stake please". And then Zoltan, Hound of Dracula escaped from his lair. Eee, we know how to enjoy ourselves.

And all the while riders are coming past us. We fix some glow sticks to the BOLLARDS and return to the top of the road. Which is mobbed with riders. We point them on their way, then point those that overshot on their way, and put the kettle on.

A young man alights from a taxi, drink having taken, and is a bit puzzled. He tells us he can supply hot drinks, and is meant to be riding with his Dad at nine and wobbles off.

I recognise a few as they go by, hear a shout of "Tim" but generally there's lots of people I've not seen before. And many of them women. This is A Good Thing, and possibly the subject of a learned paper. Then it's time to go as our Glorious Leader rings up. I delay things by offering cake to all and sundry and We're On Or Way, collecting the lanterns as we go. Arriving at the far end we have the confusion over the missing Alberta, as described by Flying Dodo up the page. In a game of "Hide The Lady" to shame any Oxford Street card sharp we chase each other round that part of Horley known as The Badlands, until finally all are reunited.

We put the hammer down and slip over to Copthorne Prep School to scoff sandwiches, and, more importantly, retrieve the rock cakes which Marna had stashed in the van. It seems I have to barter for them, swapping lots of bright shiny LED lanterns for some magic beans a blue cold bag fully of Cakey Goodness. And then off again, winding in stragglers and Teef, who had been engaged on some sort of Antipodean Rescue Operation. Simon went past me, suggesting I drop one or both of my overstuffed panniers in the sag wagon. But how else am I going to descend liker a homesick rock on the drop down to Lindfield? Which I did, to be caught by Teef. We chatted our way down, then he stopped, ever the gentleman, to offer words of encouragement to a tiring rider.

Suddenly we're in Ditchling, where Andy and Thom are freezing their bits off, having been there since the dawn of time. People are pointed towards the loo, others are pointed at The Hill and off we go. Somewhat disappointed to find a lack of Hatler and really really big thermos. Plod up the hill, offering words of encouragement. "Do you need any help?" we ask a bloke sitting by the roadside. "I've got my help here" he says, pointing at a jumbo sized bag of Haribo. And then the top, where more Cakey Goodness is dished out and photos are taken until it's decided breakfast is calling. A grupetto encompassing some slower riders proceeds at a stately pace, to the annoyance of the odd Beemer driver. Relax, it's a lovely day.

Passing Mangaman Corner and on the swoop towards the golf course we come across the support vehicles stopped with a bike being loaded into the back. A young woman has crashed, hitting the tarmac harder than is good. Fortunately a nurse is on hand and she is ferried to hospital as a precaution. I hope she's OK. Then it's speed camera time, followed by breakfast and conversation. Adrian arrives bearing half a bottle of whisky, so we toast the health of TimO's cat. And then it's time for me to go, for I have a piano to move, so I wend my way to the station and snooze my home.

Great fun. Pics here

 

[mangaman]

Passing Mangaman Corner and on the swoop towards the golf course we come across the support vehicles stopped with a bike being loaded into the back. A young woman has crashed, hitting the tarmac harder than is good. .

Great fun. Pics here

Hi Tim - Glad to see my corner get a mention.

Just after I met Simon/ Claudine / Adrian / you et al I heard from Roger - the marshall at Ditcling Rd turn off that a car driver had just driven up and said someone had taken a tumble.

I had my car by the golf course and drove down to see if I could help - but everyone had gone.

Weirdly - just before you lot arrived a police car screeched up from the Asda roundabout and stopped in front of me - which made me a bit nervous - only to ask if if I had seen Husky dogs loose in the area - which they had received reports of?

Luckily I hadn't. That wouldn't have been pretty in the jumble of cars and bikes.

There must have been some cracking riding BTW

I planned to arrive at the Col de An - ask rich-P - (Mangaman corner as I prefer to call it) at 4.50ish.

I had spoken to my fellow marshalls - Roger and Pat Willey (stop sniggering at the back) - he is a smashing chap - and we had agreed to meet at 4.50

I started getting texts from 2.30 saying people were approaching though.

Dell's clever "bush-telegraph" texting system worked a treat - as I panicked and got there at 4am

The 1st crew were there at 4.08, and they went down Coldean Road _ I think they were on a longer ride of their own.

The 1st going to to the cafe were at 4.20 - so I was able to ring the cafe people who were great - and very grateful for the early tip-off.

I really enjoyed it - and it was nice to put some faces to a few usernames. Next time I'll be trying to ride it fror sure

 

[MacB]

Cheers Simon, cracking night and cracking company, first ride of any note for me since IoW in May and it all seemed to go rather smoothly....points of note:-

Sloane Square - met Bollo and robbie at Waterloo and we made it so SS no probs thanks to Pauls GPS. It's a bit of a buzz seeing all those cyclists gathered together, chatted to some non-cyclists there, and going through London, as well. Some really positive responses to what was going on and gave out several references to websites to the seemingly interested...well they were attractive young ladies!

Getting Going - police escort, bright lights, the odd novice that didn't really get the idea of group riding - pulling wheelies in the middle of the bunch behind the police van!!! but a lot of excitement and happy faces

Marshalling - tried to do my bit, covered off about 5 junctions in the end and stopped to chat to various buddies at others. Starting with hugs and kisses from TC and The Babe at the top of Reigate Hill then having to slap down RichP as he tried to offer the same down at the bottom tried to chat with and pace the odd person that was tiring, or alone, on the run to the pit stop. So met Dan, one of a group down from Milton Keynes and Sandy with whom my conversation was curtailed by my having to stop off and do another junction. That was about it, after the break it was just the odd chat, word of encouragement or offer of help. The help was never needed but, despite some clearly suffering derriers, spirits seemed high.

The Ride - started slow, flew for a while after Mitcham then slowed down again to the the half way stop. After that it was non stop to the bottom of Ditchling Beacon with Mick(Mistral) and Mike Morley. Short break to allow me to snaffle Micks supply of Haribo then up Ditchling. Made it and, to my immense satisfaction, Arthur has captured the moment of my crushing victory over Olaf at the top. The run into Brighton saw some heavy brake useage as I managed to hit every red light coming down.

The People - saving the most important for last, great to see folks again it's been ages and to add a few new ones. TigerBitten, McWobble, Slowmotion, Marna and Greg(I know not new, but closest we've come to a proper chat so far). Didn't have all the usual suspects there but, as long as Teef is present, it's going to be a good night. One bum note, a few of the regulars obviously spiked my fruitjuice as I seemed to be led astray on Saturday. My planned healthy breakfast followed by a brisk ride home was converted to a disgusting display of self indulgence. Sitting in the sunshine, drinking beer and getting face ache from laughing so much, what a shocking way to end the ride. I could recount the tales of fun but I think you've got to try it for yourself. Book the day off and bring beer tokens, you never know, it could catch on.

Final Note - I've now lost count of the times my good buddy Mistral has supported me along on a ride, great company as usual but about time I got back to full fitness and was able to return the favour.

thanks all

 

[dellzeqq]

Odd. Susie and I arrived in Sloane Square a little before ten o’clock, and see thirty or so cyclists already there – two hours before the off. There’s a trestle table, signing in sheets, volunteers, and a bit of panic. Some paperwork has got lost. The minibus has caught fire.

I do a my ‘it’s fine, don’t worry’ thing with the Martlets crew, re-arrange the signing in sheets so that the riders can find their own name, rather than rely on the volunteers, Luke arrives exuding professional calm, the ship steadies, more riders arrive, I start touring the square chivvying the riders to sign in ‘did I ask you to sign in before?’ ‘five minutes ago’ ‘great, I’ll be back in five minutes time’, and warning them about the safety talk ‘it’ll be embarrassing for you, but a lot more embarrassing for me....’

Robert tells me that the vans are at Victoria, so I zoom off to the NCP car park, round up sixty Brightonians, give them an ‘inspiring’ wakey-wakey address (as in – please be more afraid of me than the traffic) and we ride back to Sloane Square. The roadcraft, or lack of it, is astounding. For the first time in five months I have something concrete to worry about.

The Team Adrian Marshalpeeps organise themselves and set off. The Team User10571 Marshalpeeps make plans. That sounds simple but, dear reader, think on this. In the world history of cycle ride organisation has there ever been a more expert, more willing team of marshals? The answer is no. Look at the way Richard C was integrated in to this crack squad on less than 24 hours notice. If Fabio Capello asks me how it’s done I’ll tell him – pick only the brightest and the best, Fabio!

Staff Nurse Jill Jamieson, our first aider, and an experienced FNRttCer arrives, and opts for riding at the back with me, which is a comfort. Billy and his mate, the mechanics, arrive and hook up with the van drivers – they’ve all been briefed on the snatch squad routine we’ll employ as far south as Mitcham.

A bit of luck – two young women say that they’ve seen the safety talk on youtube, and they know all the moves. I ask them to join me on a park bench. They’re well up for it, so we jump up and do the safety talk together, signalling left in unison, signalling right in unison, and, amazingly the audience riders go for it in a big way. It is, as one rather unkind critic called it, my Bruce Forsyth moment.

The Met arrives. Our Top Met Person had called me the previous day and rattled through the plan. It’s a good ‘un. At the appointed hour I start shouting ‘We’re on our way!’ and it must be said that 350 Martlets riders react with a speed that 75 FNRttCers might well care to emulate next time round - I name no names. The Metplan, incorporating police carrier with blue flashing light (ever had a police escort, Brucie? – ha!) swings in to action, and the rest of the world is isolated from a corridor of road running down to Clapham Common. The riders crowd on to the road, and I mean really crowd. There are times when I looked forward to the carrier a three hundred yards and more ahead and realise that between me and the it there is only cyclists. Taxi drivers are discombobulated.

A couple of jammed chains defeat TimO (see correction below!), so the snatch squad goes in to operation. Damn, that was fine work, Billy! The rider is not so much put in to a car as injected in to a car. Jill, Tim and I catch the back of the ride with ease, which is moving at a perfectly sensible eight miles an hour. We snake across Clapham Common, and the Metplan, which is clearly perfect in every way, holds off the traffic for all of five minutes while the riders hook in to CS7. We swan down to Tooting Broadway, people, both riders and spectators, of which there are many, grinning like loons. Team User10571 appear to the left and right, pointing the way forward. Messages start coming back from Team Adrian and Andy checks in at Coulsdon. It’s all good. At Mitcham Common the Met (all volunteers, note) jump into the carrier, except for the two that metamorphose in to cyclists and hit the road south. People avail themselves of the toilets and hang around waiting to be transported to Brighton. Billy does some fixing. We shoo them on their way, thank the toilet attendant, warn Andy, and set off behind the slowbies, who are proper slow.

Reports come back from Coulsdon, from Chipstead, from the top of Reigate Hill, from Reigate, from Horley and Haroldslea, from Copthorne. I text forward to Lindfield, to the A272, Slugwash Lane and Mangaman’s bed. We say hello to Andy, who joins us and then to Daniel who goes home to continue writing his PhD. We pick up Mike Morley, and then reach the Safety Sirens who streak off down Reigate Hill at near light speed. We relieve Werner who surely drew the shortest straw of all the marshals, and then Des, Rich, and ‘Teef. We bid goodbye to John Meudell, CTC Councillor, who pedals back home to Dorking. I lock the Reigate toilets with the special key provided by Reigate and Banstead District Council. It is a large key, a municipal key, with an impressive oval thumbpiece. The slowbies go ever so slowly up Cockshot Hill and then down to Lonesome Lane, where we meet Dave, who joins me at the back.

So, we’re now on a kind of mini-FNRttC with half a dozen regulars trundling along behind some young people. It’s a bit like a school outing. We reach AndyA at the A23 who tells me that people were getting lost at the right/left at Victoria Lane. I worry not one bit. Their sponsorship forms are filled out, the routesheet (with my telephone number on) was on the website, and e-mailed to them individually and then handed to them on paper at the start. My conscience is not so much clear, as pristine.

We trundle on through Horley, and head toward a blaze of light at Haroldslea Drive which turns out to be Marna’s new hair colour. And some lights. I lead the mechanized convoy round the Badlands by road, and relieve Richard C at the traffic lights, who is, by that time, a bit on the cold side. A few riders pass by, including the Safety Sirens, who are now riding in a very safe manner.

And then – nothing. User10571 and Tim think that there is a rider lost in the Badlands, a rider who is, apparently, scared of the dark. If you know this area you’ll know that this is not good. Calls are made, her identity established, we call her and it turns out that she’s clinging to the nearest rock-like object – Dave. Tim and User10571 extricate her from the wildest of West Smallfields, she’s put in to a car, and the mini-FNRttC rockets up to the school, passed by ‘Teef chasing errant Aussies who are going in the opposite direction.

The Aussies used the numbers at the bottom of the routesheet and I direct them back to the school. The mini-FNRttC resumes by now some way behind the slowbies, who are so slow that we catch them up before Lindfield where Arthur is directing traffic. By this time reports are coming back from Mangaman, and it’s clear that people were reaching the Madeira from about 4.20 on.

And so we proceed. A crew of regulars chivvying along young people who get more and more tired. You can see the pain in their legs but they don’t give up. The dawn is wonderful, with patches of mist hanging around – Arthur’s photographs tell a true story. We used to do a ride to Brighton in early September, and it was always thus, but the burgeoning number of destinations has rather squeezed Brighton to the margins of the calendar. Perhaps this ride has been a timely reminder. Ruth and her husband have, by the time I arrive, been marshalling at Wivelsfield for four hours. They've clearly enjoyed every minute of it, except, possibly for the minute in which a small group simply went the wrong way, despite handpointing and shouts of 'turn right!. At Ditchling AndyILB and Thom were perished with cold but cheery. I chat to Richard Bates, another CTC Councillor, who tells me he's off to attend a Way Forward committee meeting. If he got through it without dozing off I'd be amazed.

Some of us do the Beacon twice, because we’re worth it. There’s a lot of tired folk at the top of the Beacon, and we gently get them back on their way and go down to Mangaman corner where our boy has been standing with two members of Bricycles (link to follow) for four hours or so. News comes back of the accident, and the first report says that a girl has been hit by a truck. It turns out to be a faceplant, which looks very painful, and she’s clearly upset. Jill is on hand, she’s put in a car and whizzed off to A+E. When I hear more I’ll let you know.

And then down to the front. There are medals, Roger from the Martlets is as gracious as ever, Greg, the Madeira’s proprietor, is looking happy, the team has evidently coped brilliantly, although the seach for Alberta (see badlands above) delayed the passage of the signing in sheets to the Madeira a bit, so some people had come and gone without signing in, but, other than that it all looks good. 350 riders means a considerable amount of cash. Robert is keen to do another one in 2011 and I start speculating about a thousand rider ride. Beer is drunk. AndyA, one of the Martins, Claude, Susie and I ease ourselves on to a train and we wander home. Susie and I find a teenager almost starving to death and emergency procedures are put in to action. Then sleep....

 

[TimO]

... A couple of jammed chains defeat TimO, so the snatch squad goes in to operation. Damn, that was fine work, Billy! The rider is not so much put in to a car as injected in to a car ...

I'd just like to point out that the first rider and bike only defeated me because the efficiency of Simon's snatch squad meant that they arrived so fast we barely had time to attempt to deal with the problem! Number two bicycle failure did get dealt with OK, because the press gang was stuck in traffic a half mile back.

I've got a reputation to support here.

I do have the feeling that it was just as well I wasn't riding, as I may have been busy! Were there too many other mechanical failures?

The thought occurs that for those of us of more mature years (and many are more mature than me), you do have the chance to hammer past, or relaxedly cycle alongside those who are many years younger, and supposedly healthier. It's the chance to get back at people wantonly being young. <fx: evil grin>

 

[dellzeqq]

apologies O'ster!

there were no further mechanical problems after Mitcham.

Given the nature of the BSOs I think we got off lightly.

 

[mistral]

This was always going to be an odd fnrttc. But to arrive at the sea just after 7am after an eventful night with plenty of stops was a bit of a surprise.

As part of team User10571 we followed the Met Bike squad as we set off. We were rapidly joined by around 10 youngsters (the Safety Sirens?) who were intent on leading the ride and demonstrating their bike craft by pulling wheelies and jostling each other.

The Police had done their bit and pulled off to the right just after Mitcham, closely followed by the youngsters, User10571 shouting 'left' kept the rest of the ride on course.

I did a bit of pointing directions with Olaf on the Mitcham Common roundabout. When User10571 gave us the nod me Olaf set off and within a few hundred meters we stopped to help someone struggling to get their tyre on following a visitation.

We then got some pace up and steadily picked our way through the riders until we were told a group had headed left rather than right. We took off for about a mile but couldn’t see them, on our return picked up MacB for the run to Copthorne and some welcome refreshments.

With Mac B as very good company we set off together and before long picked up Mike Morley who joined us for the rest of the ride. The dawn slowly emerged as the sun rose through the mist shrouding the countryside in an eerie calm. Shattered only by the welcome party atop the Beacon, all good. MacB helped Mike up the beacon (at least I think it was that way round ...) with the shortest of stops at the top we were very swiftly enjoying a cuppa on the front.

The meticulous planning and organisation clearly paid off with hardly any mechanicals or other mishaps even the weather had been told to behave. The willingness and determination of the charity riders was great to see. Everyone deserved a medal!

 

[rich p]

Very different to the normal run of the thing but immensely enjoyable. The fastish run out of London made a change, dropping off the marshalls along the way - the speed of which made Des, 'teef and I ponder whether we had time to pop into Reigate's all-nite caff just as the first stream of riders belted round our corner. Rushing back to man the station at the bottom of the Hill I was soon joined by MacB who I hadn't seen for too long. As an ex-smoker I still have this tendency to stand too close to bonfires and Alastair! My dear wife gave me a few minutes of her time as she wended her way with the main peloton and , ever the gent Slowmotion stood guard for me while I watered the bushes discreetly. Other late night Reigate guys and gals zigzagging home offered their erudite musings on the wisdom and stamina needed for such a ride, "Facking 'ell, must be bleedin' mad". Point taken!
Adrian and I had managed to get ourselves near the back and from Turners Hill had an exhilarating ride for a good few miles at top speed (for us!) as the skies lightened through ethereal mists.
As I pointed out to Claudine later on the seafront, where young ladies besport themselves in skimpy clothing, tis the seas an' misses of mellow fruitiness, close bosom friend - we had drink taken by then.
The unflagging enthusiasm of the Martlet volunteers and that of the fellow riders, newbies, casual charity fundraisers and old lags make this ride a definite highlight of the year.
The Beacon was topped...
but the views over the....
Sussex Weald...
with a few high points peeping above the mist...
wasn't.
See, I can do poetry that doesn't rhyme!
Andy Arallsop and I had a philosophical discussion on the flatness of ponds and I warned ILB about the dangers of personal grooming and I'm not talking about underarm deodorant here!
Lovely to talk at length with the entertaing and ever interesting laydeez, theclaud and Suzie who grassed up Simon as a man who remembers where he has marked his territory on every fnrttc and insists on telling her!
Good weather, good company and a good drinky-poo too!
Cheers 'teef, Al, the Andys, Des TC, Slowmo,Suzie, Adrian and OGLetc and apologies to those I've missed.
Good to meet for the first time Dutch-Irish Marna and Mangaman a la Col De An
enough now - Ed

I knew I'd miss out someone! Great to catch up with Greg again, manfully doing another stint as supporter in chief and fighting his way back to fitness. He showed his guts by getting up the beacon and then the contents therein!

 

[Aperitif]

During the post-ride debrief, those gathered speak circumspectly for fear that their words will be taped and used by rival cycling groups, or comic writers searching for new material. Yesterday at the Madeira Café, this took on a new dimension:

Roll model in the making...
Anyway, fast backward to the building excitement at Sloane Square. Having had an easy ride there, drafting Adam, 'FlyingDodo', it was a simple matter of getting organised. I was feeling light-headed, carrying glowsticks, but a bit of bending and fixing saw most of them distributed for fun. Marshal lore was imposed and immediately 'Advance Group SL1' were deadly serious, not even smiling as we scudded, stony-faced to our stations.
It wasn't long before the first group shot through Reigate - mixing it with plenty of artic lorries swinging left through town. It was ok for me during the first hour as the club opposite was pumping out the tunes and people were mingling. (there's an 'l' in there). Mild interrogation took place at various times and I did think about a selection of photos...but my mind was on cyclist watching. Next time maybe...
MacB then turned up for a chat while the main body of the sponsored riders politely rode past, then 'slomotion' Martin came into view. He had arrived from Canada in the morning and jumped on a bike for the thrill of the ride! Lovely to see both these guys again, and I knew breakfast, whenever it arrived, could go 'swimmingly'.
As the ride marshals rode through, accumulating, there was an air of regular FNR that crept in, with the less speedy / competent riders getting the benefit as they chugged towards 'teatime'. User10571 had returned from that foreign place 'oop North' and was gliding around as usual...
Following various assorted diversions, an agitated Simon was 'on a mission' for a while, but the reins were regrasped and relaxation set in.
People who did this ride 'for fun' worked hard to get up Ditchling - good on them.

Andy Allsopp was doing a convincing impression of an Anthony Gormley sculpture atop The Beacon, while Marna was overshadowed by the cross...

The FNRttCs Vampire slayer, who had narrowly missed doing away with signposted with Tim earlier that morning was desperate - "Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno" - which roughly translates as 'One for Hall and Hall for one'. Only beer or cheese - or both would satisfy her!

Martlets staff and volunteers were, without exception, helpful, good natured and in good spirits despite the unusual hour. Whererever there were Martlets, they contributed massively to the enjoyment. Even arriving at The Madeira, (having failed, with Adrian, in a two man assault on the speed camera) - we received a medal. Fantastic organisation! Felt a bit fraudulent though - the real earners will be the one's waking this morning thinking 'bloody hell - I did it'.

Greg and the Madeira crew were busy too. There was a lack of kinky rock this time, and an agitated me trying to convince the breakfasteers that I used to like 'egg and bacon on a plate' rock as opposed to the conventional pink stuff with a black and white photo of the relevant seaside...Like this and, interestingly, there is a page within the same website which rich p has bookmarked, apparently, here.
Adrian reappeared bearing what looked like a bottle of vinegar, which I proceeded to pour on the chip on my shoulder - it was very nice indeed.

Martin got the first energy drinks. Rich was re-joined by Terri, who had done the ride and returned home to get Rich's tablets. He'd been up for ages now and been spurned a few times - he was in need of reassurance, albeit chemical. He had beer too. I can only deduce that Terri was a child bride when she married Rich. Alastair said something about her being a gold-digger and not after a 'looker' all those years ago...can't imagine what he could have been thinking!

Court was in session. MacB mingled, and, slowly but surely, the table grew, and grew and grew...lovely colonisation, only spoiled by the plastic 'glasses' as we had effectively turned the café into a pub. The pub patio immediately next door was empty! Sorry Seagull!

Greg, having realised the error of his ways and bimbled to Brighton after all, decided to give us a very classy fashion display - bike and man as one - a symphony of Shutt, a seance of stealthy Surosa. Very nice. Then the cross examination began and yet another laugh or two - he's a character that Greg - who would wear that amount of trendy stuff and not do it for a bet eh?

Greg gets the Rich P 'proposal'
It was also nice to see the Andys relaxing in the sun, sharing the banter. Young Andy, having had his legs ripped off by Thom on the way to Ditchling toilets (they were on bikes, don't worry) and arallsopp Andy, having captured undoubtedly more impressive images of the Beacon ascent.

Rich did get excited (again) when the Andys decided to re-enact Chapter One of 'Brighton Promenading for Beginners', and started exchanging 'singlets' "Wooo!"

There were a couple of old pros there too - User10571 and Des enjoyed the warm weather that Brighton gave to us, having steered many participants home with their expert brand of encouragement.

McWobble had been talked into submission by MacB - 'home country talk of deep-fried memories etc...'
And then there is Wereon Ourway, the country and western singer turned ride organiser.

Susie and Simon recover with energy drinks...
Must have been a big relief to see that one tucked up in bed. Well done Simon, and thanks. For me, it's easy to turn up and ride when someone else has done all the difficult stuff. And we carried on laughing all the way to the station...
Zzzz - huh? London Bridge.
Try as she might, Marna just could not get anyone to go cheese buying in Borough Market - an enticing prospect in untired times - ditto for drinking beer as weariness kicks in...Southend, the destination for Marna's Brthday picnic today, Sunday, will be a riot of Roquefort, a tumult of Tymsboro - the ultimate cheesy resort!
Happy Birthday for Monday Marna!
Comfort and coffee with Alan, in Hyde Park on the way out of town. Passed by the Al Quds Day rally - impressive shouting! And slept.
Thanks all.


Oh - nearly forgot! Back to the lady of the tape. She was going to Delhi to help autistic children, and was fund-raising on their behalf - to buy equipment.

The FNRttC contributed to her cause and offered her 'three chairs' all of which she refused. I hope she doesn't come unstuck.

And Oh! again. We got one of these just for riding, along with a sincere word from (forgotten the gentleman's name who presented them...Brian? that.ll be Roger then )

Who says you don't medal with Legg eh?

 

[rich p]

[quote name='Aperitif' timestamp='1283680866' post='1386285

[/quote]


Double legg and chips?

 

[Aperitif]

'poetry' from the bard of Brighton.

 

[Bollo]

Important stuff first - thanks to dell, the marshalls, TECs, the cake ladies and the gentlemen from the Met for making that a happening. Outstanding, people, outstanding.

Aa bit of background. My company knows I'm a bit of a bike nut, so I suspected there'd be a general apathy to my taking part in the FNRttC - after all, it's what I do for fun. I needed a gimmick to get those pennies flowing. After sending out a general invite at work, several colleagues had expressed an interest. But when pressed for a commitment, feet were shuffled, eyes were downcast and excuses made (Ramadan, Nas?! The ride's at night - you can eat all you want! Just make it to Brighton before sun-up

). However, I had a definitive 'yes' from the jewel in my sponsorship crown - Robbie. Robbie is 50 and, by his own admission, very overweight. He recognised that he needed a target to motivate him to lose weight, and I had my gimmick. Robbie on the FNRttC would raise eyebrows and loosen wallets and purses.

With less than two months to go and after a few rides on an old BSO, he orders a very sensible tourer from ECB and starts hitting the lanes of Hampshire. The motivation works and, with a week to go, he's ridden the full distance.

On to the night itself. I meet Robbie on the train down to Waterloo and then at Waterloo, join with MacB. After a little bit of banter, we're off to SS. Sign in, meet and greet with 'teef and Mistral, listen to Simon's Pan's People inspired safety talk and then we're off.

Very soon it becomes clear that this is a little bit different. The group is big but largely inexperienced. Also, many people were still a little too self-conscious to bellow out warnings, so I keep my eyes open for hazards and do my bit to break the ice. The Met cyclists smooth the exit from central London - the legal RLJing would keep Commuting buzzing for months. Best of all, the overwhelming reaction of the general public was positive, with many many waiting and overtaking motorists wishing us luck. Most abuse seemed to come from the black cabs, who calmed down a little once they realised the 'f***** ****' of a cyclist blocking the road had Police written on the back of his hi-viz.

A quick comfort stop at Mitcham reveals a problem. At low speed Robbie has notices that his rear wheel has developed a wobble. He's broken a spoke. Luckily, it seems to have snapped in the nipple, so with a bit of care and the application of some tape, it won't cause further problems. With crossed fingers, we set off again, free to ride at our own pace.

And here I begin to worry. Robbie's pace is fast. My Sunday best fast - 20+mph on the flat. Knowing what's coming, I try to bring the pace down, but every time I try Robbie just roars past. Woodcote Rd slows him down, but Portnall's Rd administers the first real shock to the system. By the bottom of Reigate Hill he's recovered a little, but the lesson has been learned and the pace drops to something more sustainable. Even so, by the time we hit Copthorne, Robbie admits to a degree of suffering. I decide to make the rest stop a long one to give him as much recovery time as possible.

Setting off again, we develop a pattern. When the road turn upwards, we each press on at our own pace and then join up again at the top. This works well until Turner's Hill, where I stop to wait slightly after the brow of the hill. After a significant wait, slowly it dawns on me that Robbie must have shot past unnoticed. I set off in pursuit and eventually catch him somewhere after Lindfield. I'm feeling the sprint, but he's recovered some of his spirits. I'm sure now that he's going to make it, but just can't see him riding up Ditchling.

On reaching the bottom of Ditchling, we stop and have a quick chat with Andy and Thom before setting off. We're each going to tackle the Beacon at our own pace and meet at the top. I've never ridden Ditchling before and I'm feeling slightly nervous. The road turns sharp-left and there it is, a ribbon of tarmac ascending into the trees. Cursing my non-compact gearing, I begin to winch my way up. Ten minutes later I'm at the top, honour in tact. I even managed a bit of out-of-the-saddle showboating around the final corner. Thank you horn-ladies, you've no idea how much motivation you provide! But better is yet to come. About five minutes later I see a very large gentleman pedalling up the final incline. Robbie's ridden it! He dismounts with a dirty great grin on his face and I'm grinning right back at him. Superb!

We're into Brighton by 6am for a fryup, medals and photos. Roger French comes around and thanks us for taking part, a very nice touch. We're both pretty tired so decide to head off early on the 7:30 chugger to Southampton. Home and then bed Ikea!!!!!