Having been displaced from my self imposed role as Senior OGIL Ride correspondent I am forced to report on the other ride that takes place on Wednesdays, at least during the summer. It’s a bit like, after a life writing for the Times, being asked to put finger to keyboard for the Falmouth Packet. Still, what else is one to do on a Wednesday eve, other than to clean the bike and polish one’s helmet?
The pub rides start at HQ at 6pm with a pre-agreed destination; democratically chosen at a Falmouth Wheelers Club meeting. However, the decision is taken by those who turn up at club meetings, the majority of whom don’t actually go on the pub rides, so you can’t blame me for reflecting upon the similarity to the process that concluded with the other significant event that happened today. I am referring, of course, to Emperor Boris, seen here with his well thought out plans for exiting the EU. Don’t worry folks; it will be all over by Christmas.
The pub riders do have that keen eye on the starting clock for which the OGIL are well known, so Denise, Tania, Teresa, Caroline, Chris, Jim, who at 17 stone shouldn’t be easily confused with five pound Jim, Ian and myself set off for Stithians. Ian had had so much fun leading the OGIL ride earlier in the day that he insisted on taking charge, taking us a winding route, via Budock and No mans Land, turning off towards Mabe Church, in search of a hill or two. Then it was across the main road and down to Greek Church before climbing back up to the top of Tubborn Hill and past Burley Aquatics. Here, Ian gave an opportunity of continuing straight on to Stithians or a slightly longer loop round Trewithen Moor to Penhalvean, before dropping back into Stithians and the Seven Stars. Just one took the whimp’s route and was waiting for us when we arrived, along with Robin, Richard, Julian, Jenny and Steve. It was a sunny evening and all were happy to sit outside and chat. When the talk came round to moving on to The Stag at Ponsanooth, the ladies made an exit, along with Richard who went on ahead to order the chips. It was a fast spin down Tubborns hill to 5 ways and down the main road into Ponsanooth. Richard was ensconced in his favourite seat, another reason why he left early. It was here that I learnt that pub destinations are, in fact, decided by those attending the last, and not left to the members meeting. I took this with a pinch of salt, and a few of Richards chips, as there appeared to be at least three decisions made and as the beer continued to flow the possibility of any being remembered diminished. It was an entertaining evening, with Steve detailing just how the organs are removed during a post-mortem and a spontaneous burst of song from the resident male voice choir. It was all too much for me, and with copy to file I made my excuses and left. The cool night air and dangerously close traffic soon cleared my head. 23 miles for me. Dean
PS. Next weeks pub ride is to see the hanging baskets of Comford, or was it the Blue Anchor, or may be Bolingey Inn!