Velosolo Club

[sussex cyclist]

Why did the cyclist cross the road? Free eggs! They're so friendly out here in the sticks.



(Did all those eggs have the same dad?)



Better read the fine print.



Respectfully, the only eggs I'm acquiring by bank transfer better come from a Fabergé hen.

[sussex cyclist]

Club run into town this morning to gauge coronation fever. I hoped to miss the rain, but just in case, hauled out the Langster, which hasn't seen tarmac since December when that Sabbath arrived and I decided to ride that and only that in an intensive course to overlay new muscle memory over old.



Yes, cobwebs. An insult to a perfectly decent bike that deserves better than foul weather service.

First stop was this guy,



guarding the entrance of a nearby estate. It was necessary for thematic reasons. Also I had to adjust the seatpost.

And so to town.



The Green Man's bike, obvs.



My wife's optician. I quickly decided to judge the window displays. The winner will be announced at the end.



A little too on the nose.



Let 'em eat cake.



I expected great things from the charity shop sector of the economy.



If only.



Ah, mem'ries



I thought the palace had bought all those up and had them pulverised.



This looks like a good spread. Let's get closer.



Now that's what I call a one-two punch.



Three.



Just leaving this here as a setup for…




Do I really have to go through his dating history? (Goes through dating history.)



Sensible or swinging? You choose.



Another optician. But what's this inside?



Surely a security risk if they fall into the wrong hands.



If that doesn't sell some filler, I don't know what will.


Unchain my heart



Frankly I found caped Charles to be a little scary.

OK, time for the winner:



This is just amazing.

only click if you want to ruin the effect

[close]

Zoom in please.



That'll be Andrew.



Smile! Or not.



I can almost see Jim Royle sitting there.



That was nice of them, but I had other plans. That gouge in the doorjamb where I banged my bike isn't going to polyfilla itself.

[sussex cyclist]

Normally a good sign:



Went for my usual ride today but had somehow managed to forget there was going to be a soapbox derby in the way.



Hope I'm not too late.


Oh, behave!

I wasn't certain if I'd be allowed through, and walked my bike up to the marshall. He said sure, I just needed to cycle up the hill, as there were contestants waiting to come down. I would like to report that the crowd cheered my ascent, and so shall. (Actually, someone did exclaim that I was riding a fixed gear. No need to correct him.)





You must've seen that coming.



Senior royalty. Their ride is behind the plane, considerably tarted up since my OP.



A toast to all our good fortune. Behind them, the pilot is getting into his cockpit.



And away it goes! I thought that looked familiar.



Simon & Will, btw.





There's a metaphor about royalty here, if only I could think of it.



Bit of a jam on the way back up to do it all over again. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

[sussex cyclist]

I didn't stick around long enough to find out who won. I hope it was this guy.



Parked next to the pub, whilst a cleanup squad dealt with the last of the hay.

I can help with that

[close]

Here's a flag that can't come down fast enough:



Yeah, should've thought that one through.

[sussex cyclist]

This morning's ride



looks worse than it was. As did this



which at least had the effect of slowing cars down.

Passed a guy taking his rubbish to the bin just as I was muttering something about Hannibal Lecter's memory palace into my voice recorder. "Silence of the lambs," he almost certainly heard me say as I was going by, which will do wonders for my reputation around here.

A few minutes later I met Tom and Molly.



Tom didn't really want his picture taken, but Molly was OK with it.



Tom bought Simon's house. We chatted about what a lovely part of the world this is, but his heart is clearly in Montana, because it came up in conversation more often than it usually does. (Montana count until now: 0. He's not from there, it just takes his fancy.)

Headed over to Bodiam, closed at this hour, which suited me fine.



Stopped by the pillbox



then left before a citizen's arrest could be made. Granted, there were only dog walkers on the perimeter, none so impertinent to our glorious National Trust as to enter the grounds without a ticket. "Gosh, I'm sorry. But we don't have castles back in Montana!" I'd have said if I was nabbed, putting on my best American accent.