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.

[sussex cyclist]

A woman approached me yesterday as I was stopped by the side of the lane. I had a feeling it was going to be a lecture of some sort, but rather than turning up my ipod, I politely hit pause.


"You shouldn't nick stock images either, young man."

She wanted to tell me that I'd scared her half to death recently whilst driving, as she nearly didn't see me in the dappled sunlight down another shady lane. I heard her out, though as her description of the event unfolded it became clear that it wasn't in fact me who'd been happily spared. There was no shouting or harsh words, but I could tell she was a bit disappointed that I didn't offer to change my drab attire.

[sussex cyclist]

It was this guy's birthday yesterday.



He's not worth celebrating – I didn't even want him on the nightstand – but it's all grist for the mill.

Spoiler

[close]

I went to bed last night promising Therese I wouldn't get up at 3 in the morning (she worries how little sleep I get). Awoke a little after 2, so a little over 2 hours sleep. The moon was beckoning: I had to hit the road. It was lovely and cool out, with the wind not too bad for a change.

First I had to effect yet another emergency repair of my shorts. No patience for needle and thread at this hour, so a couple of safety pins would have to do.


Next stop: gaffer tape

The twin would be making this morning's ride. It doesn't get out as much as its slightly older brother because there's no need for it to, and despite repeated scolding, continues to favour the right side of the road. I've christened it Wayward Child.

My goal was an ascent of Alpine Hill. An OS map wouldn't recognise that name, as it's my own private one for the steepest climb hereabouts. I don't do it that often because the way there is a bit traffic-strewn during the day, and I really don't like to run into cars on the hill itself as it's too narrow for comfort: once stopped, it's impossible to get restarted.

When last we met I had to get off and walk about 3/4 of the way up, so it's been on my mind to rectify that. I blame the fact that I was still getting used to a new bike, and my state of fitness that particular day – no exaggeration, I remember feeling close to passing out.

Rather than attempt it straight away I headed into Heathfield, always up for that desolate 28 Days Later ambience.


Rage-inducing house prices

On the way back out again I annoyed a milk man. Not really sure how happy he is in his work, tbh.*


Yes, we use that as a training video

Then I nervously confronted the hill, Nathanial Rateliff & The Night Sweats sweetening the effort.

Up, up, up... then up some more. The record changed to Howling At Nothing.

The false plateau arrived, though the worst of the hill was indeed conquered. Call the rest of the way up a warmdown.

It felt marvelous.

That task completed, all that remained was to go back down again and wait for the coughing to cease and desist.


Placebo

I stopped by Bateman's,


Feels like I'm being watched

passed what appeared to be the scene of a horrible milk-based accident,


Looks like someone needed to be breathalysed

then visited the war monument in the village, which is lit on the anniversary of every death.





Thus endeth the ride.


<sigh> Therese later punked me by saying I look like Sid Vicious.

Ask me about the L plate

There's an L plate at the top of the drive. I've left it undisturbed. At some point I will remove it. That is all.

[close]

* I've had to link to what I thought was a crosspost at CycleChat for that picture, as I can't find it in my files here! An internal investigation has been launched.

There's also an outpost of the Velosolo Club here. Why? Ask George Mallory.

[sussex cyclist]

Another campaign to Bodiam. The National Trust are welcome to use this in their adverts:



Except they're not so interested in bikes. Pretty big on dogs these days though.



Peaceful cruise around the moat.

I infiltrated the pillbox,

took a (very!) short spin on top of it, too - don't tell

[close]

confident my recently acquired Nazional Trust membership would smooth any troubled waters should a steward be awakened by some tripwire I'd snagged at silly o'clock in the morning.



Then I headed back home, the only thing left to do eavesdrop on this couple



whispering sweet nothings.


Three's a crowd

[sussex cyclist]

That can't be good.



Again? Very well.



Oh, they really mean it this time.



Easy does it.



Try not to gawp at that poor sod.



Local eyesore finally coming down.

Yes, the morning's ride had been strewn with metaphors.

[sussex cyclist]

This warrants a stop.


Lead the way.


That mesh on the ground is going to make a prison break difficult.


"Country roads, take me home..."


Sorry, we've already caught our limit.