Saturday 19th January 2019

I reluctantly tore myself away, twilight dictating the state of play, having sunk several glorious pints of Irelands finest. That left five of the seven man crew, who departed the cobbles so many hours earlier that day, to push on and sink several more. (Their ton to my fifty you might say).
Ralph left us Cockerham way, having soldiered on gamely with a nasty slit in his tubeless tyre, a last minute change of group leaving him a little under biked on some of the rougher stuff.
Riding solo, the four or so miles home from the Kenlis Arms gave me time to reflect.
The near total dilapidation of Witters Lane.
The indecision created at Island Farm as to where the bridleway actually goes. Yes it does go through the driveway.
The pleasure of riding rough lanes without worrying too much about potholes.
Wardley Creek, the Howards Way of the north.
Ralph nearly ending up in a bunker. Hope the shoulder isn't too damaged.
The hard yards into the wind on the Pilling coastal path.
Malcolm's inside info, given on the Cobbles, re the mental state of a farm owner on route. We walked through the yard without contact.
The shear mass of Dave's non tupperware bike.
The word Tupperware.
The blast down Nicky Nook valley.
The welcome at the pub and the gratis fried chicken buns.
Finally and most memorable the constant and mostly amusing banter from Phil, Dave, Pete, Chris, Keith and Ralph.