What a delight a May evening can be ! Especially after staying late at the office for a meeting of the Audit Committee, surely one of life’s non-pleasures, but heigh-ho, we still need the bacon.
So off into the north-westering sun and a serendipitous rendezvous with the rest of the peloton outside Moorlands, where the rhododendrons were not yet out. A short ride between burgeoning hedgerows to the Jacobean, a quite undistinguished building pretending it was once a royal hunting lodge and with only one acceptable ale — Last Drop. The inside of the pub is quite plush, even over-stuffed, but outside in the smokers shelter on the verandah (not because we had any smokers with us but it seemed a shame to miss the birdsong and the 15% waxing moon) there were some relatively comfortable cast iron chairs and benches. (Inside there had also been some local boors who probably do a lot to curtail trade).
Off to the west on the ride back towards the city the horizon red and smoky — and the air rapidly cooling. So after navigating the shopping-trolley-booby-trapped underpass at the A19/ring road junction some of us were ready to settle into the fake rustic charms of the Dormouse — only to be encouraged outside by someone who wanted a ciggy. Real rustic coolth out there, gazing at the ersatz 19th century terrace (c.2002).
