Why is it that if we are supposed to live in a world where technology is king, and designed to make life easier that bike racks are still so awkward to fit onto a car? It was this very question that I was pondering as it started raining and there was still about thirty-two straps and clips to attach before the bike rack was secured to the car.
So it was that three hours later we set off for the Vale of Pewsey and the Welsh Colleges Summer Cycling Tour 2002. As we passed Oxford the heavens opened which reminded us that the Master and Social Secretary were cycling to Pewsey, and probably through this!
It was at about 4pm that Ross, Malcolm & I arrived in Pewsey, having traveled the most circuitous route possible to get there involving a brief swim for the cars where we hit a flood. We toured the sites of Pewsey, which took all of 2 minutes 23½ seconds, then complained about pub opening times. The good book (AKA Good Beer Guide 2002) indicated a pub, 'The Cooper's Arms', on the edge of the village, which was the best for Wadsworth in the country. So we made for this joined by a soggy pair of cyclists, who took the train for part of the journey!
There are three things in life I find depressing, these are being kicked out of a pub at closing time, waiting on a platform for a delayed train, and the one we had to endure now, which is waiting for a pub to open. There is little as soul destroying as sitting within sight of a tap room, wondering if the pub is going to open, and if it will be worth it. However when the door was finally opened we were treated to a cool, refreshing pint, which was on top form, thank goodness. Time and tide wait for no man, and all too soon we had to repair back into the village and another pub, which whilst good, was of no comparison.
More people started to appear, and some of us decided to make for the tower and do a little ringing. So with our grab secured we excused ourselves with the, 'we're hungry and the pub stops serving at 9', excuse and returned for the pub and more liquid refreshment. A sign of what lay ahead I fell down the stairs and landed in a heap on the lounge floor; after only two pints as well! We later heard of Percy's encounter with a pothole, in which he buckled his front wheel and burst his tyre, while Kit, having reached the top of the hill and fed up of waiting brought a magazine and read most of it.
We were most distraught when a little after 11 we were extracted from the pub by the landlord; what no lockin? Shambles! Sorry wrong society, but really! Thus disassemble we made our way for the hall, a scout hut which, whilst a bit uninviting from the outside, proved to be most comfortable. After the obligatory tea and marmite toast, Percy went round offering blow jobs which, to my knowledge, only Karen took up.
Thursday morning dawned and it was dry if a little cloudy. As the bacon and sausages started cooking the hall started to fill with smoke, just like Cirencester. Breakfast was readily consumed to the sound of hammers as bikes were rebuilt and wheels fitted. A brief debate ensued as to which way to go, whilst the tour organiser inquired which the first tower was anyway.
It was 6 miles to Marden, the first tower, and the cyclists made it without incident. A woman in a pair of green wellies, who informed us that she was in the middle of milking, greeted us. We were slightly disconcerted that the treble made a loud thunk as it went round, and was very bouncy when set. We later discovered that this was caused by the pendulum style of clapper that it was fitted with.
Chirton was less than a mile and a half away, and quickly reached. The ringers of the 5th and 6th had to stand side saddle to ring here. Silly Stedman and Grotty Grandsire were rung with much bewilderment as our thoughts soon turned to lunch. We made for Urchfont, and found a most hospitable establishment called the Lamb Inn for lunch. As there was no Lamb on the menu we mostly opted for baguettes; and a few drinks, as we had a couple of hours to kill. The conversation soon reached the gutter and got rapidly worse, not helped by a joke sparring session.
After lunch I discovered that trying to cycle down a flight of stairs, then getting off your bike half way down was not a good idea. With only a small crack in the fence that I had tried to demolish we made for the tower, at which the ringing was at the expected after dinner standard. The first Percy's Tea Strainer of the tour was rung.
The final tower of the day was at Potterne, atop a sizeable hill. On the way Percy has abuse hurled at him from a passing car, much to the bewilderment of a passing pedestrian. We lost two cyclists who stopped to untangle another cyclist from a tree, not one of ours I might add, before arriving in the village and finding that the tower was still a steep hill away. Some of us carried our bikes up six or seven flights of stairs, to find the others had carried on a bit and found an easier way. The bells were a bit cumbersome and a long way apart but there was some creditable ringing in there; I think.
It was a long way home, over 13 miles, and every village we got to we found the pub closed, much to our annoyance. It was not until a couple of miles outside Pewsey that we found a pub called the seven stars which provided us with much needed refreshment. Some of the more prosperous members of the society stayed for meal in the French restaurant, whilst those of us who could not afford the mortgage returned to 'The Cooper's Arms' in Pewsey where much ale was consumed. My notes become unclear at this point, reading, 'Spring Onions' and 'Gerkin's & Testicles', if anyone knows what these may mean then please let me know. I can certainly remember Rona's reaction to a little spider in the hall as she started hopping all over the place.
It was 7 miles to the first tower on Friday, and was too hilly for a few people, including me. At All Cannings we rang London, Cambridge and Norwich and some Stedman as well. A couple of cyclists had come via the canal towpath and we all discussed using this to get to the next tower. We split into two groups, one taking the road, the other the canal. On the way to the canal Malcolm was attacked by a dog, which he tried to run over, but escaped without injury. The canal towpath was, to say the least, bumpy, especially considering the state of our backsides from the previous days cycling, but at least it was level.
The canal lot beat the roadrunners, but only because they did not get distracted into a pub. Bishops Cannings proved to be one of the best towers on the tour, both in terms of the bells and the ringing. As well as Stedman and Grandsire Triples, and the Little Bob Major there was a touch of 6-Spliced Major that did not fire out, surely a record! Flushed with success we repaired to the Canal Bridge Inn where the ale flowed like, well flowing ale.
So it was that 2 ½ hours later that we emerged from the pub, some at more of an angle than others. We headed into Devizes with Malc trying to flatten another dog on the towpath on the way. We very nearly had a lock out at the next tower but the key arrived eventually. An attempt was made to ring spliced Yorkshire and Percy's Tea Strainer, but it did not go so well. It was not the only method to fire at that tower either! A few people got 'lost' on their way to the last tower. That is 'lost' finding their way out of the pub. Disgraceful!! The ringing at this tower was indifferent though some Bizarre Bob Minor was rung.
Unfortunately Ross decided to lead the cyclists along the towpath and kept stopping, causing a few pileups. Whilst going under a bridge he wobbled a bit close to the water, but I am happy to report that nobody actually went in. Malc tried to run over a further five dogs on the way. We met up with the dropouts (non-cyclists) at Honey Street and a non-Wadsworth's pub. A few pints were forced down and Percy's spicy hot nuts were enjoyed.
The first major bike accident of the tour took place on the way home. As far as I could ascertain it involved Karen forgetting the old adage about 'never forgetting how to ride a bicycle', in other words leaning too far in the wrong direction!
Chicken a la Cambells Soupe de Mushroom was the dish of the day, although I was a little put off when the topic of conversation at our area of the table turned to projectile vomiting by members of Welsh Colleges in the past. Back to the Cooper's, after dinner, where the local rock festival was in full swing, and at 20,000 decibels. As the evening progressed many pints of Summersault were consumed before Karen did one of her own, backwards off the bench. She decided that she preferred this new outlook on life and stayed there. Not the only one in the wars either, as Malc miscalculated the curb and went sprawling.
Now I am not sure who choose the hall, but I can tell them that it was a mistake to pick one next to a children's playground. Four of us visited the 'burger van', feeling that if we were going to get food poisoning then best do it with style. There was a competition to see who go 360 on the swings before Malc got stuck on the slide and I bent one of those springy things. Why is it that when you have been told to be quiet that is the last thing that you can do? We all stood outside the hall for about half an hour discussing which lights we should use, before deciding that the porch was the best. Ross starting lobbing bits of card at sleeping people before he came to turning off the lights. When he did so he fell over a chair before Malc went backside over elbow; and no one, to our knowledge, woke up!
Saturday started with a poisoning attempt as a spider appeared in the morning coffee. Then all hell broke loose as Rhiannnon let the fat catch fire, and panic ensued. I say panic ensued but, as I was swimming at the time and did not find out till I got back, I do not know for certain. Saturday also saw a few more people drop out of cycling, such as me, because of the evil looking contours on the map.
The first tower of the day, at Milton Lilborne, saw some veritable ringing, especially including the spliced Cambridge, Pudsey, Superlative, London, Norwich, Welsh Colleges Delight and Mothercare Minor. With that out of the way and there were hills to be tackled. Even the car struggled a bit as we made our way through Cuckoo's Knob and up a 1 in 7. Not being malicious we even stopped to encourage a couple of weary cyclists at the top of the hill! Having toured the sights of Marlborough (got lost) we waited for the rest of the group. The ringing was surprisingly good considering the tiredness that some people must have been sustaining, with some Stedman being got at the second time of asking.
So to lunch at Preshute, just outside Marlborough; and forced inside by light, if persistent rain, talk turned to having a striking competition in the afternoon. The master's touch was anything but masterful at the first attempt, but set the standard for the ringing that followed. Being in the first group we had conspired to ring the bells down, and upset the second group. We took our time, and executed an orderly lower. The next group now had a 2 minute practice time to ring the bells up, and practice their method. It was not the most musical raise I have heard in a while as they fired up. It took them only 28 seconds as well; pity the bells were not a little heavier, eh? With that exertion out of the way they went on to ring some very good doubles, which turned out to be the winning piece. The next group also rang some doubles, and the last group opted for backward ringing which confused everyone a bit.
Dove's Guide would have us believe that West Overton was unringable, which was interesting considering that this was to be our last tower of the day. It certainly was different as we were shown the home made, if incredibly mechanical clock, which included an electric switch for removing the clock hammers. Various minor methods were rung before the cyclists considered the best route home. It was decided to go back to the canal side inn of the previous day. So with Queen's, 'I want to ride my bicycle', playing at a suitable volume we passed the cyclist and made for the pub. There was a very nice downhill stretch for the cyclists, complete with a great view, which distracted the driver a bit! Now it was the turn of Malcolm's spicy hot nuts to be offered around, as talk turned to dinner. Curry seemed the favourable option, but not before a few more pints had been consumed, and a local greyhound race had taken place.
We made for the Greyhound and a pint before the meal whilst the curry house was panicked by our order for 25 curries! Unfortunately the heavens opened at this point leaving us stranded in the pub; how unfortunate, so we ordered another pint and waited for a break in the rain. A quick dash later and we sat down to demolish the several tonnes of curry that had been provided for us, before a meeting to decide the location of the next summer tour, which is to be Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire as suggested by Pat.
With dinner over we returned to the pub for a few more pints and a game of killer, which we gave up on after an hour or two. As it approached 11 we were informed that the club would soon be open. 'Club?' we asked, to which the landlady replied that there was an upper room with a late night license. Malcolm mumbled that it did not sound like his sort of scene. 'Go on Gramps, I'll find you some earplugs', was the response. So we all walked round, paid our pounds and entered a large room with bricked up windows and filled with every teenager from Pewsey. Our group filled half the room and proceeded to teach the locals how it's done! Percy reached for the stars, unfortunately his pint got there first, landing squarely on Karen amongst others as it returned to earth. We all must have enjoyed the evening because as the lights came on at the end we were about the only ones left. The landlady congratulated Gramps on having stayed the course and presented him with a glass. We all returned to the hall, all that is apart from Percy, who was last seen leading two female members of the society into the park; I'll comment no further!
A rather disassembled crowd walked around Pewsey the following morning looking, in vain, for a coffee shop. We eventually gave up and having cleared the hall made for the Golden Swan in the next village where, as on the first day, we sat outside the pub waiting for it to open. After lunch and an attempt to write off Percy's bike completely we sat in the sun and tried to persuade ourselves into leaving. Car by car people left until the summer tour ended for another year.
Tour statistics:-
Youngest member ever on a tour - Jamie
Accidents involving bikes - 4
Accidents involving Karen - 2
Accidents involving frying pans - 1
Methods fired out 23½
Pints consumed - 863 ish - we are going to count properly next year, and reach the 1000 apparently!
Glasses stolen from pubs - 4
Many thanks to Percy for organising the tour, and everyone else who helping the smooth running of another great summer tour, but please, no hills next year!! See you all in the Forest of Dean.
- James P Mort