Fair Cop Guv!

So we got our collar felt by Inspector Morse Miller! “We ain’t going down alone, ketchup there may have been but we have witnesses – go and speak to the De-Banks, they passed us on Dorton Hill acknowledging us with a toot and a wave”.

With that little misunderstanding sorted, on with the business of the weekend.

“Oh What a Beautiful Morning” – it was not. Seven thirty on a Sunday morning in the pouring rain dampened our enthusiasm – but not as much as hearing that someone close to us had received some very sad news. It was with heavy hearts that we set off on a morning that would have been easy to walk away from – but today rain and cold were pushed aside by renewed determination to do our little bit for Macmillan. It was a slow start and our usual cheery banter was subdued – but this was a time to dig a little deeper and the close reality of why we’re doing this pushed the cold and wet from our thoughts.

We needed a little something to get our minds back to the job in hand, and there he was - Harry Rand – getting stuck in to the stuff that Harry Rand does. To be honest I don’t know exactly what he does – but as always he was there, doing it. His cheery “hello girls” and welcoming smile gave the Belles an extra boost on a difficult morning. Thanks Harry – you may never know how important you were today.

With Harry fuelling the pedal power we arrived at Haddenham station – and I began to worry – any ride that involved taking our bikes on a train was surely going to be a severe test of our determination and resolve. I was not wrong!

By the time we got off the train at Princes Risborough Sian had briefed Vicky and me about our planned cross-country route. Our immediate thought was that this is going to be too much but today was not a day to give up – today the stark reality of why we’re doing this was brought home - today was a day to make a difference.

Our route, as best as I can explain, was a circular ride taking in Parslow’s Hillock, Flowers Bottom, Bledlow Ridge, Crowell, Chinnor, and Saunderton. Some 16 miles as I learned later.

It was pouring and Sian thought it would be inspirational for us if she sung ‘Rain’ by Mika – and it was, for a short while. Eventually Vicky threatened to remove vocal chords if she didn’t shut up. We continued our ride with the just the sound of bicycle wheels churning through sodden ground.

Chinnor and Crowell Hill were particularly memorable for me because I ended up flat on my face covered in mud. Cycling is a new experience for me, as is brake failure - something I’d prefer not to experience too often. But!! - looking for a positive, Vicky and I chuckled, surely this would signal an end to the mornings endurance. ‘Next around the corner’ we kept telling ourselves ‘would be Andy in his bright green car’ – bikes on the roof, and thirty minutes later we’d be back home in the warm.

Alas, next around the corner was Sian – toolkit in hand, ready to get me on the road again. “Where does this girl get all this stuff?” I wondered. The only thing I’d seen Sian with all morning was an everlasting Marmite and cucumber roll, a magical roll that seemed to last the entire day - no matter how many times she stopped to take a bite. Vicky and I had often wondered if she was superhuman - everlasting fitness is one thing, everlasting Marmite and cucumber roll something completely different. We wondered if she could make us an everlasting bacon sandwich.

Vicky was also on hand with a medical kit. My last tumble not only damaged the bike, I’d also picked up a few cuts and bruises. So here we had it, Sian with toolkit, Vicky with medical aid, and me with my trusty bag of boiled sweets. Clearly I had a long way to go.

Eventually we found ourselves back at Princes Risborough station: a very welcome arrival after the days events, particularly the hill at Small Dean - another demonstration of Sians incredible fitness.

I’m not a great fan of train journeys but today the carriage was like a warm oven, and I was almost on the verge of slipping into ‘girlie’ mode and having a little cry. Perhaps I’ll take up knitting once we’ve conquered The Ridgeway next month, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about chattering teeth, blue hands, and cuts & bruises.

With a difficult day behind us we stopped for tea and cake at Haddenham Garden Centre – a kind of ‘ritual’ now for us Belles, but we still had one dilemma to face. Which way back up through Nether Winchendon? As you’ll know from previous blogs the support and encouragement of Nether Winchendons ‘Big Cheese’ doesn’t stretch to letting us cycle on his land so we left it to Vicky to make the right decision.

Despite Vickys scant regard for the rules of the Manor (sorry mister Big Cheese) it was the professional cyclists who didn’t like us on their road today. Can you believe it – according to the Top Brass in charge – this was an ‘international’ event. Keep off the road –Belles not invited.

By the time we cycled back down into Pollicott it was a quarter past three – we’d been out since seven thirty and cycled a distance of about 27 miles. Vicky and I quietly wondered if we should tie Sian up and leave her out in the rain as a kind of ‘thank you’ for the days activities, but deep in our hearts we knew we’d achieved something we perhaps could not have done without her.

All I have to do now is get my bike back from the repair shop, wait for my bruising to disappear, and let my cuts heal – and we’ll be ready to go again next week!

Alex xx