Number 140 Oct 05
NEXT COPY DATE – TUESDAY 15th
NOVEMBER.
HON SEC’S JOTTINGS by John Bedford
Family Rides. I am aiming to get new Family Rides going,
either on Saturday or Sunday morning. The frequency would depend on demand. The
location could be Sutton Park, some local lanes, with the occasional visit to a
Trail somewhere. I already have a number of contacts. Is there any CTC member
who would like to guide this group? An early response would be appreciated.
Thanks.
The Section ANNUAL GENERAL MEETING will be held
on Tuesday 1st November at Shenstone at 8.15pm. The usual nomination
form is on the clubroom noticeboard. Nominations, along with a signature of a
Proposer and Seconder can also be passed to Beryl or myself. This year there
are specific vacancies for a Social Secretary and a Campaign Secretary. There
are only four Committee meetings a year. Is it not time that you made a
contribution to the running of this great Section of ours?? See inside front
cover of Northern News for existing Committee members.
CHRISTMAS SOCIAL PROGRAMME
Thursday Christmas
Lunch. 1st
December. Bromley Hayes GC.
Meal at
1.30pm. Menu details later. Bookings to Alan Dodwell.
Friday Christmas
Lunch. 9th
December. The Dog, Whittington.
Bookings to
Brian Hailing.
Festive Tea &
Award Presentation. Sunday 11th December. Shenstone Clubroom. Bookings to Val
Jones.
Please do not leave
your bookings to the last minute.
Other Dates for your Diary.
Winter Clubroom, Carrs Lane Church Centre.
Birmingham. 7.30pm
Thurs. 10th November. ‘A Medley of Mountains’ by Bob Tinley
Thurs. 8th
December. ‘Tandem Trotting’ by Peter Clare
Coventry Section Slideshow. Friend’s Meeting House, Coventry.
Sat. 12th
November. 7.30pm. ‘Cycle Touring in America’
by John
Bedford.
District AGM. Sunday 13th November. 12midday.
Whitacre Heath.
CLUB JERSEYS by Val Jones
I have received one or two enquiries about club jerseys. We need to order a minimum of 10 so if you are interested can you contact me. The Club subsidizes each jersey to the value of £10. Prices work out at about £22 for the short sleeve and £28 for the long sleeved version. They come in sizes from extra small to extra, extra large.
If you are interested let me know as soon as possible because it takes time to get them made and printed.
Tel: 0121 353 9142
From John Evans
I would like to thank everyone for their kind thoughts and wishes during my recuperation from a hernia operation, and I would like you to know that I can’t wait ‘to get my leg over’ again in January.
Special thanks to Brian
Hailing, Chris Jackson, Val Jones, Jim Muir and ‘Doddy’ for taking over my
rides in the meantime.
A STORY OF ROMANCE
AND……? by Albert Atkins
(With apologies to Barbara Cartland)
Pam and Josie were their names, two stars in
the firmament known as the Walford Road Roller Rink. Josie small and dark
haired, Pam more generously built and blonde, both immaculately dressed in
ever-changing combinations of sweaters and short skirts, with the unmistakeable
badge of the better off in the early nineteen fifties – their own beautifully
polished white roller boots!
Now that I’ve got your attention, on to the
nitty-gritty. Every Sunday evening, after the club run, (proper runs in those
days, 100 to 120 miles on a 76 inch fixed wheel most weeks) my friend and I cycled to the roller rink, parked our
bikes in the foyer, (in those days they were still there two and a half hours
later) paid our two and sixpence admission fee (inclusive of skate hire) and
entered the testosterone filled atmosphere fuelled by hundreds of healthy
teenagers.
After bribing the lad who handed out the skates
to get a good pair that manoeuvred correctly, (another threepence, but hang the
expense), we joined the mayhem. Target for Tonight, (a wartime phrase for younger
readers), Pam and Josie. Our best chat-up lines, offers to buy refreshments,
showing off our skating expertise gained over a couple of years of regular
attendance, ‘accidentally’ bumping into them and other teenage tricks of the
trade unaccountably had absolutely no effect, not a word in return noses in the
air, nothing. Hand in hand, round and round they went, serenely ignoring our
best efforts at intercourse (verbal of course).
Frustratingly this scenario continued for
several weeks, doing nothing for our hormone levels. A change of tactic was
required. Seeing them board the No. 8 bus, we tucked in behind to find out
where they lived (the buses were slower then) which turned out to be one of the
posher roads near Aston Cross. They had flowers in the front garden, that’s how
we could tell. Haunting the area in the evenings proved equally unproductive.
Despite several sightings, these birds refused to chirp.
However, as in all the best novels, fate took a
hand. Reading the Birmingham Mail while on my paper round, a picture on the
back page gripped my attention. There they were, seated on a bench at New
Street Station, suitcases and roller boots at their feet! The caption read
‘Pam---and Josie--- off on their annual holiday to Brighton!’ We couldn’t believe
our luck.
Five o’clock on Saturday morning saw us on our
way, saddlebags packed with as much food as we could reasonably scrounge (we
were both from large families with only one breadwinner), a pair of jeans and a
sweater for the evenings, and my life savings of thirty-two shillings and
sixpence. Nine-fifteen saw us breakfasting in Oxford (65 miles) followed by
stripping my rear wheel which had developed a nasty crackling sound, which
proved to be three broken ball-bearings. Wasting precious money on new bearings
was not an option so the good bearings were re-distributed, eight on the
sprocket side, seven on the other, surprisingly giving no further trouble for
the rest of the trip.
A snack at Reading (about 100 miles covered)
followed by drinks and another snack at Horsham (140 miles approx.) set us up
nicely for the last 40 miles to Brighton, arriving about six o’clock.
This gave us time for a transport café meal,
then a quick tidy-up before finding the Brighton Roller Rink. Leaving our bikes
with a friendly shopkeeper, who couldn’t believe we’d come all the way from
Birmingham until our unmistakeable accents convinced him, we went to the rink.
Unfortunately there was no story-book ending. They didn’t turn up.
Disconsolately we reclaimed our bikes and did a short tour of Brighton before
thinking about where we would spend the night.
Obviously
Bed & Breakfast etc was out of the question, so in the end we opted
for two deckchairs each under Brighton Pier, anchoring our bikes to our legs
with the toeclip straps. We slept like logs despite the roar of the waves on
the pebble beach.
On Sunday morning, after a good breakfast at a
greasy-spoon type café, we decided to do a tour of Brighton. For the next three
hours we scoured almost every road, street and avenue, in the vain hope of
catching sight of the objects of our desire, but with no luck.
Resigned to failure, in the afternoon we
decided to visit London as neither of us had ever been there. We arrived there
late afternoon, just in time to be stopped by the police while Tower Bridge
opened to let a ship through. This prompted us to ride back and forth across
every bridge over the Thames in central London, prior to a late meal, carefully
budgeted for, money going down rapidly.
At eleven o’clock the subject of where to spend
the night reared its ugly head. We were unexpectedly accosted by a friendly
policeman who, after we had explained our problem, took us to several cheap
lodging houses, which unfortunately were all full. He then took us to a bandstand
in Hyde Park, where once again we settled down in two deckchairs. He gave us a
covering note to explain to anyone in authority why we were there, and said he
would keep an eye on us as we were on his beat. I slept quite well till four
o’clock, but woke quite cold despite wearing all the clothes that I had taken
with me. I followed my nose to an all-night café only a few hundred yards away,
and spent tenpence on beans on toast and tuppence halfpenny on a cup of tea. A
bit extravagant, but I was now warm again.
At about six-thirty we decided to start for
home. After my friend had had his beans on toast we started threading our way
through north London. We settled down to a steady pace straight up the A5; no
time for sight-seeing. We stopped for a final meal at Dunstable, only fivepence
left between us. On the outskirts of Coventry we came across a welcome
transport café. In those days of galloping inflation (1953) some cafes had put
the cost of a cup of tea up to threepence. Could we afford two cups of tea or
only one between us? It was our lucky day, they were still selling cheapos. The
last leg to Brum was the hardest as we arrived home absolutely famished
mid-afternoon, but soon recovered after my father presented us with fish and
chips, bread and butter – manna from heaven after a four hundred and
forty-three mile excursion.
Fast forward two weeks on this descriptive
video. The scene, the Sunday night Roller Rink Club, the cast list unchanged.
But what a result! Upon our slightly late entrance (the club run was slightly
late finishing) we were ambushed by the two young ladies we’d tried so hard to
attract. They could speak! Apparently they had seen us in Brighton, but
were unable to attract our attention. The opening words from Josie’s cupid bow lips
will live in my memory for ever! “We saw yo in Brighton – did you come all that
f------- way just to see us?” The old saying concerning ‘books’ and ‘covers’
came immediately to mind. In those days swearing was not a normal part of mixed
conversation, as unfortunately compulsory these days. We spent an evening on
the rink joined at the hip, with the inferred promise of more intimate delights
later, of which we took partial advantage (this was the early fifties). A date
for the cinema was arranged, but somehow the spell was broken. The thought of
the acute embarrassment we felt every time they opened their mouths in company
outweighed the physical delights on offer.
The Spring Hall Ice Rink gained two converts
from that week onward.
4- DAY
TOUR OF WEST SUSSEX
by
Mary Evans
West Sussex is an area of
England unknown to us so we thought we would like to join Roger Nash who knows
it very well, having grown up in Havant.
There were
18 of us on this tour. Our accommodation was in the University College of
Chichester, once a Teacher Training College known as Bishop Otter.
During the
three cycling days, we were treated to the prettiest rides which had everything
and we weren’t disappointed. Roger
warned us that the area was very busy with traffic but we found that it was not
more so than here in north Birmingham.
Day 1 –
Monday: Chichester – Bosham – West Itchenor – East and West Wittering –
Sidlesham – Chichester
The weather
was grim looking as we set off from the College at 9.15. The skies were leaden and it looked as if it
was going to be a wet one!! We cycled
along tracks and trail, country lanes and gorgeous villages with very des.res.
until we reached Bosham (Bozzam) with its delightful harbour and ancient
church. We had time to look around this
fine Saxon Church with its Roman tiles and bricks built into the walls and
where Canute’s daughter is buried.
(Canute had a palace here) and it was a Bozzam that he rebuked his
courtiers when they asked him to hold back the tide). There is a copy of a
scene from the Bayeaux Tapestry in this church depicting Harold riding to
Bozzam Church before his voyage to France.
Bozzam is
also a place which is crammed with artists who seem to outnumber the ordinary
sightseers and it is not hard to understand why because it is one of the beauty
spots of Sussex.
From here
we crossed by ferry to West Itchenor and by now the weather had become much
worse. Not far out of West Itchenor the
heavens opened and the rain came down like stair rods. It was impossible to carry on and we spent a
good half an hour under trees, bus shelter and somebody’s carport – we were
very wet.
We were
drenched when we arrived at West Wittering and were unable to sit outside to
eat our sandwiches so we huddled together in a café until the rain abated.
After
Bracklesham, we called in to see Earnley Parish Church and here we stayed until
the rain abated. It is a small and
simple building with its origins going back 800 years. In April 1943, the roof collapsed when a German
bomb fell nearby, but undeterred the small worshipping community continued to
hold services outside by the road. The
church itself was badly infested with death watch beetle, examples of which
were on show.
From
Sidlesham, we cycled along ancient tracks with glorious names like Centurion
Way, Emperor Way, Roman Way, Legionary Trail.
One particular overgrown path wound its way through Brandy Hole Copse, a
route we took every day and it is where Romans and Iron Age people quarried for
iron ore, now a place of natural beauty. 37 miles
Day 2 –
Hayling Billy Trail
Chichester
– Fishbourne – W. Ashling – Woodmancote – Funtington – Havant – Langstone Quay
– Hayling Island – Fishbourne - Chichester
What a
difference a day makes. It was bright,
warm and sunny. We followed tracks,
paths and leafy lanes, skirting Roman Fishbourne by way of the Legionary Trail.
Coffee stop was at Emsworth with its attractive harbour and millpond full of
swans and cygnets. The scenery on this
day was ever changing, so diverse. We
used many tracks and trails, cycling alongside estuaries, reaching Langstone
Quay and crossed the bridge to Hayling Island.
We followed the track alongside the estuary from where we could see
Havant and Portsmouth. This area, once
neglected, has now been restored and the Little Tern has made a comeback along
this estuary. Also spotted were Little
Egrets.
We took the
Hayling Billy Trail (disused railway line) which led us on to the roads near
the ferry and beach. Lunch stop was
spent on the beach overlooking the estuary with Portsmouth on the other
side. It was very warm and we basked in
the sun, watching the Little Terns swooping and diving for sandeels.
We returned
more or less the same route which looked so different, stopping at Fishbourne
Palace for afternoon tea.
Today was a
most happy and satisfying day in a beautiful area! 41
miles
Day 3 –
Chichester – Mid Lavant – Funtington – West Dean, Singleton – Goodwood –
Chichester
A cooler
day but still sunny and warm. We set
off to Singleton again cycling along and through beautiful countryside and
villages full of flowers, trees and attractive shrubs. The guide book says “Funtingdon is a typical
village of the Chichester plain, set in a flat and featureless
countryside”. We found it to be
picturesque and there was one lane, Watery Lane which seemed to have
everything, i.e. quiet road with a stream running alongside; trees overhanging
and meeting in the middle; fine houses and cottages with a profusion of
flowers; wide open fields to the right.
This lane eventually led us down to the Singleton village and its large
duckpond which was surrounded by medieval and Georgian houses.
No coffee
break today because we had a combined coffee and lunch stop at the Weald and
Downland Open Air Museum where houses, barns and workshops, typical of the
traditional buildings of the South East have been saved from the effects of
time or the developer and reconstructed on a gently sloping parkland site,
covering forty acres. Dead or dying
country crafts are being revived here.
Fascinating place. Well worth a
visit.
The last
stop of the day was Goodwood Racing Track (having climbed Dunton Hill first)
which is situated in a spacious amphitheatre of downland. After what seemed to be miles of glorious
downhill, we came upon the Goodwood Racing Circuit to watch young twenty and
thirty-somethings race their Porsches round and round the track.
We made our
way back to Chichester but some of us chose to look around Chichester Cathedral
which is home to, apart from the history attached to it, a magnificent window
by Chagall; paintings by Graham Sutherland and a striking tapestry by John
Piper. 30 miles
Before
leaving Chichester the following day, we spent two hours at the Roman Palace at
Fishbourne. A must see place with
excavations continuing to this day.
We made our
way to Somerset to stay with our friend who treated us to a mouth-watering ride
around the countryside near Yeovil.
Another area where we must have a holiday!!
This 4-day
break was a gentle introduction to an area unknown to us and it was well worth
it. Jill and Bill Drake were with us and I think they enjoyed it as much we
did.
MISSING by Alan Dodwell
The day approaches when
I hope to be back riding with the club again. Since the unfortunate accident on
the Northern Audax in April, my enforced "lay-off" has given me
plenty of time to reflect on my cycling activities. My machines have been
cleaned and serviced and are ready to hit the road again. (An unfortunate
expression given my circumstances!) My long suffering wife has had to put up
with my bad moods as I stare out of the window at the cyclists speeding by.
(Not strictly true since as most of you know, I live in a cul-de-sac!) But you
get the drift!
During my absence I have
missed the sore rear end and the aching back and legs after a long day out, but
who cares, it was doing me good! I have missed the lovely lady Ruby, who like a
Mother Hen, assembles her brood every other Tuesday for coffee at Shustoke . I
have missed the Tea and a Bun at St Mary's , the bacon sandwiches at Hoar Park
Farm and the chance to con a free drink out of the new member, who when
discussing ' bikes ',says to me “What’s yours?” and quick as a flash I answer
"I'll have a half!" I have missed the sheer terror of hurtling down a
steep hill out of control, every part of my anatomy 'clenched', my brakes
smoking and wondering if I'm going to
stop at the traffic filled A38 at the bottom! I have missed the expletive
filled air as, standing in a field mending a puncture, I realize the reason the
replaced tube refuses to inflate is because it's the damaged one I removed only
10 minutes earlier! I have missed the mobile classrooms of Geoff who informs me
that a 52 tooth chainring multiplied by Pythagorus (or something)will give me a
better gear ratio and Alastair correcting me to the fact that the Flying
Scotsman was a famous engine and not Billy Connolly off on another of his world
tours! I have missed the ribbon of yellow tops as the Pelaton threads its way
through the lanes and I've missed the speed of my escape as the local mangy dog
tries to fasten his teeth round my bony, but to him, juicy ankle! I have missed
the feeling of rain running down my neck as the weather turns from the forecast
'Sunny and Dry' to ‘Wet and Windy’, and I've missed the times when it's my
'ride' and I'm totally lost and the excuse I give is "I'm adding another
loop”. I have also missed the thankfully rare altercation with the motorist who
seems to think that his road tax (if he has paid it, that is) purchased the
tarmac we are riding on and we have no right to be there! I have missed sharing
the odd Ginger Wine with Murray and a Jack Daniels with Roy which incidentally
raises the question "Why is his back wheel always 200 yards ahead of
me?" I hope to be re-united with some of these missing facets later in the
year.
BICYCLING BYGONES by Terry Forks
So you find Maitland’s legs tasty,
well you’re not alone, this Staffordshire bull terrier did as he launched
himself from out of a farm gate at said calves. This fully focused salivating canine Sylvester Stallone came at
Bob with malicious intent but he had no idea who he was dealing with since the
radar had picked up the threat even as this gastronomic thought gelled and the
throttle was already open. Two microseconds later Bob was at Mach 2 and the JCB
type jaws crashed together in empty space.
Unfortunately this space was under and to the rear of the chainwheel
hence the back wheel had nowhere to go but up and over this solid lump of
muscle. Doubly unfortunately since on top of this rear wheel was the not
inconsiderable bulk of one Dickey Bowes.
This then was the Pyramid Tandem 30 at Manchester some 50 years ago and our
intrepid duo could be likened to putting Boardman and Hutchinson together in
that they had time to go back, give the dog a little TLC, admonish the owner,
help with the harvest and still go on to win.
However the tandem didn’t come out of this incident Scot free and here
lies the kernel of this adventure, a tale of coincidences and improbabilities
that seem incredulous today.
Rewind a couple of weeks before the 30 when Bob
had found some hens teeth in the shape of a pair of wooden rims capable of
taking wired on tyres. These were
street playthings of a couple of young lads who had no idea what they were
bowling around, but Bob spotted them. Money changed hands and two confused
deprived children were left as a result.
Now Dickey Bowes was involved in some development work and had given Bob
a state of the art hub in order to build a rear wheel with the above rims. The
spokes were captured in slots for easy removal so without going into the
engineering, suffice it to say the present damage was causing spokes to remove
themselves easily and thus the wheel was in danger of collapsing. Naturally they had ridden to the event
(together with Billy Cotton and Billy Wells) and would have to ride the 50
miles or so back to Birmingham, as you do, or as you did then, since the 4 by 4
hadn’t been invented yet.
It was obvious that some weight would have to
be redistributed to stand a chance of getting home but after some miles it was
clear that this wasn’t enough and so a team conference was held at Mrs Bates
Goose Tree Café near Newcastle under Lyme.
Clearly Bob would have to ride the stricken machine the remaining 35
miles solo. But, what to do with Dickey?
The natural solution of culling was not
considered since Dickey was the rightful owner of the other tandem, but instead
an arrangement of bodies was assembled in which strange and unique couplings
were made, which today, would surely qualify for inclusion in some police
register. Dickey would pilot the
healthy tandem with Billy Cotton sitting astride his shoulders, feet dangling
at or below the handlebars and holding on to hair, nose or whatever came to
hand. Billy Wells at the rear had two
important functions in that he had to supply some motive force as stoker but
also provide a counter-balance against tipping forward. This was particularly necessary since once
underway any slowing or stopping caused massive instability and poor old Billy
Cotton was the most likely to eat tarmac.
The same was true on hitting potholes and the like and it says a lot for
Billy Wells’s skill and concentration that they arrived home without accident.
The picture I would hope that you have
formulated is of this towering threesome making their way from Newcastle to
Birmingham at a very brisk pace, not stopping for man nor Bobbies (very few
about then as now), halt signs (and fortunately traffic lights weren’t the
confused myriad of hazards that they now pose) or whatever until they reached
their destination. But, how are they
going to stop? Don’t even think about brake efficiency.
Fortunately there was still gas street lighting
near Billy’s home in which the support pole was fitted with crosstrees at lamp
level to accommodate a maintenance ladder. The plan was that the tandem would
slow then Billy would launch himself into space and grab said crosstrees
acrobat style leaving the remaining pair to stop normally.
Did he do it? I believe so but since the other
three powered off leaving him to regain terra firma by himself he may still be
hanging around there.
WITHERLEY
SCARECROWS by Mary Evans
AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY 2005
The C
ride joined the B ride at
Planters Garden Centre and 10 cyclists made their way to Witherley.
“Is that an Ostrich scarecrow Daddy?” – a child pointing to Colin who
had struck a scarecrow pose with attitude!
Lunch was
eaten on a grassy grave in the churchyard where we must have looked a
dishevelled group and I’m sure I overheard a passing remark which went like
this – “are those cyclist scarecrows?”
Any
chance of a cup of tea, please?
requested John.
To our delight, two kind ladies took pity on us
and offered us a cup of tea and biscuit if we made a donation to the
church. Not only did we have a welcome
cuppa but chocy biscuits too!
A swift
walk around the village followed and two scarecrow displays caught our eye,
i.e. Lance Armstrong on bike complete with yellow jersey (Colin said he looked
in better shape than he (Colin) did”.
The second
display was that of a privet hedge cut into the shape of a train engine with
number plate on the front, together with objects, signals and signs (original
Higham-on-the-Hill station sign) connected with railways. Very imaginative.
When is
an effigy not an effigy? When it is a
medieval knight created out of beer cans
On entering
the church and walking up the nave towards the altar, we saw a knight in
shining armour. His name? Sir Carling Boddington Bass who was made
completely out of beer cans. Very
clever.
We took the
canal towpath from Polesworth to Fazeley, hot pedalling it to Oak Farm where
something special awaited us in a field. Yes, in a field next to the Tea Room.
(Unfortunately, Val and Chris could not stay.)
Sue Jinks
and her family were caravanning there for the weekend and she had invited us in
for afternoon tea and cakes. It was a
great end to the day, sitting in the field on a sunny, warm afternoon,
savouring delicious homemade cakes (recommend Sue’s fruit cake!) drinking tea,
and enjoying the wisecracks.
Thankyou,
Sue, Frank and Emma for your hospitality.
A perfect end to a perfect day’s cycling.
Loverly
Jubbly!!!
Before the ride to Witherley I
decided to try to find out, via the internet, more about a place marked on the
OS Map 140 as King Dick’s Hole. It can
be found about a mile and a half north of Atherstone/Witherley. Entering the name on a search engine brought
up some rather dubious websites as you might imagine. However there was an
article from the magazine of the Worcestershire Branch of the Richard III
Society concerning a visit to the area. From this I gleaned some quite
interesting information regarding the Battle of Bosworth and King Dick’s Hole
It appears there is some dispute about the
actual site of the Battle. The Crowland
Chronicle calls it the Battle of Merevale and Henry VII, the victor, later paid
compensation to the villages surrounding Atherstone for damage caused. Merevale
Hall is a Victorian Gothic building seen on the right as you descend the steep
hill from Baxterley to the A5. Within its grounds are the ruins of an old Abbey
where it is thought Henry and his troops spent the night before the battle. He
later paid compensation to the abbey for damage to crops and paid for a stained
glass window in the church of Our Lady, Merevale to commemorate his victory.
King Dick’s Hole or Hold is thought to be where Richard III
camped. It is just a dip in the ground near Hythe Farm and not particularly
interesting – a pity considering its name. The Battle would then have taken
place on the flat ground between the River Anker and the A5 several miles to
the west of where the site is marked today. Derby Spinney on the A444 near
Fenny Drayton is believed to be the place where Richard was killed and the
crown handed to Henry. No doubt those in charge of the Battlefield Site on
Ambion Hill have conflicting views on these suggestions.
The source for these speculations is a book by
Michael K. Jones, Bosworth 1485: Psychology of a Battle.
As we come to the end of another Club year, may
I thank all who have contributed over the last 12 months. Keep up the good
work. Your Editor