Welcome to the forum

Sunday 09.30

Ahoy
Forecast dry and a reasonable day
Easterly wind so barrington or duxford
35 to 40 miles, 15 to 16 mph
Captain back on dry land, see if legs can handle it
CP

Comments

  • Forecast a few old hands
    Hoist the main sail
    CP
  • FDFD
    edited October 2016
    Yo Ho drunkards

    Should be out tomorrow.

    No grog in October for FD or the Flying Dutchwoman.

    Lost nearly 2 stone between us in 3 weeks. Might have lost the anchor but feeling terrible & riding like a bag of spanners. Bird seed no substitute for the fuel of champions.

    Fading Dutchman
  • Yo ho shipmates

    Decided on a solo ride from home port, given weakened & parched state recently. Definitely not shipshape.

    Hitchin Chesfield Halls Green Walkern Watton Datchworth Nup End Whitwell Offley Preston Charlton Hitchin. 35 miles @ a leisurely 15mph.

    Steady fat-burning ride in the glorious sunshine with a few hills thrown in.

    Famished Dutchman
  • Glorious sunny ride once the mist cleared
    The " gunner ride" no shows but still a good crew
    Duxford, chapel hill, wimpole
    40 miles at 16.4 mph, last ride on the summer bike
    Lots of chocolate hob nobs as FD not there, yum yum
    Bullet attempted to get the last sprint of the year .....
    Oh well next year then
    Clocks change next weekend, official winter mode
    Winter bikes and winter pace
    See you then
    CP
  • Marooned on a dry desert island for a month
    Only bird seed to be found
    Rescue in a bottle due end of the month
    Will the dry sun beating down make Robinson crack ?
    Self flagellation good for the soul
    And the waist line
    The taste of November in the dry breeze
    Drink on courage and endeavour
    Times will change soon,
    And what will be your worth ?

    Keep going
    CP

  • FDFD
    edited October 2016
    Yo ho imbibers

    Water, water, every where,
    And all the boards did shrink;
    Water, water, every where,
    Nor any drop to drink.

    And every tongue, through utter drought,
    Was withered at the root;
    We could not speak, no more than if
    We had been choked with soot.

    There passed a weary time. Each throat
    Was parched, and glazed each eye.
    A weary time! a weary time!
    How glazed each weary eye,

    With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
    We could nor laugh nor wail;
    Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
    I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
    And cried, A sail! a sail!

    8 more days to go before we indulge with grape, grain and hop. Plenty of time to regain form for birthday drinks in Belgium.

    Meanwhile 13 llbs lost for me and £320 raised so far for Macmillan.

    The Ancient Mariner
Sign In or Register to comment.