Clearly our little flock was far more disciplined and together today, all nine of us on an official Axbridge Cycling Group murmuration across the Somerset levels. Who knows, once our fame has spread to Springwatch, perhaps even Jon Craven and hordes of twittering twitchers may tramp the muddy lanes hoping to gain sight of us as we swing this way and that from cafe to cafe.
And none of us fell off or hit the ground today, Skip, me, Military Nurse, King of the Hill, Figgy, their friend (to be named), Doc and his two domestiques, Axbridge's answer to the Schlecks. And we formed a good group as we headed first out into the wind before swinging south east across to our destination at Fenny Castle.
We had a plan, a very good and together one too, devised by me. The flaw was my wildly over-optimistic faith in the information on the Internet, Fenny Castle cafe virtually said they were open, but in reality we were greeted with a closed gate, and some shuffling of wheels, and flocking back to Sweets.
As the only cafe open by the looks of it, all the little birds were there, necessitating some roosting outside in the colder than expected westerly wind. I felt like one of those birds you see all puffed up, huddling outside in the cold, while the Doc, and his two sons, Frank and Andy, basked in the warmth of the inside.
On the way home it seemed to fall apart, after waiting for the Doc to fix his puncture, Skip was doing her best to flee the nest, and I struggled up Mudgley Hill, before taking my place as her loyal wing-person. By the time we got back to Cheddar we seemed to have lost half the group and by Axbridge it was just us. Doc and the boys came home to roost just afterwards, as I limped up home on a wing and a prayer.
I also learnt that the knee is fine as long as I unclip with my heel going anti-clockwise, and pedalling is fine. Let's hope it heals by itself, or I will really have to learn to fly.
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