TheTheTheThe

Photos by Marion Nation or the builder working across

the square

1

Greetings from the EditorGreetings from the EditorGreetings from the EditorGreetings from the Editor

Hello fellow Harlequins.

It only seems a year ago when I was last putting

this together. Time does certainly fly by when

you are enjoying yourself and this year is no

exception. There are the usual up and downs (as

the art mistress said to the gardener) but I

hope everyone has come thro’ without too

many problems.

Our usual round of events and gatherings seem

to have gone off without too many hitches, due

mainly to - you’ve guessed it - people. People

who have made it their aim to give enjoyment

to others in so many ways and of course

people who have turned out to take part. Well

done everyone, the Harlequin spirit prevails.

Once again thank you contributors to this lofty

tome but, once again give them a hand folks

and put together a few words yourself, you

don’t know what you can do so give it a try. “I

don’t know what to write”, just jot down a few

notes or ideas and the team at magazine

headquarters will knock it into shape. Give it a

go!!

A new year beckons, another round of

“happenings” are about to take place and we are

all looking forward to a good time - aren’t we?

Sorry, did not hear you. OH YES WE ARE!

My best wishes to you all, have fun, be

good and make peace---you know it

makes sense.

Keep twiddling.

Derek

CHRISTMAS 2010

An annual magazine for members of the

HARLEQUI�S CYCLI�G CLUB

Club Chairman: Colin Seago

Club Treasurer: Larry Horton

Club Secretary: Terry Grey

Racing Secretary: Ken Knight

Club Social Secretaries: Marion Knight

Vice Presidents Den Goddard Stan Lawrence

Harlequinade Editor:

Derek Banting

Production: Ken Knight

Contact us at

harlequinscc@tiscali.co.uk

Cover Perhaps the last Audax

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Wheels of ChangeWheels of ChangeWheels of ChangeWheels of Change You know what your answer has to be when our Big Ed places his hand on your

shoulder and asks “You will be writing your usual magazine report won’t you?”

All over the Harlequin diaspora people are right now scribbling away to live up to

their promise.

So here’s mine----

2010.…what to say? On a personal cycling note, a bit of a disappointment, not

enough miles largely due to the weather. It was either cold and windy, wet and

windy or hot and windy, sometimes all together. On the nice days it was a

squeeze to fit in riding with all the other tasks requiring fine weather.

On the Club front 2010 has turned to

be a year on the cusp of change. The

January meet, Annual Dinner and

AGM all went in the usual way at

Foxlease, but with reduced numbers

this year. The chief items of change

were Ken’s expressed desire to make

this the last year of him running the

race side of the Old Buffoons,

hopefully with the Bath Road or the

Greenford taking over. Additionally a

motion to give up the May meet at

Foxlease was resolved by keeping the

booking for May 2010(it was already

confirmed) and trying an alternative

venue, initially at Coppleridge near

Shaftsbury.

Ken’s hack was once again a good event, with four HCC riders just finishing in

the time in spite of Marion’s picnic, but it was nice to meet and join up with the

rest of the Club at lunch. The whole weekend at Standlake is an enjoyable event,

long may it last.

The May meet was blessed with fine weather and, although with reduced

numbers, New Forest and Isle of Wight tours were enjoyed by those who rode.

Not strenuous but enough to lose Terry, or perhaps it was Rosemary and I who

muffed it.

I had mixed feelings about Coppleridge in July as I always enjoy Foxlease, but

I must admit being very pleasantly surprised and have no worries for

2011.After Copperidge a referendum produced a 2 to 1 majority

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for change and thus there will be no May Foxlease, but AGMs are for the

moment secure.

Our final event, the Buffoons, was blessed with fine, if windy weather, and

surprisingly, most people improved their times. The winner of our trophy was

Robert Bone with a very impressive ride on his new bike. Well done Rob.

The Buffoons also provided us with the third main change. All our wonderful

dinner ladies decided it was time to retire. They will be sorely missed. However,

I’m hopeful that enough of the younger lady members will slip into the breech,

and continue the tradition of really great meals, cakes etc., all of which have

become such an integral part of Buffoon Sunday. Thanks so much to all.

All in all the Club’s events have been so successful and well run as we have

come to expect. 2011 will bring some changes - and change is good.

Colin

Matters of the MomentMatters of the MomentMatters of the MomentMatters of the Moment The Club Dinner/AGM/mid-week

gathering will once again be at Foxlease in

the New Forest commencing Monday 24th

January 2011 (note the extra day if you

want it) with the Club Dinner on

Wednesday 26th with the AGM at 10am on

the 27th January. You are sure of a good

time with the usual good food. Bookings to

Colin (01725 510680) as soon as you are

able. Note, dinner will be given on both

Monday and Tuesday evenings.

The Audax will be on Sunday 10th April

2011 at the usual venue. On Saturday 9th

there will be dinner at The Red Lion

Northmoor as before. Book with Ken and Marion (01694 751270) for riders and

diners. Don’t miss this!

Provisional date for the Spring Tour at Coppleridge is 14 to16 June. This year’s

visit was deemed to be a great success so why not try it again?

The Old Buffoons is on 9th October with the Bath Road organising the time

trial and a new team in the kitchen, exciting---you bet!!

Watch out for news sheets about anything else that may arise. Ed.

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Things CyclingThings CyclingThings CyclingThings Cycling Ah well, my hopes for messrs. Wiggins and Cavendish in Le Tour were only half right for this year. Wiggo found the going a bit hard and did not come thro’ as hoped but there is always next year.

Cavendish was something else. Only 11 points adrift in the Tour points classification for 2nd place (could he have done more in the intermediate sprints?) Lost his lead out man in the Paris stage sprint but came from seemingly nowhere to take the victory, amazing.

He then proceeded to take the points race in the “Spanish Club Run” in some style, even headed the event for two days. Going well.

At home, “the Hutch” reduced the 10 record to 17 something, frightening.

In a review of riders and their bikes in the National 12 hour a certain Mark Arnold rode a steel framed bike and on a fixed gear of (get this) 106ins and managed 274 miles. Phew!

World’s time trials - Emma “pocket rocket” Pooley swept to victory in no uncertain fashion while David Miller came a great second in the men’s race. Well done indeed.

Round the world - Some people are gluttons for punishment. A Mr. Vin Cox has done the 18000 miles plus in 163 days 6 hours 58 mins. This has been ratified so if any of you are prepared to have a go, I will hold your coat!

It would appear that some other bod is having a go but on a light weight stripped bike with back up vehicles. Now whether this is in the true spirit of the event I do not know, perhaps he wants to set a separate type of record, who knows? Either way you have surely got to be slightly barmy to take this sort of thing on.

Now, going on in my usual manner about cycle paths, this is, or appears to be a cycle lane (same sort of thing) but at about 9 feet long is not that much good would you say. And there is no marking of any kind for about 300 yards to some lights.

To crown it all not 20 yards further

back is this double yellow line a magnificent 8 feet long on a corner. Ok for some idiot to park a Smart car on I suppose

but come on, let us have some sense here. Ed.

Club Dinner/AGMClub Dinner/AGMClub Dinner/AGMClub Dinner/AGM Creatures of habit we may be and

so once again the faithful gathered

at Foxlease for the annual feed up,

drink up and speak up event of

the year with 17 for the pre-event

dinner, 23 for the dinner proper

and 22 for the AGM all similar to

the year before.

Foxlease staff gave us the usual

warm welcome and food to their

unrivalled standard.

The Club dinner was up to it’s

ever high class affair. Keith

became the Club’s first “Strictly

not Dancing Champion” to the

amazement of everyone including

himself and the judges. “Seven”

they all cried, a worthy winner.

A presentation of a painted plate was made to Marion and Ken for all the hard

work they have done for the Club over the years. Very worthy recipients.

The AGM, that

maybe stilted but

necessary yearly

occasion was the

business of the

morning. Reports

given and accepted

with news of

another good year

from the Treasurer.

Following the very

welcome buffet

lunch we all wended

our way home after

a most

enjoyable

few days.

Ed.

5

It’s Audax time AgainIt’s Audax time AgainIt’s Audax time AgainIt’s Audax time Again

With starters down a bit on last year it was still a good turnout and so off they

went again for a

spin in the

countryside. What

better way to

spend the day?

Our manning of

the Uffington

control proved,

once again, to be

worthwhile. The

cakes were high

on the approved

list.

It is, of course,

not just the

Audax but a social

weekend as well.

More people staying

at a local campsite

taking dinner at the

camp’s restaurant

on the Friday and

then the usual

gathering on the

Saturday evening at

the Red Lion at

Northmoor, 19 to

be precise.

Along with the

refreshments at

headquarters the

ladies once again came up trumps with an excellent buffet. All good stuff.

With the favourable weather, most riders got round in a reasonable

fashion and it would appear that many will be back again. See you

there in 2011?, We certainly hope so. Ed.

6

One Monday evening in the spring of 1930 I was preparing to set out on a cycling trip. My bicycle stood all polished and oiled, and I was packing my saddle bag. Into this very small bag must go everything I would need to wear and use for two weeks, clothing, a cotton sleeping sheet, knife fork spoon plate and mug, tin opener, matches, food for 24 hours, my maps, my money (all of £5) and my oilskin cape and Brownie box camera strapped on the outside. This done, I went to bed early, and hardly had I fallen asleep than my mother wakened me. I ate a good breakfast with my mother standing over me, and at 2 am set off in the chill darkness.

I rode in silence with only the light from my cycle to keep me company, and had plenty of time to wonder if I was quite sane to be doing such a thing at that hour. But soon the sky became light and I could see the trees and hedgerows outlined. I was travelling with my back to the east, and as colour began to tinge the sky, I stopped for a moment to look back at the sunrise. A few birds began to sing, a few bedroom windows began to light up and chimneys gave off a sweet wood smoke scent as fires were kindled. Occasionally I caught a fleeting whiff of bacon cooking. Traffic on the road was very sparse, an occasional cyclist going early to work, and now and again a car with its headlights seemed to fill the world for a moment as it flashed past. I felt complete freedom and independence. Speed seems absolute on a bicycle. It is so silent, and one is in close contact with the surroundings as they slip past.

I was to travel on for about 14 hours that day. My home was in Kent - not far from

Canterbury and the road I was on would take me to Winchester, a distance of 110 miles, passing roughly along the route that the pilgrims travelled in mediaeval times.

At about 10 o'clock I reached the Hog's Back - a cruel hill that looks to be such a gentle incline but which in fact climbs quite viciously and goes on and on. It even seems as if the summit is retreating ahead of you and the whole of the world seemed to lie spread out below and away beyond sight. There I stopped and ate my sandwiches and gazed at the view as I had done many times before, and once more I felt I could never take it in sufficiently. My tiredness fled, and by mid afternoon I was spinning down the last hill passing the milestone that said

“Winchester 1 mile Winchester 1 mile Winchester 1 mile Winchester 1 mile ““““

My destination in Winchester was an old watermill built spanning the River Itchen. It no longer worked as a mill and was used as a youth hostel. I put my bicycle away in the shed, presented myself to the warden, paid my dues, made up my bed with my own sleeping bag and three youth hostel blankets - heavy in weight and dark in colour. Then went for a much needed wash. The only facilities provided were a bucket on a rope for hauling water out of the mill stream, an enamelled bowl and a wooden bench. The water was soft as silk but cold as ice. Washing here in summer was more painful than pleasant, in winter it was an agony, not to be contemplated more than once a week at most.

The next essential was to cook something

to eat, The kitchen was as primitive as

the wash place. It offered a row of oil

stoves and a sink and a tap. It was

wise to get to the kitchen

Shrove Tuesday

The story of a ride in familiar territory

continues on page 20

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Eighteen of us met up at Foxlease on

the 4th. May for our annual Spring

tour, numbers slightly down on

previous years. As usual the

company, food and service were of a

very high order, with Maureen and

her girls looking after us

superbly.

The weather was kind

to the five cyclists

who had a leisurely

tour of the New

Forest, with the

obligatory morning

coffee break in

Lymington - did you

know that T.E.

Lawrence ( Lawrence

of Arabia for the

unread) once lived in

Lymington. I know

cos I saw the Plaque.

We lunched at Lepe at

the cafe on the beach,

where we were joined

by Anne and Keith.

There is some

interesting

information on the

second world war on

display for those

interested.

After lunch we

headed for

Brockenhurst for

afternoon tea at the

Teddy Bear café - not

its real name but known to us by this

title. The following day was our

annual trip to the Isle of Wight. The

cyclists piled themselves into and

onto Ken and Marion's car and made

their way to Lymington ferry, where

the pedestrian members (well free bus

pass users actually) joined us.

Foxlease Foxlease Foxlease Foxlease ----

The Spring TourThe Spring TourThe Spring TourThe Spring Tour

8

After communal coffee on the ferry,

we set off on a fairly familiar route

and with his usual navigational skill,

Colin guided us to one of our

favourite watering holes--the New Inn

at Shalfleet, where the food is

exceptionally good.

We all ate too much and Marion felt

she would like a shorter ride than

planned so she and Ken left for a

direct route to Yarmouth. Colin,

Rosemary and I decided to keep to

the original route along the hilly coast

road to Freshwater and then across to

Yarmouth.

As we all know, Colin and Rosemary

are the Club's answer to Fausto Coppi

and Eileen Sheridan and they were

soon leaving me on the hills. We

agreed that they carried on at their

pace and would wait for me at

Freshwater Bay at the Yarmouth road

junction. Off they went and soon

disappeared from view, but at a

slightly slower pace, and lower gear, I

made good progress and enjoyed the

ride. When I reached the junction -

not a sign of them. After a short wait

I concluded that they had proceeded

to Yarmouth and carried on. After

about half an hour I reached the ferry

terminal where I met up with Ken and

Marion. Again no sign of Colin and

Rosemary and about 45 minutes later

Ken received a call on his mobile

from Colin saying " I'm afraid we have

lost Terry" Ken's reply that "I'm

afraid we've found him " was a little

out of order, but Colin and Rosemary

finally arrived some 30 minutes later.

They apparently overshot the

junction but noticed a convenient

convenience, so stopped to satisfy

their needs, apparently thinking that I

would be walking the steepest hill and

that they had plenty of time. Oh ye

of little faith!! I also asked a local

cyclist in Freshwater for the best

route to Yarmouth and he directed

me through a housing estate that

saved me a few miles.

Anyway, it was a good day followed

by a great evening meal to round off

our trip

Sadly, this is our last Spring visit to

Foxlease, at least for a while, and we

will meet at Coppleridge in July for a

summer tour instead. However, I

expect us all to be at Foxlease at the

end of January for the AGM--don't

forget that we can have an extra day.

Please advise Fausto--sorry-Colin

of your accommodation

requirements. Terry

exceptionally good!

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The 51st Old Buffoons The 51st Old Buffoons The 51st Old Buffoons The 51st Old Buffoons Not since David challenged Goliath or,

more apposite, since I went training with Phil Guy (Manchester Wheelers BBAR

winning team member and rather good at ‘100s’) has there been such a disparity

of abilities on the same road at the same time.

Stuart Jackson tore past the

‘10’ mark in 24:48 completing

the lap in 26:39 putting just 7

seconds into Colin

Williamson with our own Bill

Bentley a further minute

back. These athletes were

followed at ever greater time

gaps by a rag bag of old

geysers, immature youngsters

and one not immature lady

all of whom could of course

have easily beaten me had I

been foolish enough to enter.

Praise in buckets for Robert

Bone for turning out in a

magnificent retro Harlequins

jersey from the late 50s.

( and he also won the event,

nearly forgot that.) Colin was

delighted to beat his personal

trainer and his time of last

year. Brian was delighted to

beat his grandson and his

time of last year. Stan would

have been delighted to beat

anything.

The handicapping was as

usual stunning. Save that is for the Rhodes (father and son) who stood out as

anomalies in a way that only the Greenford could.

Most importantly of all Chris Morris put in a powerful performance to take his

club’s trophy, the ever useful stainless steel po. It’s important because Chris, one

time Harlequin, long time Bath Road and never in any way associated with

the Greenford, will be organiser of future Buffoon’s ‘10s’. Good luck

mate, it’s not much of an act to follow, you’ll be OK. KK

‘10’ Lap H’cap

Harlequins

Robert Bone 31.14 33.39 20.24

Bill Bentley 25:49 27:46 25:16

Brian Wright 32:38 35:10 25.55

Colin Seago 32.07 34:30 26:30

Julia Baker-Beale 33:17 35:40 29:40

Stan Dackombe 41:49 44:50 30:05

David Haworth 34:01 36:35 31:35

Greenford

Clive Rhodes 25:13 27:05 22:05

Colin Williamson 24:54 26:46 26:31

Jim Williams 29:33 31:50 26:35

Phil Williamson (run) 91:00 26:45

David Rhodes 35:33 38:15 28:30

Terry Williamson 39:27 42:25 37:25

Bath Road

Chris Morris 25:40 28:10 25:25

Dave Devine 26:37 28:40 25:55

Colin Mann 29:15 31:31 26:16

Stuart Jackson 24:48 26:39 26:39

Tom Moore 33:55 36:34 28:04

Bill Cox (run) 91:00 31:45

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Lunching with the Old Lunching with the Old Lunching with the Old Lunching with the Old

BuffoonsBuffoonsBuffoonsBuffoons This, for the large proportion of us,

is the easy bit. Just gather, chat ,

have a slurp or two of the old vino

collapso, eat our way thro’ an

excellent lunch, win a prize or two in

the raffle and chill, all contented like.

I said the large proportion. There are

of course the ladies in the kitchen

who have not only done a great deal

of preparation before hand but

worked like mad to get the lunch

together by the allotted time. This

particular group are however passing

on this task to a new team for 2011.

So well done Thelma, Jan, June,

Molly and Heather, you now deserve

a break, so it’s been there, done that,

thank you and goodbye.

Thanks also to the

table shifters and

dressers, raffle prize

givers and anyone else

who contributed in

whatever way.

Thanks are also due to

the reason we were all

there, the Old

Buffoons --- the Event.

Ken was his usual self

apart from the fact

that he and Marion

were delayed on the

way cutting it all a bit

fine but he managed,

as always.

Thanks also to the

marshals and of course the

timekeepers, Keith, Kay and Ann, an

onerous task if ever there was one!

Young Robert Bone was all smiles as

he stepped up to collect the trophy.

He was even smiling when he wizzed

by us out at Haddenham. Posh jersey

as well.

We managed to take a few bob on

the raffle as well so helping out the

finances for next year.

Talking of next year, just to confirm

that the race will be run by the Bath

Road Club and good luck to them.

Lunch, in all it’s glory will be

prepared and served by a new team

who I am sure will carry on the

traditions as before.

So, once again, a great day, great fun

and I am sure 2011 will be just

as successful.

Ed.

Robert on his way to victory Robert on his way to victory Robert on his way to victory Robert on his way to victory photo Bob Mahoney

11

12

Most of us, Brian and Kay ,Don and Heather, Ken and Marion,Colin and Rosemary, Anne, Janneke and myself met up for lunch on the Tuesday at the Salt Cellar, a delightful and popular [a long wait for food when you're hungry] cafe/restaurant in Shaftesbury, overlooking Gold Hill of Hovis advert fame. When there's food involved, sitting on damp outside tables was not considered a problem to us hardy outdoor types

After a short wander around the town we made our way, some riding, others driving, to Coppleridge and were joined by Den and Thelma. We knew about the tennis courts in the gounds so Janneke, Kay, Brian and myself had a couple of games to work up a thirst and appetite before dinner. What was also convenient was a vacant lounge/games room separate from the main bar area, where we could sit and chat over pre-dinner drinks and listen to Brian's really funny jokes [fortunately dinner was

served soon after]. The three course menu was reasonable

and more than adequate which is saying something for us Harlequins [even

Colin had enough], so much so that all we wanted to do afterwards was to take a leisurely stroll back to our rooms and retire for the night

The following day we split up and did our separate things. Everybody, except Anne, Janneke, Kay and myself either cycled or drove to Montacute House, a National Trust property just east of Yeovil . As usual Colin's estimate of the mileage ridden turned out to be rather optomistic. It was there that Heather had the unusual experience of a kestral landing on her rucksack. Don, ignoring the possibility of her being eaten alive, decided to photograph the event.

The walkers, Anne, Janneke, Kay and myself took a short drive over to near Stourhead, visiting King Alfreds Tower, a 50metre high brick folly constucted about 240 years ago to commemorate the end of the Seven Years War against France and supposedly near where Alfred the Great rallied the Saxons in May 878 before the Battle of Ethandun against the Danes. [too much information I hear you say. Well, if you want people to write articles for the magazine.....] However, Alfred must have gone out on his bike that morning because the place was closed and we were unable to climb the 205 steps to the top. We then took walk of a few miles to Stourhead House for lunch. It was on this walk that we were met by a squadron of horse

The Coppleridge MeetThe Coppleridge MeetThe Coppleridge MeetThe Coppleridge Meet

13

flies. Judging by the size of bites that resulted they must have been closely related to the giant killer mosquitoes encountered in Ghent a few years ago. You will be relieved to hear that the swelling is gradually easing As we all know, we don't turn back or retrace our steps so with our unfailing sense of direction we set off back to the car. Well, in densely wooded areas with footpaths winding left and right, not to mention up and down the impossible happened.

It's always a problem convincing others that we are going in the right direction but I must admit that over the years I've had a bit of practice in that situation. However we eventually stumbled upon a road and stopped a car to ask directions back to Alfreds Tower car park. "Just up the hill a bit" we were told. You could tell he was a motorist as opposed to a walker because it was some hill and of course ot started to rain, not just a shower but a proper downpour, eventually arriving back at the car with the poor girls absolutely drenched and worn out. I did suggest that they took off their wet clothes to dry out but didn't seem too keen.

On the Thursday Den and Thelma went off to the Haynes Motor Museum and visited relatives near Castle Cary before driving home . Similarly Don and Heather set off for home that day stopping en route at another National Trust property, Great Chalfield Manor near Melksham. Brian and I enjoyed our game of tennis so much the first day that we decided to have another one before breakfast. Through no fault of mine there was total confusion

regarding the time of the game, resulting in my having to get out of bed, rush over to the court in my pyjamas and be expected to perform to my usual level, despite the pouring rain and gale force winds. My failing memory prevents me from remembering the outcome but Brian knows that I'm looking forward to our next game. After Don and Heather and Den and Thelma left after breakfast, Anne, Janneke and I met up with the others at an organic farm in Gold Hill. Despite the pleasant welcome we received from the owners their vegetables looked as bug-eaten as mine. Fortunately they also had a cafe attached to the garden centre with home-made food [I should have had the pizza] Janneke, who had flown over to us the previous week had booked her return flight from Gatwick that evening, so after lunch we said our goodbyes and left. What was appreciated by her was how pleased everyone was to see her again. The die-hards, Colin, Rosemary, Ken, Marion, Brian and Kay ,who all stayed on for the Thursday night, were eventually thrown out the following morning and, after a short visit to the Abbey Gardens on the outskirts of Shaftesbury, went their separate ways. I was happy with Coppleridge and would be prepared to return, a view shared by the majority of us, confirmed by Colin's survey. I believe the one negative issue with that venue might be the accommodation for the caravans but I stand to be corrected on that point. The most important thing, though, is that we continue to meet up with each other irrespective of where. KW

Today we rode the Camel trail, dodging wobbling holidaymakers on hired bikes. Starting at Poley Bridge the 18

mile converted rail track runs in deep cuttings through wooded hills alongside the Camel river. It is narrow at first (scarcely two abreast) and views are limited by the trees. Nevertheless the bubbling and ever growing Camel provided pleasant parts in which to linger a while.

Below Wadebridge and for the last 5 miles the trail opens out to reveal splendid estuary views towards Padstow and the fiefdom of Rick Stein. ‘Padstein’ as they quip, is a sweet little fishing port that has been transformed into a fishy goldmine by Rick’s posh and expensive restaurants and not so posh but still expensive fish & chip shop. We conserved our funds and ate pasties on the harbour wall whilst watching a party of school children, close packed along the slipway, dipping for crabs.

The Trail Society has made a huge commercial success not least in spawning numerous bike hire businesses. We saw at least 500 hire bikes out on an off-season Thursday and at £10 upwards for a day’s hire that is good pickings.

One enterprise not to be missed is Treats on Trikes. This young lady pedals down the trail offering tea and cakes from her tricycle kitchen. Whether she is making a nice living or is just plain crazy we never established but we did have a nice cup of Earl Grey.

Tonight it is Scallops Newburg

followed by Myrtle’s Turbot the latter

being a recipe from one of Rick’s books. I like a bit of cooking and am never

happier than when beating egg yokes into double cream to pour over

sweet seafood flamed in fine brandy. In the small and unfamiliar

kitchen with limited facilities to devote to the fiendish complexity of

the Newburg sauce Myrtle’s simple method of serving the turbot

Treats on trikes Treats on trikes Treats on trikes Treats on trikes

Haute cuisine and grand larcenyHaute cuisine and grand larcenyHaute cuisine and grand larcenyHaute cuisine and grand larceny

Scraps from a In September Ken & Marion, Rosemary, Brian & Kay spent a few days in a cottage in Port Isaac

14

will provide a practical balance as well as a satisfactory contrast of textures and flavours.

We were attracted to this spot partly by the fish merchant who trades on the slipway. On this occasion he provided both the scallops and a decent sized turbot for hardly more than a king’s ransom. The turbot recipe does however demand some fresh herbs a little beyond the range of the local Coop.

Yesterday we cadged some mint from a local gardener but it seems a bit much to go back and demand parsley, bay leaves and chives. So we set off to scour the narrow streets and passages tightly packed with cottages that do not lend themselves to much in the way of gardens. We had some difficulty in locating our quarry. A bay tree was found but I couldn’t reach the leaves from the path. Besides the cottage window was open and I feared being apprehended. An ample parcel of parsley intended for a local restaurant proved accessible and before long a more favourably sited bay tree was found. The chives eluded us but we thought we might nick them from the vegetable garden a nearby NT property which we are to visit this afternoon. (Oh come on … we’ve paid our NT subscription for years and hardly if ever recovered it from admission charges.) The fish was delicious.

For those who need to know

grand larceny is the theft of goods to the value of more than one shilling - like herbs. Today my just deserts have turned out to be well and truly grand. Our car hit a loose rock on the road that destroyed a near new tyre which took us three miserable hours and £92 to replace. Does He not move in mysterious ways? KK

Just des(s)erts Just des(s)erts Just des(s)erts Just des(s)erts

Myrtle’s TurbotMyrtle’s TurbotMyrtle’s TurbotMyrtle’s Turbot

The view from our kitchen windowThe view from our kitchen windowThe view from our kitchen windowThe view from our kitchen window

Cornish kitchen

15

16

CYCLISTS UNITEDCYCLISTS UNITEDCYCLISTS UNITEDCYCLISTS UNITED Riding round my little patch of Dorset I

tend to see the same solitary cyclists

quite a bit. One such person is an

elderly man always in a rust colored

sweatshirt and his trousers tucked into

cycle clips. He wears cycling shoes but

never a helmet but you can tell by the

way he rides his bike that he has been

riding for years. I asked a cycling friend

if she knew him, and she said he is a

stalwart member of her Club,

Bournemouth Arrows, and is always

there on their training evenings at an

old track in Poole or evening 10s

encouraging the youngsters from the

sidelines.

Another old man I see (why do I only

meet old men?) rides an old ‘sit and up

and beg’ bike and always wears a day-

glow jacket. I see him just about every

time I go out and he always has a smile

on his face and gives a friendly wave.

The other week I was told by our

daughter that she had seen him at the

side of the road with a group of people

being helped into an ambulance. I didn’t

see him for quite a few weeks after that,

then just a couple of weeks ago I saw

him again, same smile, same wave, same

day glow jacket, but new bike! It quite

made my day.

One day, having stopped for a cup of

tea and piece of cake at Cranborne

Garden Centre, (I had cycled all of 5

miles to get there) I got talking

to some local CTC people.

Very friendly and chatty.

It turned out I was talking

to Fred and Jean Burrell

who knew Reg from years ago and Fred

was 24 Hour National Champion at one

time, and Reg has told me since that

Jean herself had been a fast lady over

50 and 100 miles. Sitting talking to

these two very fit and friendly people, it

struck me how unassuming they were of

their past achievements.

Of course, not everybody you meet on

a bike is someone you can get on with.

There was the time when Colin and I

were just getting back on our bikes

after a tea-break in Devon, when a lone

cyclist stopped to talk. He insisted we

ride with him as we were on his patch

and he knew the best route. He was

very chatty but somehow odd and we

wondered how we could get rid of him.

We had already picked out a short cut

17

on the map but he was horrified

saying our lightweight bikes would

be ruined on such a rough track,

and he certainly wouldn‘t take his

bike down it. This was enough for us

to give it a go. He was right, our

bikes were no match for the boulder

strewn sticky mud, but we carried

on, carrying our bikes more than

riding them, rather than go back in

case he was patiently waiting for us!

Another time on a trip to Norfolk

we got talking to a delightful elderly

lady who told us about a cycle ride

she made in the War. She had been

nursing in London and had seen

some terrible injuries from the

bombing raids. She had been signed

off sick for a month to get over all

she had seen and had to deal with,

and all she wanted to do was get out

of London. She decided to cycle to

Lands End, all on her own, on an old

bike and hardly any money. She

slept in barns and the occasional

farmhouse, but how she found her

way without signposts I don’t know.

Much as I enjoy cycling through the

lanes near me, there is no doubting

that the traffic is getting a lot

heavier. I am thinking of buying an

off road bike to use through the

Forestry Commission land on our

doorstep. I see quite a few people on

bikes when I am out walking the

dogs through the forest, and you

never know, I might even meet a

youngyoungyoungyoung person to talk to! Rosemary

Old Buffoons Alphabet

A for arthritis.

B the bad back.

C are the chest pains, perhaps cardiac.

D is for dental decay and decline.

E is for eyesight, can’t read the top line.

F is for fissures and fluid retention.

G stands for gas which I’d rather not mention.

H is high blood pressure (I’d rather it low)

I for incisions with scars you can show.

J is for joints worn out and won’t bend.

K is for knees that crack when you bend.

L for libido, what happened to sex.

M is for memory, I forget what comes next.

N for neuralgia, in nerves down below.

O is for osteo, does it work? I don’t know.

P for prescription, there are quite a few.

Q is for queasy, is it fatal or flue?

R is for reflux, one meal turns to two.

S is for sleep loss, counting my fears.

T is for tinnitus, bells in my ears.

U is for urinary troubles with flow.

V stands for vertigo, that’s dizzy you know.

W we worry whats going around.

X is for x-ray and what be found.

Y for another year-further behind, and

Z is for zest, it’s still in my mind!

BW

18

A Lakeland JourneyA Lakeland JourneyA Lakeland JourneyA Lakeland Journey

No it’s not a visit to the well known

town centre kitchen shop but a

journey oop north to visit an area we

have never been before.

So off we trundled, caravan in tow, up

the A1 stopping overnight at Newark

on a very smart site which, would you

believe, was home to about ten guinea

pigs happily housed beneath a shed.

Strange.

Up bright and early, back on the road

continuing north to Scotch Corner,

smartly left onto the A66. Blue sky,

fluffy white clouds, what a road to be

on. Some dual-carriage way but just

so picturesque throughout. Winter

could be interesting however, the

reason for the red and white poles

about 9 feet high at regular intervals

giving people an idea of where the

road might be in the snow.

Brough, Penrith (shades of the End to

End) and on to Keswick, home to a

pencil factory!! We do see life us two.

South down Derwentwater over a very

narrow bridge up the west side on an

equally narrow road to our home for

six nights at Low Manesty.

In among the trees we did have a view

thro’ to the water. Busy site, full of

intrepid walkers, all rucksacks, big

boots and walking poles. Tales of

walking 8 or 10 hours up and over

the fells (technical term that)

nourished by Kendal Mint

cake (revolting stuff) and

flasks of stewed tea. Not a gin and

tonic in sight.

Us, we drove and walked a bit. Picnic

and pub lunches. The weather? Not

bad actually some rain, some mizzle

we even saw the sun, all in all pretty

good.

In the time we were there we

managed to go round, go near or

19

over some five passes, steepest gradient

28%. Although passenger, June’s brake

foot was working overtime. The

Wrynose and the Hardknott passes are

not for the fainthearted but a challenge

just the same.

One rainy day we set off for

Cockermouth, home of William

Wordsworth you know, I wandered lonely as a cloud but blow it, down to

the pub for a pint sort

of Wordsworth and, of

course, the scene of the

terrible flooding earlier.

The town is still suffering

from the effects of this

disaster, quite a bit has

been refurbished but

many houses empty, dark

and dank. A lot of work

still needs to be done, we

were told that some

insurance companies had

settled, others where still

in discussion. It would

appear that many

residents have tried to re-

insure but only after

agreeing to a £ 20,000

excess.

All that besides, the

whole area is a joy to

visit, wonderful views,

great people and so much

to see, we must go again.

Time up, off we went to

pay a visit to our

daughter and son-in-law

at their B and B in Blackpool. We stayed

in a small site out in the country but

how different it all was. All Kiss-me-

Quick hats and candy floss. Vive la

difference.

So after some family time it was off

back home after quite an adventurous

break with sights and places not

to be forgotten.

Derek

Life is too Short to Dance with Ugly WomenLife is too Short to Dance with Ugly WomenLife is too Short to Dance with Ugly WomenLife is too Short to Dance with Ugly Women (A selection of one-liners for people of a certain age)

Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese. Satchel Paige

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were. Satchel Paige

Thirty is a nice age for a woman, especially if she happens to be forty. Phyllis Diller

I’m 52 years of age now but if prefer to think of myself as 11 centigrade. Tom Lehrer

Birthdays are good for you. The people who have most live the longest. Larry Lorenzoni

You know you are getting older if you have more fingers than real teeth. Rodney Dangerfield

You know you are getting older when you open the fridge door and can’t remember if

you are putting something in or taking something out. Lottie Robson

I’m so old that when I order a 3 minute egg they ask for the money up front. Milton Burle

I’ve just become a pensioner so I am saving up for my own hospital trolley. Tom Baker

He’s on the mend, sitting up in bed blowing the froth off his medicine. Flann O’Brien

I took a physical for some health insurance. All I got was fire and theft. Milton Berle

When I was young there were no paedophiles, we had to buy our own sweets Anon

early, and ignoring all thoughts of Christian charity to select the best pan and an oil stove that worked. It was no occasion for anything but the simplest of menus - a packet of soup made up and heated followed by fried sausages or bacon, beans and tomatoes and finished with a slice of cake and fruit. The kitchen soon filled with other folk, their efforts ranged from the supremely competent to the abysmally inadequate. Some stoves smoked, some eggs got burned, some soup boiled over, and some pans caught fire but in spite of all this the air in the kitchen was always as fresh as that out on the open moors, for a strong draught, cool and fresh from the mill stream beneath came up though the floor boards.

Now at last, I come to the point of my story. That day a very competent looking lad came into the kitchen. He cooked

his main course and ate it - then he produced a wine bottle, a lemon, a jar of sugar and some lard. Taking a clean pan. he melted a little fat in it shook his wine bottle vigorously, poured a small quantity of the contents into the pan - and behold - a pancake! He turned it carefully with a knife - then put it onto a plate - sprinkled it with sugar and lemon juice - and repeated the operation again and again till his bottle was empty and about a dozen pancakes were piled on the plate. Then he sat down and ate them! You see it was Shrove Tuesday - and I shall remember him and his bottle of batter every Shrove Tuesday of my life. Margery Leese

In 1930 Margery would have been 21 years old. She cycled this route many times, on her way from home to Bristol, where she did her teacher training.

continued from page 7

20

Join us at the World Track

Championships in Apeldoorn

23rd - 27th March 2011 The Harlequins are going to Worlds - details from

Brian - don’t delay, booking before the year end is

essential.

Contact us at

harlequinscc@tiscali.co.uk