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Forest Row Bike Club



Ride Report


Sevenoaks perhaps: 25 March

I creaked out of my bed feeling as old as Ron, and winced as I yawned, remembering that the clocks had gone forward during the night. Lost an hour’s sleep. Quick cup of coffee and into the car. I’d had a tumble off my bike during the week, and feeling the worse for wear, decided that my old mates in Forest Row would all rally round and give me huge amounts of sympathy. Huh! Wrong!

Ron was already there, and we watched Gordon lift his bike out of his car before his wife (I presume), drove the car away. We told him that the ride today was cancelled, and his face was a picture as he realised that his lift back home had just departed. Only joking, Gordon. He’s had a bit of a worrying few days, because he’s developed ‘floaters’ in one eye, and it may be caused by a detached retina, requiring some laser treatment. Good luck, Gordon. And he was still out on his bike.

When I shook Ron’s hand, I could see him gritting his teeth in pain. At first I thought that it was because I’d gripped his hand so hard. All men do that, its so the other bloke doesn’t think you’re a wimp. Pathetic isn’t it ladies? As it turned out, Ron’s grimace was because he’d had a fall on his front door step the day before, and one of his fingers was swollen and purple. I thought someone had been trying to get his wallet out of his hand. Get well soon Ron. And he was still out on his bike.

Tony rode up all full of smiles, although on Thursday he had not stopped his bike, while Martha, just in front of him, had stopped hers. Not a good combination. Tony had come off and injured one of his fingers. He explained that he had had to tape the injured one to its neighbour as a sort of splint. However, in order to get his glove on he had removed the tape for the day. Get well soon Tony. And he was still out on his bike.

I began to feel more and more of a basket case. Better say hallo to Kate and Jane as soon as possible, and wring out as much sympathy as I can before its too late. They were lovely to me, and I milked it for all I was worth. Then Steve ruined it all by asking to see my doctor’s certificate and a note from my mum excusing me from the ride. Martin took the rise relentlessly. Brian tried to hide his giggles.

As Don arrived, I immediately latched on to him to tell him all about how terminally ill I was and how it all happened. He looked at his watch and said they’d all have to leave now. He’d hear about it from the others later. So as they all pedalled off towards Wall Hill Road laughing amongst themselves, I meekly stood alone and watched them go before climbing back in my car. As I drove past the end of the hill a few moments later, I saw them halfway up as a gap opened in the clouds and bathed them in sunshine. Halfway home, I saw Zoë coming the other way to meet the group. I tried to attract her attention to tell her all about me, me, me, but she was intent on the ride up to Ashurst Wood and ignored me.

And so it is that I am breaking a record. At the time of writing today’s club ride report i) I’m not even on the ride, and ii) the ride’s not  even finished yet. I bet they’re all sitting in the café now. And they’d better not be laughing. 




If you took part in a ride, why not write a report?  The more florid the language, the more inflated the hyperbole, the more tumescent the innuendo, the greater your chance of winning the FRBC Prize for Original Plagiarism.


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