A poor start to the day as our
train eventually arrives a whole hour late in the cold and wet of a truly miserable Taunton station.
When we eventually arrive in Bath (by now an hour and a quarter behind schedule), it is raining even more heavily despite the Met offices promise of clear skies by lunchtime.
Of we go!
After around half a mile of increasingly soggy pedalling, Cath becomes the first casualty of the trip when she fails to see me stop and runs right into the back of me. Luckily, despite falling off and the bike landing on top of her, she only has a couple of minor bruises.
How did she manage this feat?
She admits that she wasn't looking where she was going because of some trouser related issue. DOH!
After a few miles we arrive at Claverton pumping station, a huge water wheel powered canal pump engineered as only the Victorians knew how - i.e. work out the correct engineering tolerances then double them for safety!
Leaving the comparitive warmth and dryness of the pump rooms, we continue on our damp (well, to be honest, bloody soaking) way towards Devizes.
Pretty miserable most of the rest of the journey with the usual human canal life in abundance (now I know where old hippies go to die)
By now it's 5:30 ish and Thrashers highly modified digestive tract is crying out for sustenance. The first hostelry we come upon is on the opposite side of the canal and inaccessible without a lengthy detour, as is the second, but the third is easily reached so we enter in search of edible comestibles. It's about this time that we notice that the bikes and indeed our persons are covered in shite.
No matter, we enter the pub and order food and drink. Just as we are settling down to wait for our food, I notice the manager dealing with the customers at the next table. He is strangely familiar - a face from the past.
'Howard?' I ask.
'Yes, who are you?'
'Ernie Clark', I answer.
'My God' says he, 'I haven't seen you for twenty years.'
It's true, when I first came to Somerset many years ago and joined my first rock band, Howard used to let us rehearse in his pub in Taunton and for a while even managed the band!
So, a pleasant and surprising end to a wet day.
You couldn't make this stuff up if you tried could you?
Current Pain Rating: 5
train eventually arrives a whole hour late in the cold and wet of a truly miserable Taunton station.
When we eventually arrive in Bath (by now an hour and a quarter behind schedule), it is raining even more heavily despite the Met offices promise of clear skies by lunchtime.
Of we go!
After around half a mile of increasingly soggy pedalling, Cath becomes the first casualty of the trip when she fails to see me stop and runs right into the back of me. Luckily, despite falling off and the bike landing on top of her, she only has a couple of minor bruises.
How did she manage this feat?
She admits that she wasn't looking where she was going because of some trouser related issue. DOH!
After a few miles we arrive at Claverton pumping station, a huge water wheel powered canal pump engineered as only the Victorians knew how - i.e. work out the correct engineering tolerances then double them for safety!
Leaving the comparitive warmth and dryness of the pump rooms, we continue on our damp (well, to be honest, bloody soaking) way towards Devizes.
Pretty miserable most of the rest of the journey with the usual human canal life in abundance (now I know where old hippies go to die)
By now it's 5:30 ish and Thrashers highly modified digestive tract is crying out for sustenance. The first hostelry we come upon is on the opposite side of the canal and inaccessible without a lengthy detour, as is the second, but the third is easily reached so we enter in search of edible comestibles. It's about this time that we notice that the bikes and indeed our persons are covered in shite.
No matter, we enter the pub and order food and drink. Just as we are settling down to wait for our food, I notice the manager dealing with the customers at the next table. He is strangely familiar - a face from the past.
'Howard?' I ask.
'Yes, who are you?'
'Ernie Clark', I answer.
'My God' says he, 'I haven't seen you for twenty years.'
It's true, when I first came to Somerset many years ago and joined my first rock band, Howard used to let us rehearse in his pub in Taunton and for a while even managed the band!
So, a pleasant and surprising end to a wet day.
You couldn't make this stuff up if you tried could you?
Current Pain Rating: 5
All that gear!
ReplyDeleteS says "...are they camping?"
Nah B&B I reckons.
Sez I
Yep, B&B it was.
ReplyDeleteLuggage was mainly elegant clothing and expensive cosmetics.