I was out with my camera shortly after the day of this ride, sitting in a bar and setting out on paper the following story. When it was written I folded the papers and stuffed them into a pocket of the bag. I came across them a few days ago and wondered whether it was too late now to include it with all the other dubious stories.

Or have you been punished enough already? Anyway, here goes.

Tuesday evening 12th November and the 'phone rang.

"Hi Bob, Trevor here, just checking if you will be on the ride tomorrow, I need to know how many are coming because it'll only be a short, quick run of about 30 miles and back to my place for lunch." Now I trust Trevor implicitly and this means that I often revisit conversations which seemed at the time innocent - and then ponder.

And later on that evening I did indeed ponder. What's all this about lunch then? You see the last time that something similar happened we had to move a shed for him. Questions seeped into my mind, Was he no longer happy with the position of the shed? Has he decided that the time is right to sabotage the row of leylandii at the back of his neighbour's garden? It would certainly make sense for the dastardly deed to be done by a crew of lycra-clad thugs so that he could protest innocence when confronted by an angry neighbour.

A sleepless night followed.

The next morning at 10.00 the usual batch were assembled at The Railway Inn plus a couple of extras - conveniently both called Brian. I am just so useless with names. Once again Bob Smith was missing. We miss Bob, last year he won the shield for the best attendance. I do hope it isn't a case of 'been there, done that' - perhaps he is upset that we didn't buy him the T shirt.

Personally I blame Colin!

Off we went through Upper Killay and off towards Cefn Bryn but not before Trevor gets a call from Dai Harris who appears to have overslept. "OK," says Trevor "we'll wait for you at the junction at the bottom of Cefn Bryn."

So at the junction we waited ......... and waited. Then we elected Des to wait for him so we could go on.

We got to the top, a very straggly bunch and waited for Des and Dai - and Trevor, of course. During our wait we briefly saw the sun, I mention that because that was the first and only sighting that day. Together again we freewheeled down to Reynaldston, through Fairy Hill, past the duck pond, headed towards Llangennith then turned right to Llanmadoc, past Webley Castle and when we reached the main road, there he was - the dapper Bob Smith!. We went through all the usual abuses and mild insults. These things, you see are obligatory. We all do our best but try as we might not one of us can compete with Colin. Cutting!! He could get a job in a barbers.

Clouds were gathering and were issuing pretty determined threats, we had about 30 minutes riding before reaching Trevor's - would he have pity on us and release us from our obligations or would we have to move sheds or poison trees in the pouring rain?

As it happens we arrived just as the rain was taking hold and congregated in the conservatory. Soup, sustenance and alchohol followed and it turned out that we had no shed to move nor trees to kill. It was nothing more sinister than Trevor's birthday celebration - what a relief!

Now starts the story of Walter's transformation, but first I must remind you of the tendency for dog owners to assume the features of their pets. So now that I have done that here is something that you were perhaps not aware of. Not many people know this but if your name is mis-spelt that also changes your character. Considering the current crisis in education this could have serious consequences. Let me tell you Walter's story - then worry.

Walter is very attached to his name and, of course, Walter's name is very attached to him. If anything happens to Walter then it also happens to his name. Grasp that concept and you will have no trouble understanding what happens next.

When Walter tried to enter the conservatory he banged his head quite hard on the top of the doorway and, in so doing knocked off the uprights of the 'W' (in his name). Had he not been proceeding with such momentum all that would have happened was that he would henceforth be known as walter, unfortunately he kept going and did not stop until he cut a slice through the 'l' at about 3/4 height. Any of you who are following this so far will realise that the 'l' suddenly became 'i'. And that's how Walter became a waiter, it has to be said he made a very good waiter and for the remainder of the afternoon dutifuly assisted Pat (Mrs Trev) and served us in a manner to which we have never knowingly been accustomed. All present noticed that he had changed roles but no-one noticed how it happened, apart from me - and now you know.

It was all quite wonderful really. Pat had been busy for days preparing tomato soup for Bob Smith, Trevor had nonchalantly mentioned that she had skinned the tomatoes, meticulously picked out all the seeds with her make-up tweezers, this seedless pulp was then slowly simmered in stock for eight hours then handfuls of basil that she had plucked from the plants she had been nurturing all summer were torn and wilted in. A quick wizz in the liquidiser and a few drops of Worcester sauce with some balsamic vinegar for balance and Bob's soup was ready. So why does Bob have different soup from the rest of us? What makes him so special? Well apart from the obvious he's a vegetarian. The rest of us had pea and ham soup which was really delicious, so delicious that I just had to ask Pat what was her secret method, just what is it that makes a good soup?

"Well," she said "the secret really is the stock, I always use lamb bones for stock and it has to be simmered slowly with onions and herbs overnight then left to stand for eight hours at which time you can chip away the fat off the top. I generally use the fat for Trevor's sandwiches. Anyway the rest is ideal for soup and because lambs only eat grass and no meat whatsoever you can use the same stock for making vegetarian soup as well!!

So there you are Bob, now you know why your soup tasted so good!

And what a team! Pat lovingly slaving over the stove and Walter the waiter bringing all this wonderful food to the table in a most professional manner. I think he even did the washing-up.

Colin was very generous as usual. It seemed that every time my glass was empty it was refilled and every time my glass was refilled I drank some more. It all had the feel of perpetual motion but as I remember from my school days the theory of perpetual motion is flawed. I remembered this just in time and before I became completely floored someone took pity on me and tied Colin's arms to the back of the chair.

Darkness began to descend on Penclawdd and the rain continued. It was going to be a wet, dark ride home - just as well I had lights. Walter, however, did not. The best way for us to go home was in convoy and the sooner we got to the cycle track the better. It was a tricky journey, made worse when my lights failed on the cycle track.

Never mind, it was a good day and, when you get to Trevor's age - celebrations are essential!

And many thanks to Pat!

And finally.

While I was writing this two ladies came and sat at the next table. They only wanted coffee. The one lady goes up to the bar.

"Does the latte come with milk?" she asks.

And so began a very involved conversation about how much milk and so on. The lady was very clearly confused but the barman was, to his great credit, extremely polite and patient.

Eventually they settle for two black coffees with several cartons of milk and the lady returns to her friend and says. "I don't know, all I wanted was coffee with milk, I don't know why he made such a fuss!

Happy pedalling

Lew Spokes

Bike for sale click here for details

Surely not a complaint!!		Colin asleep, Trevor searching for flies in his wine
A Joke		The dapper Bob Smith
A threat?		A Counter-Threat?