Thursday 22nd February I woke up, slid my legs out of my comfortable bed and promptly fell to the floor.

"Oh my goodness," I thought "I seem to have lost the use of my lower limbs"

Then it all came back to me - Bob Evans and his away day! I must write my report. I make my way painfully down the stairs, charge up the coffee machine, reach for pen and paper and here I am, dear reader.

As I said the away day was organised by Bob Evans, a quiet unassuming sort of chap. Not too much to say for himself. Anyway he had been good enough to organise the trip so we thought the least we could do was to go along with it.

What a mistake!

Being a good friend of mine Bob had phoned me the previous evening and explained that he would be unable to lead the ride and asked would I be kind enough to take responsibility for it. I agreed of course. He gave his reasons but they are of a rather personal nature so I am not able to reveal them here.

Anyway all yesterday's riders will be pleased to know they are not by any means trivial.

It was the great JC's turn to drive so it was that promptly on the dot of 9.12.14secs he arrived. He may be proud of his accuracy but that really is going too far! My bike was soon loaded and we were away. We arrived at St Clears just after ten - eleven riders altogether, a pretty good turnout for an away day.

Although St Clears is tucked away to the side of a rather busy main road it is a thriving little town and has not been able to isolate itself from the realities of the world outside. Inflation, that scourge of modern economies that the Chancellor works ceaselessly to conquer, has affected the town just like it has affected all other towns in our much shrunk British Empire.

Yes, the toilets are 20p a go!!

However our resourceful members know how to fight inflation of this sort. Ten of them got together, each chipping in two shiny pence into a kitty and despatched the least desperate to the local agricultural merchant to change said coins to a 20p piece. They then formed an orderly queue, each relieved rider then held the door open for the next. Brilliant!!

1p for 90% off.

I just stood and watched.

Finally we were ready for the off and we were headed for Meidrim. It was a sunny, blue skied day, amazing for February. The sun warmed our backs as we pedalled along in that carefree way that we do. We reached Meidrim and waited to regroup. This was going to be a good ride "A total of 34 miles, mostly on quiet roads, not too many hills" - that was the promise.

As we left Meidrim we realised that this may have been a false promise, made in order to deceive us into coming on the ride, we were riding a long, one mile hill.

But hey, this was probably the only one!

We reached Trelech where we were confronted by a steep downhill stretch only to be faced with a horrendous uphill climb, cheered on by some bouncing, barking dogs. I gave in and pushed the bike while my aching legs screamed messages to my brain.

I had assumed responsibility for this ride and, naturally, I was being asked questions about the terrain.

"Are there many more hills?" they would ask.

"No, no - we're nearly there" I would reply, hoping that what I was saying was the truth.

Finally Crymych, the city of dreams, came to view with a glimpse of Newport bay beyond. This was our lunch stop and very welcome it was too.

Tired and weary we parked our bikes. "Don't worry" I said "It'll be all downhill on the way back." I really, honestly believed that.

We took over the dining room, we were clearly the biggest money spinner that had hit the Crymych Arms since last summer. The menu was good and varied, I enjoyed a beef and onion pie, chips and peas with a pint of good, foaming, froth-topped ale while several of the others enjoyed a couple of faggots apiece - its all a matter of taste. We noticed that even the toilet doors swing both ways in Crymych.

Refreshed we were ready for the off again but JC had locked his bike to Colin's and there he was scratching his head and struggling with his combinations. Normally it wouldn't matter to me but I was relying on John for my lift home. Eventually the bikes were freed and off we went to catch up Big Trev who had made an early start. The sky had clouded over by this time and the wind had increased, it had become chilly. After 2 miles we were off the main road and had some good downhill runs to Hebron. "Yes" I thought "Downhill most of the way now."

But it was not, we were to suffer several long, steep hills before reaching St Clears and, I have to say, the natives were getting restless.

One by one they came alongside and asked. "How many more hills?" By this time I simply had no idea so I thought the best response was one of encouragement. "This'll be the last one" I heard myself saying, silently praying that I was right. It started to rain, not heavily but persistently and it had become cold but eventually we were freewheeling down a long stretch all the way to St Clears. The chill factor worked its way through our clothing but St Clears and the cars were getting nearer all the time.

Back at last, bikes all stowed away we all gathered to say our goodbyes. Eleven very exhausted wet riders.

I lifted my head to the wet sky and shouted.

"Bob Evans, you are a cad and a bounder!"

"Hear hear" they wearily replied.

I am away for the next three rides so see you in four weeks.

Lew Spokes