Abergavenny April 2003
A finger of sunlight
beckoned me through the curtains on Sunday morning my body couldn’t believe it
was
already 8.30, with a weary shake of the head and a quick double take (how many
bottles of wine), I got up
and prepared for the day ahead little was I to know the events that would
unravel before me that day. Soon
it was time to leave, filled up with fuel and met up with Geoff (Bluemax) about
10.00 am, next to arrive and
we could hear him from a great distance was Rusty Bolts resplendent in iridium
visor, in total we had Roger
and Tina with friends, Simon and El, Andy & Sámi, Geoff, Rusty and myself, Time
to get a group photo
before we set off perhaps Bluemax Geoff had a vision.. LOL
Set off at the usual
brisk pace passing through Catherine De Barnes, Knowle and Henley in Arden. A
great road
for bikes, somehow because of traffic we got split up and when we got to
the Studley island Geoff was waiting
with the usual stance, so I carried on straight on not realizing that
Rusty and Roger hadn’t gone on ahead and
were in fact in the Garage refueling, knowing the route we were taking I thought
I could catch up with them
eventually. After a few miles I realized that we were separated and decided to
head for the first scheduled
stop hoping we would catch them up. Over the new bridge at Worcester and then
carried on the Road to Hereford,
approximately 11 miles from Hereford I noticed in the mirror a number
bikes approaching it was Geoff, Rusty and
Roger they had caught up with us, there was me thinking they were in
front. Rode straight through Hereford and
stopped at a filling station approximately 25 miles from Abergavenny.
“Now for the gooey
bit”, the boy racers (boys! I don’t think so) shot off down the road at a fair
old lick but Mr.
Sensible here couldn’t be arsed (probably the wine from the previous night), so
I did the scenery thing and I have
to tell you it was great one of the best roads we go down (imho)
reasonably empty all the hedgerows green with
the spring flowers in bloom fantastic and I only arrived a few minutes later.
“End of gooey bit”
Arrived at the bus
station heard outrageous stories from RB and Geoff, I won’t bore you with them
anyway it might
offend the locals. Good to see Ron from Wiltshire and Stacey already in
attendance, followed very shortly by
Dwight Burger, Sarah and Max Torquer who’s exhaust can be heard from miles away.
More outrageous stories
and admiring glances from the Tupperware Torpedo brigade. There was a great deal
of
curiosity about what was underneath Rusty’s Denim Tank cover so he was
(forcibly) persuaded to remove it as you
can see from the pic
Yes!, it turned out to
be the famous Tiger Max, Rusty now totally fazed and worried for once that his
relatives
might see him in a bad light, Max T quickly stepped forward and saved his
embarrassment by presenting him
with a shiny black one.
So we went off to find some lunch OK to a pub, packet of crisps, lager (feeling much better now) on a bit of a roll.
I thought Rusty was
going to get us into some bother for back chatting the local inhabitants but its
OK, apparently
its quite usual for distant relatives to be attracted to each other a blood
thing, and when he said go and get your
Ducati and then we will have a race boyo! I thought its going to end in tears.
Fortunately the deadlock was broken
when one old lady approached him foaming jug in hand peering over her half moon
glasses her lips wet with beer
she opened her wrinkled toothless mouth and said “Shadwell where have you been?,
finally returned after all
these years I knew you wouldn’t let me down”, she tried to clasp Rusty to her
wrinkled breasts that were flecked
with bits of dry roast I think, so we thought time for a sharp exit so we
left the hostelry leaving Miss Myfanwee
Davies Bolts to her fantasies and dripping more lager down her chin into
her ample equally wrinkled bosom.
Time to track down the famous Abergavenny museum,
We now have positive
proof that Shadwell really existed there was a special exhibition featuring
shadwells tin leg
and other artifacts from him, through dark and dirty grey windows we could
see shining like a beacon for all to
see Shadwell’s tin leg, a little tarnished round the edges but glowing with what
seemed a life of its own, Rusty’s
eyes glazed a line of spittle dripping down his chin (or was it Myfanwee’s left
overs) I had to physically restrain
him from breaking the glass and claiming the ancient relic for his own and here
the plotting starts, because the
museum was being guarded by 5or6 burly 8 year olds on black mountain bikes (as
in colour not the mountains
themselves), he/we decided to case the joint to return at a more convenient time
and consult with Cousin Geoff
who his the real mastermind and has for years held a svengali like grip over
Rusty’s mind……. …………
Then just as RB was
dressing up as a little lost shepherd boy the burly 8 year olds grabbed us and
threw us into the
dungeons of Abergavenny castle, the really scary thing was we heard one of the
little Baaturds shouting go and fetch
Myfanwee she will now what to do….. Fortunately in time of great stress
Rusty has a way out, from his secret inside
pocket he pulled two sheep outfits complete with little legs and a big red 57
painted on the side of one 59 on the other,
we had just changed when the dungeon door flung back and Myfanwee appeared
breast heaving (it was up hill) seeing
only two scraggy looking sheep she cuffed the 8 years olds soundly round the
ears covering us in foam, nuts and saliva
and while she was distracted we made our escape.
We hurriedly returned
to the Max’s at the coach station and said our farewells; most of Abergavenny
had by then
come out to wave off the prodigal son aghast at that Myfanwee Davies Bolts
ramblings were really true. Rusty was
heard to shout we will return the Golden leg will be mine it’s my inheritance
you cannot deny me, you can take our
lives but never our tin legs…..
We traveled back
through Skenfrith out towards Ross on Wye, and back through Malvern, remembering
the deluge
last year??? Rusty says he’s never managed to get the black leather dye out of
his wife’s knickers...
Across the new bridge
at Worcester via one of Bluemax Geoff’s little route through Alcester and to
Wooton Wawen
into Henley when once again we said our farewells, RB and I went back to my
house for coffee and because the
Asian family up the road were cooking the Sunday Curry we decided to go and get
one. Perfect end to a perfect day.
Grateful thanks to all those that turned up, those that didn’t shame on you, you really missed a good one.
Next trip out is Poole on 11th May, be there or be square….