Mr Bert Whittington

CHAPTER I.
BRICKET WOOD.

On Saturday, May 21st, "The Cranford Wanderers", - since styled the "Pilgrims" met at Down Barns, under the kind hospitality of Miss Pool, from whence the following run was made. Starting, ten in number, at about 5.30pm, in a north-westerly direction to Ruislip, the field at once opened out, partaking somewhat of the nature of a procession. The ride through level Middlesex lanes was full of interest but lacking in adventure until nearing Ruislip village in the act of slow riding, one of the ladies' horses – Miss Mabel Pool’s to wit – was rendered unfit. After a careful examination by one of the big men of the party, it was deemed advisable that the offending steed should be stabled at the Manor, Ickenham, and exchanged for a more willing mount. Accordingly, Mr Percy Phillips accompanied Miss Mabel Pool on this errand, the major portion of the company continued into Ruislip, and for some little time centred their interests in the heart of the village just outside The George Inn, viewing the finish of a ten mile walk by Messrs. Mappin and Webb’s employees, the time, it will be remembered, of the winning man being 1hr 35mins 30secs. At six o’clock, the party again mounted and continued by way of Eastcote, passing the Black Horse, the Post Office, The Woodman and The Ship Inns. Crossing the main London Road, Oxhey Lane was entered a stiff climb rewarding the party on gaining the summit by a view of almost Devonian character. The Party was now rendered complete by the delayed portion rejoining the main body. The ride continued through lovely scenery and by a coasting spin into the Brewery Town of Watford, rendered also famous, as having been the early schooling centre of the writer. The town, though its name is associated with Ale, contains an important Mineral Water Manufactory.

At the Queen’s Road junction with the High Street, the Party like the now popular Haley’s Comet, developed two tails, on of which continued into the Brewery centre for an hour’s rest and enjoyment with friends, whilst the other portion made their way to the St Albans road, en route for Bricket Wood, the mileage thereto, according to local calculation, being anything but a stationary amount. At different spots on the way, it was observed that the vanguard of the Party, Mr Percy Phillips and Miss Enid Neighbour, held up one or two motors, unconsciously or otherwise, the writer cannot say; the first-named was possibly the worse offender. By means of an undulating ride about one and a quarter miles in length, from the St Albans Road, the Party arrived at Bricket Wood.

Proceeding through the hamlet, all eyes were open in search of a suitable refreshment spot. Finding a house which appears to meet the need, the Company alighted – the gentlemen, travel-stained, proceeded to wash and brush up. The ladies – always charming – re-arranged their toilets – Coffee, Cakes, and Lemonade being meanwhile ordered. The frugal repast, taken in the open air, was in some respects not successful, the Coffee being voted as being prepared from Essence, and without hot milk, whilst the Cakes, to the Writer’s thinking, were not such as would commend the local cook as a housewife.

At 8 o’clock pm, the Party, after interviewing the proprietors on a matter of business, started to rejoin the second tail at Watford. The appointed trysting place was reached at 8.40pm (ten minutes late) and was the signal for Mr Phillips to at once attempt an impossible task, viz – that of the quenching of a perpetual thirst. The attempt was made in two sodas the milk, at threepence a time, to the pleasing astonishment of the fair maid in the local pastry cook’s. However, all pleasures have an end. At 8.55pm the full Party left en route for home.

Like the forward journey, the return start was of a processional character. The High Street, Watford, it will be remembered, being thronged with local citizens, and thus adding to the gaps already present in The Wanderers ranks. Through this double cause two of our esteemed friends, Mr Fred Shawyer and Miss Neighbour, proceeded for some distance on a wrong scent. (This lack of travelling organization is, I believe, to be remedied in the future. The Writer expresses on this occasion, the sorrow he feels, and as one who knew the road, is possibly deserving of some little censure – very little).

The greater portion of the Party continued through Oxhey Lane, to the interruption of what appeared to be several local courting couples – homeward bound – (The Party, not the couples).

About half-way to Northwood however, an ice van, like Apolyon, straddled almost the whole breadth of the way, being on the Hill Difficulty, the rear wheels in the Slough of Despond. A call to halt was made, and after some delay, the vanguard of the Party, who were the same as previously mentioned, responded. Leaving their own wheels, all hands of the Company present put their hands to the wheels, or to the rear of the van, which, it will be remembered, had a movable tail-board, and a melting cargo. With encouraging shouts to the horses by the patient carman, the van was helped upward and onward to Northwood, by a succession of seven stages, short, sharp, and severe. The Writer, at one moment of necessary respite, snatched a pleasing view of female figures bent in helpful labour, such as would satisfy the heart of any critic. However, we must not stop. We did not. The Party continued, now joined by Mr Fred Shawyer and Miss Neighbour, who had, by their enforced temporary absence unconsciously allowed us to get a little nearer towards them in the amount of helpful toil completed.

Passing down a hill, which Mr Paul and myself remember, by reason of Mustard we crossed the London Road, and were soon pedalling through Eastcote. Arriving at rural Ruislip, a halt was made by the leaders, and at their example, the Party, hot, thirsty, delayed and dusty after their many exertions adjourned at 10.10pm to the local Post Office, also serving as a refreshment depot. Here they partook, possibly unwisely, of gas laden lemonade. Some of the Company were now clearly manifesting signs of jovial hilarity, which the Writer did well to endeavour to restrain.

At 10.20pm, a cry To Horse was acted upon, and the ride proceeded without untoward incident to Town Barn’s hill. The beginning of the end was now at hand. We, after wishing Good-Night, left Miss Mabel Pool at 10.35pm to satisfy Down Barns as to her somewhat late arrival and possibly besmeared condition. Continuing to West End, the Writer bade Good-night to the remainder of the Company, and was soon between the sheets to dream about Ice and other cold things, Mustard and other warm things.

Thank you, dear Reader, for your patient attention, which as you continue, will not be so sorely tried.

BERT WHITTINGTON

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