CHAPTER II.
CHERTSEY.
After the exceptionally fine paper by our friend, Mr B Whittington last week, it will not surprise me in the least if you all come to the conclusion that this week’s paper is, to put it mildly, somewhat of a tame nature, and to say the least, uninteresting. I don’t think Mr Shawyer will say you’ve missed your vocation.
We started from that hospitable hotel, Grove Mead, Cranford, with our thirsts thoroughly quenched, and each of us in a very ripe condition for a cycle ride to Chertsey, which, by the way, was extended to Brooklands, Weybridge.
It was not very long before we were all in a fairly talkative mood and Harlington was very quickly reached, and here the first halt was made, for none other reason than to pick up more friends.
On the restart we found our ranks considerably increased, totalling to thirteen, and it was quite a noble little army which started once again towards the Hatton road, and we were now enjoying the exceptionally fine roads, and going was easy and our steeds, if they could only have spoken, would have told us with no uncertain sound, that Bath roads were more appetising than Oxhey Lanes. However, even on the best of roads, rogues are to be met, and it was the Writer’s enjoyment, more or less, to pick one up on his tyre between Hatton and Harlington, but, being of a retiring sort of nature when it suits, did not advertise the news, but the shepherd of the flock Mr. B. Whittington, soon spotted the offender and heralded the good news which brought forth the usual kind greeting.
Bedfont was reached about six o’clock, and here several of the Party dismounted in order to see two very fine trees outside the entrance to Bedfont Church, trimmed and shaped very cleverly to resemble peacocks, and the Writer is given to understand that they were trimmed in this peculiar way in memory of two haughty old spinsters who lived in the village. Laleham was very soon reached after this, and it was between here and Chertsey that one of our lady friends kindly obliged us with the only bit of excitement. It was done quite on the spur of the moment, and very well thought out. Somebody must have said to the left, for Miss Blackmore very cleverly guided her machine over the village pavement towards an ugly ditch. The brakes were then promptly put on, much to our relief.
Chertsey was reached in excellent time by a fine sweep of the road, and but for the fact that we were less than twenty miles from the City of London, one could easily have imagined oneself on the Margate Sands, for the dust was quite an inch thick. I think without hesitation, this portion of the journey was by far the most picturesque, and cycling by the riverside is a very welcome change and the ozone given from the river was much appreciated.
A stop was made at the Bungalow, but our appetites and thirsts were not keen enough to warrant a stay, and it was unanimously decided that we should accompany two of our lady friends on to Addlestone. Nothing eventful happened along the way, and the little town was reached about seven o’clock. Here, again, we were forced to dismount for one other reason that to let the local train pass by, but some people are never idle, and our friend, Mr Paul must pay a visit to the neighbouring grocer. Some say he went in solely to buy chocolates, but more than one of us noticed a very charming maid in the desk. However, he came out with the chocolates which we much appreciated.
We now had the news brought to us by Miss Neighbour that if we were in a fresh enough mood for a further three miles, we should probably see some aeroplanes. It was just the invigorating tonic we needed, and all of us were ready for something out of the ordinary and a sort of sharp canter was indulged in to Weybridge. We certainly saw aeroplanes, but they weren’t in a flying mood. Something now was telling us we should now journey back to the Bungalow, Chertsey, and a restart was made about 7.30 and Chertsey was one again very soon reached. Here we all dismounted to enjoy a few refreshments at the local bungalow.
I really think there is nothing like a cycle ride to prepare one for a pastime of this sort, and we were quite ready to start again for the remaining part of the journey back to Grove Mead, Cranford, where once again their usual hospitality was shown. I think we all thoroughly enjoyed the ride, which certainly deserves another visit. It was a welcome change from the previous week, and the civilized state of the roads and the lack of an ice cart with a melting cargo was much appreciated.
Now may I briefly describe the following week’s ride. The arrangement was for a small contingent to visit Bricket Wood early in the afternoon, and to return to Pinner in the evening to meet the rest of the party.
As you all doubtless remember, the morning prospects which gave high hopes for a fine sunny day, were dashed to the ground early in the afternoon, but none the less, a small party did start from Pinner, with the full intention of visiting Bricket Wood, but just as the train was entering the station, down came the moisture. A hasty conference was held in the carriage, and St Albans was agreed by all as being a far more suitable resting place on a wet day than Bricket Wood.
The Cathedral was visited during evensong. That over, we adjourned to the usual rendezvous for that time of the day, and we arrived back to Pinner about 6.45pm
There we were met by the shepherd of the flock, Mr B Whittington. The rest of the party had not arrived, so we set out to explore their whereabouts and were soon rewarded by the sight of three little maids who had evidently been setting the pace; after returning to the station to see whether the prodigal of the party had arrived, it was unanimously decided that the Cocoa Tree, Pinner, should be our next haunt. With that in view Oxhey Lanes would have been no hardship, ice carts across the track would have almost been welcomed, but no such luck. We were now trying to know each other, for I forgot to mention, our part had broken all records in numbers, for the company totalled seventeen strong, and the noise and chatter perfectly warranted that number.
Presently a stern voice was heard above all our chirrups. To the left. We all obeyed in true military style with a few exceptions only to learn later it was the cuckoo’s voice.
The Cocoa Tree was reached about 7.15, and we were particularly fortunate to find for our visitors a party of glee singers. It was not long before we realised our friends were worth listening to, and but for an occasional Don’t delivered at an offender for filling his glass with lemonade stoppers we were a fairly attentive audience.
A homeward start was made about 8 o’clock, and it was very evident from the beginning, that some of the party were full to the brim with mischief. Secret talks were indulged in along the way by certain members of the party, and Mr B Whittington was seem more than once with an ugly bit of string dangling near certain members of the party.
It was just past Ruislip that a smart little canter took place amongst a portion of the young blood of the party, and the goal was evidently the three young maids in front. It was not very clear to the write what object they had in view, but it seemed to him that their hats were a target. However, the ladies made a brave fight, and it was a pity Miss Pankhurst of suffragette fame, could not have been a witness of same, for I am sure, with their militant tactics, particularly Miss Enid Neighbour’s, she would have found some promising recruits. Down Barns, Hayes, was reached in good time, and once again Miss Pool showed her usual practical kindness, for which we thank her very much.
It was now nine o’clock, and a promise was made that Cranford should be reached by nine-thirty, so to the saddles we went, but the plots, which were in their embryo state along the Ruislip road were now reaching maturity, for more than one cycle was very lovingly embracing the other, either round the tyres or across the handlebars, but there was no time to listen to their sentimental explanations, and rough treatment was more to the mark. However it was not long before we were in the saddles again enjoying the nigh air, when another plot was hatched, for it was very plain to us all, about midway down the Yeading Lane, an heated discussion was taking place between two tramps, led away by the exhuberance of their own verbosity, harangued over nothing, and yet there was sufficient of something to arrest the homeward development of a crew, reckless and warlike together, but timid and babyish alone, hence the gusto by which the whole lot surrounded the apparent strangers of the road, when lo! and alas! They turned out to be, not commercials, but our old Pals so and so, who had acted as an advance guard to ensure our safe arrival home.
The usual greetings being exchanged, we parted.
PERCY PHILLIPS
