CHAPTER III.
CHALFONT ST. PETER.
JUNE 11TH, 1910.
The members of the Cycling Club met at Bournes Bridge, at 5.15pm, numbering twelve. The first place of interest point out by the captain, was the notable Dawley Wall which is supposed to have been built during the period of a small-pox outbreak in the district, the purpose of which, I am told, being to keep out the germs.
Having been shut off from all scenery by this before-mentioned obstruction, the Captain’s mind – busy as usual – hit on the idea of appointing the reporter for the evening. It was then suggested that Miss Neighbour might lead off for the gentler sex, but want of time made it necessary for her to decline.
A suggestion was made that another member should be consulted. In view of the backwardness of others, the writer was made to feel that it was her duty to accept the responsibility.
This settled; we had now left the Dawley Wall behind us, and on our right saw the Hillingdon Infirmary, which, to the writer’s mind was a very fine building indeed.
On nearing the village of Cowley, we noticed some magnificent houses on our right, the centre one of which had recently become the new abode of Mr George Shawyer. But for the fact that they had recently moved in, and were all sixes and sevens they would have been pleased to have conducted the party over the new house. Mr Fred and Miss Edie alighted here, to exchange fraternal greetings, the remainder enjoying a slow cycle race under the tuition of the Captain to the main street.
To our right we saw a small butcher’s shop, in which Mr David Pool, now Purveyor of Dairy Produced to High Majesty’s Household was once apprenticed to the butchering business.
By this time, the rest of the members having once more joined us, we all mount our willing steeds and make for Uxbridge by the backway, passing the Town Clock and quaint old market place.
On our left is the old Treaty House, in which it was suggested King John signed the Magna Charta, and afterwards left for Runnymede, for what reason the captain did not know. I have grave reason for doubting the whole story – the Captain notwithstanding.
We had now left the trams and traffic in the rear, and are riding through exceedingly pretty country, faintly reminding one of glorious Devon with its hills and valleys.
Several of our members did not feel disposed to waste their energy by riding up this long and steep hill, known as Red Hill, so the consequence was, the energetic members of the party, on reaching the summit, stretched their weary limbs on the heaps of stones by the wayside, to await their more prudent companions. Miss Marjorie Belch and Mr Jenkinson now had to return home, owing to the promise of the lady to her father. We all very much regretted to lose their company, but remembering the sad consequences of our own past disobediences, we could not but commend the lady for keeping her promise so faithfully.
The Captain made a suggestion that a letter should be written at Chalfont, and signed by each member, making an excuse for the lady’s late return to her parents. Mr Phillips thought perhaps it would be better if he took the liberty of asking Mr Belch to grant him a short interview. But Miss Marjorie, confident that neither of these courses would avail, begged to be excused, and mentioned that she would do her best to get an extension next week. After saying adieu, we all got going once more and enjoyed a good half mile freewheeling. The next item of interest was a large mansion on our right, which was once the home of Isaac and Mary Penington, whose graves were noticed by several members of the Club, at The Jordans, a short time previously. It was also, for a short period the home of the notorious Judge Jeffries (hated of all good Westcountry men), who, it is supposed, built the Greyhound Inn, which dates from the seventeenth century .
The next thought of the part was to make for a suitable Café. This was soon accomplished under the supervision of our right honourable friend, Mr Phillips – always a mark on refreshments. The place selected was the George Inn. There we parted with two lady friends, who wished to make a short visit to some acquaintance further up the village. The captain now boldly stepped forward to interview the proprietress, with whom he had a wordy discussion. She, coming to the conclusion after some time, that we were decent people, decided to serve our refreshments in the drawing room, to which the ladies immediately adjourned. The gentlemen explored the scullery arrangements of the house, in search of a pump, under which, some members were administered a much-needed shampoo. The good lady was exceptionally quick, and served the refreshments in a very prompt manner. The gentlemen seemed very concerned when they found the teapot had been taken away, but felt much relieved when the waitress came in for returns. The members sitting at the window witnessed a very amusing incident, which soon drew the attention of all, the gentlemen in particular. It was a party mostly of ladies, having their photograph taken.
Quite possibly, they were a cycling party like ourselves. We were next favoured by Mr Phillips with an excellent report of the two former excursions, but we all very much regretted it had caused him many sleepless nights. The senior members of the Club, finding it eight o’clock suggest that we make our departure.
Everyone felt in good spirits, and also much revived after the splendid refreshments of which they had partaken.
There was nothing of great interest in the village; the Misbourne stream was very pretty where it forms a watersplash.
The Church is quite modern, but contains some interesting brasses, which, owing to the want of time, we were unable to inspect.
The evening was simply glorious, and the advantages derived from cycling in such delightful circumstances appealed to us all. The next little incident which appeared to us all at first to be serious, and called for our sympathies, was that a fly seemed to have taken liberties with the person of our respect friend, Mr Phillips, by trespassing on his eye.
Several of the ladies made careful examinations but were unable to locate the little creature. The patient, who had now rallied, thought he might be able to proceed – the fly notwithstanding. We had not ridden far from the scene of the incident when the news was reported that Miss Enid Neighbour had found her back tyre absolutely flat, and also noticed that the cap of the valve was missing. The cat was out of the bag. The Captain and Mr Phillips, thinking the reporter might was (??) some sensational matter for her report, had carried out the fly in the eye incident to draw off attention, while they deflated unoffending ladies’ cycle tyres.
Soon we were once more entering Uxbridge, which presented to the write a typical Saturday evening appearance. Everyone seemed loaded with parcels, the streets here were very thickly peopled, which made it necessary for some of the part to dismount. Just before we reached Mr George Shawyer’s, Mr Fred Shawyer and Miss Flossie Heyward parted from the Club, en route for Longford. By this time, several members felt very thirsty and made straight for Pear Tree Inn, where they quenched their thirst in nothing stronger than lemonade.
The proprietor recommended Devonshire Cyder, which, I am afraid, had they indulged in, would have made it difficult for them to have reached Cranford at all.
We now parted with one by one members of the party, and found ourselves, numbering only three, to partake of more refreshments at Grove Mead, Cranford.
KATHLEEN BLACKMORE
