Mrs Simon, myself, the ginger one and the blonde one drove up from the windswept, rain lashed Essex coast and parked on the equally windswept rain lashed Orford on the Suffolk coast. If you have never been - you simply must. This unprepossessing place, actually that is a diservice, it is beutiful, bucoclic seaboard village - the heady scent of chickory smoke hanging in the air, hand-woven baskets welcoming you into the bosom of the community. It is the only collection of houses that has its own castle just tucked around the corner, and Blondie loved eating mussels there.
Anyway left said village - headed off towards the Maltings, dropped by Albeburgh, shot along the seafront, hitting an almighty headwind - soaked by passing cars as they made sure I went up to my hubs in flooded road - with smiling little faces encouraging Daddy to soak the dick stupid enough to be out on his bike....
Reached Thorpeness - marvelled at the very tall house for a couple of seconds, lungs starting to burn a fraction due the fact I have so far ridden at a sprint - taken left and headed for Leiston. Now this is where it started to go wrong - both with me in a mental way (my stubbornness and general bloody mindedness) and with a jobsworthy cycle shop owner.
I pull into said lovely little town with the most incredible thirst that needed slaking - had sweated half my body weight and needed to top up. I had left my bidon in the car that was by now in Walberswick enjoying the car park of of one of its pubs - so all I could think... no lets say.. fixate on, was I need a new bidon. I pull up to the only cycle shop, I step in and attempt to speak. Speach was hampered by the fact that my tongue was stuck to outside of my mouth, but I enquired after the market rate of a Bidon in Leiston - and was told £3. in my pocket I had £2.75. This ain't a problem - I foolishly thought to myself. He will give it up to a cyclist in need and soak the 25p shortfall. But no - I told him how much I had and he looked zombie like into my eyes and said 'well you need 25p then', umm I thought ha ha you jest, but seriously hand it over mate I need it.... I laughed, I did chirpy (fat tongued) chappy 'seriously mate I'm dying of dehydration here.. ha hahha ha ha ha.... 'oh, but I'm not a charity'. OK this is a fair point, he is not - but for God's sake 25p! I went stoney faced. 'Come on don't be a wally, its 25p its not like I'm asking you to throw in some free pedals' and he just flatly said 'Not enough money, no purchase'. At this point I lost it - to my eternal shame I may have sworn at him - he, to his credit did not swear back. Then I did something ridiculous, I threw my £2.75 on his floor and said keep it for the next f****g cyclist who comes asking for a break. Generous of you I hear you say - however, I think maybe I should have just popped across the road with my money and bough a small bottle of water and drunk it... no that would have been sensible.
I left Leiston - headed off to Walberswick, drying out second by second - to be greeted by Ginger Blondie, Mrs Simon and two whole pints of Adnams finest pints of Broadside..... lovely.
Still this was about 4 months ago - and I don't hold bitter grudges - just took ages to post this.
Suffolk remains a place of great beauty and very close to my heart.
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