I should have met Tom at Sudden this morning, but during the night an extra, very heavy fall of snow had taken place, and I, much to my shame, shirked it. I got fed up with mooching about at home, so at dinner, I decided to go and meet the club at tea time. The state of that third rate Tockholes road would be far too bad to ride over, so I took Blackburn road. At Edgeworth, just commencing the long, gradual ascent, the surface was slushy and hard going. On the moors above Darwen, the snow lay in deep drifts, which more than once brought me down, and the descent through Darwen became ever more perilous, owing to the frozen cart and motor ruts, which were covered by a thin layer of snow. To make matters worse, I found a gash in my rear tyre with the inner tube showing through, and as I had no means of repairing it, and all the cycle shops were closed, I lived in continual fear of the frozen snow finishing the job. At last I got clear of the weary succession of streets, and reached the open country at Wilpshire. Turning sharply left, I came to Salesbury, from where I got a wonderful view of the lower Ribble Valley, and the snow bound slopes of Pendle Hill. A short downhill run brought me to Miss Bolton’s at Ribchester, where I got a comfortable place before the fire. Half and hour later, the club came in, with their machines and selves resembling snowballs. At 6.45 we started back, via Mellor Brook to Pleasington and Feniscowles, soon striking Belmont road, which took us home. Altogether, the ride home was eerie in the extreme, the only light coming from the snow. My rear tyre remained unpunctured, for which I was thankful, it was a miracle how it stuck it as we jolted and skidded all over the road. We got to Bolton about 9.30.