Saturday, 17 October 1925 Walton le Dale

Post:        Charlie strikes a chord for me, he is right I venture to suggest that when the elements are against one on the road, there is a peculiar joy.  A joy that is denied to others following different pursuits.  Or am I completely past it ?  Answers on a postcard please !

Saturday, October 17 1925                           Walton le Dale

 I started this afternoon in a terrific rainstorm.  It was what most folks call rotten weather, what cyclists call ‘not so bad’, but still, when I got on Beaumont road, which is very exposed, and bent down to it with the wind striving to hold me back, and a smarting rain beating a tattoo on my uncovered head, I had the full joy of cycling under adverse conditions – the peculiar joy that makes me like cycling in wet or rough weather and which makes most cyclists revel in it.

There were only four of us at the club meeting place, the Beehive Hotel, and the leader (one of the four) had only come to let us know that he had a bad cold and was going back home, leaving three of us to carry on, Joe, Mac and I.  We packed our capes away, and faced the wind along Chorley New Road, deciding to go to Walton le Dale instead of White Coppice, so passing through Chorley, we kept to the main road, and soon arrived.

While we were at tea, a party of Bolton Wheelers came in, and Jim Ashworth, a member of the Bolton CTC, who is well known for his droll humour.  We had a pleasant hour by the fire while Jim explained his perpetual motion theories, theories that in their absurdities set us rocking with laughter.

Then the same road, singing songs to Chorley, where we stopped at a shop and dared Joe to go in for a halfpenny of spearmint.  He did so, and when he was told that they had none, he asked for two P.K.s (P.K’s are four a penny).  Then Jim went in, and the following dialogue took place:

“Have you any Abdullah cigarettes please?”   (a very expensive brand)

“I’m sorry we haven’t”

“Oh well, gimme a packet of Woodbines!”

Then again, the main road home, cracking jokes continually, and parting a merry party indeed.                                                         36 miles

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