Standing on one leg is harder than you think!
Times were impaired by the
goggles of darkness. Ken only survived 2.14 seconds, but Deik arriving
just in time for last shout on Saturday night duly set an astounding time
of 1 min. 41.06 seconds, making him the:
WILTSHIRE FOUR HORSE TOUR CHOSEN ONE.
Many campers set fourth on Friday with Sue and Carol going on ahead with a
Chuck Wagon full of Turkish delight, Cornish dull eyed Mackerel and
women's things. My bike caught fire during a petrol stop, but Gregg's
reflex deployment of a forecourt extinguisher and a bit of sticky tape saw
me back on the B4009.
We duly arrived at Honeystreet and quickly acclimatised to
the local beer
conditions and their solid gravy. After pumping our primus stoves,
Saturday morning saw us setting out: Chris (2.25 seconds) passed on the
civilized 65 mile tour of the Horses and Avebury Stones to continue on his
noble, but pleasingly pointless Landmark Challenge. Devon and back saw his
Trident's trip meter clock over 260 miles, some achievement after spending
a night buffeted by Britain's Olympic snoring team: Colin Mark and Mick
(bronze in Barcelona 1988).
Meanwhile, sat on the back of the Pewsy Horse, our group posing for Roger
(27.41 seconds) in a group photo opportunity were struck by the
photographers chance discovery of a bottle of beer laying unmolested by a
rustic post ... an omen from the ancients foretelling the quaffing and
feasting that lay ahead that night.
The evening saw the ancient's prophecy fulfilled as ale was indeed quaffed
and chunks of gravy were sucked like lozenges as we reflected on the
merits of the travelling minstrel hired by the tavern with his green
waistcoat and unsettling hair.
Sunday saw the carp-rod flagpole of life lowered and hissing stale air
from the soiled air beds of oblivion reverberated around the encampment as
we prepared to leave.
Ken (2.14 seconds) had become worryingly obsessed by food during the jaunt
when any order for pub grub consistently failed to materialise; he wanted an
early homeward lunch stop.
Well bloated and soporific from a big feeding frenzy in Hermitage, Ken
gently snoozed under the shade of a mango tree as the rest of us tried to
sneak off and leave him to bump off his bedecked laverda S F (which we had
to push after every one of our numerous stops, due to it being Italian).
But he woke with a start and shouted out "Apple Crumble and Custard!".
Ah well, back at home with only fond memories to counter the futility of
ordinary existence. But take heart fellow journeymen and women, the
ancient's power is restored, as is Ken's battery.
Thanks to all those who tagged along, particularly the
"Busy Bee's and the
North west London Triumph owners club.
Standing On One Leg Results:
Mins.
Secs.
Deik
1
41.06
Duncan
1
15.12
Colin
58.19
Greg
48.89
Roger
27.47
Martin
26.10
Pat
22.44
Mark
21.55
Carol
10.84
Mick
9.78
Sue
3.14
Chris
2.25
Ken
2.14
Also mentions to:
Colin, for his quick thinking when my bike caught fire and the courageous
way he momentarily tried to beat out the flames, then gave up and wheeled
his Commando well out the way from my incendiary device. What a Geezer!
And, finally, Martin; for walking in a fine way whilst holding a pint ...
Be seeing you, Dunc.