Fair play to Dan Donnelly. First time on the bike in 2 years and he was the first under the tree for the Sunday morning weekly spin. Mind you when he arrived there was a panicking session because he had ridden with a flat back wheel all the way from Eglish. “It’s been that long since I cycled I forgot how to get the wheel off so I thought I would let the Igloo Man do it instead. I’ve a pair of rubber gloves here if you’d like them and some baby wipes. Mind you I only came here today because The Farmer said he would be here too, but I don’t see any sign of him. I think he’s going to join the Touring department later for a cup of Joe’s freshly made green grass tea.”
Thanks to the muscle in the group the tube was eventually changed about 20 minutes later. Then it was bums on saddles as we followed The Marzipan Man out of The Moy towards Blackwatertown. The Marzipan Man was going well considering he hadn’t been on the saddle since before the festive season. When he had finally finished wishing everyone a “Happy New Year” he began telling stories of his times in Donegal and further afield. The headwind kept the pace civil as the peloton snaked its way through Blackwatertown and towards Tullysaron. Sir Alex was happy to shield us all from the gusts while The Younger Schleck was dreaming of warmer weather and his holidays in France. As for the Master Carpenter he was dreaming of his Sunday dinner which he was planning to have en route and was worrying whether there would be any gravy left by the time we would get to Clones. The Duff was on bridge alert and had cycled the route the night before to make sure there were no bridges that he might hit his head on going under. His other main concern was his packed social diary. After the cycled there was the Liverpool game. Like so many he has bought a Liverpool jersey for the first time now that they have started to win a game or two. After that there was to be a big birthday party so he didn’t want to be out too long in case he wouldn’t get a visa for both.
The Connoisseur was quieter than usual. He had got new pedals and was careful not to fall off. He had slept all Saturday night with his feet in the pedals because they were too tight to get his feet out. “I’m hoping all the traffic lights will be green to day so I don’t have to stop.
Once through Tullysaron it was onwards and upwards towards Monaghan. Once through Monaghan The Younger Schleck used his hairdryer to order everyone to go towards Scotstown which we all near missed when we blinked and then on to Tydavnet and the tea stop in Clones.
There was a smaller Sunday dinner than usual for the Master Craftsman and breakfast baps for Black Rod and The Oil Man. The Oil Man then produced his round apple squares for dessert which went down well with those who got one. The local facilities were in demand as the ladies toilet had a queue of Square Wheelers at it and so did the gents.
At least on the way home the Clones Cyclone was behind us as Barry McGuigan waved goodbye on our way back to Monaghan. “Don’t thank the tail wind” he said, “thank Mr Eastwood.” Sir Alex and The Rushmere Man were happy to stay at the front and lead us all through Monaghan and on to Middletown. A tractor provided us with a wind break for a mile or so. “This is great but we’re all going to smell of silage by the time we get home” said the gloveless Igloo Man.
Before we knew it the wind and pace had picked up as we climbed up to Tynan and on to Tullysaron behind the Master Carpenter and The Igloo Man and occasionally Black Rod who pulled us all over the line back to the Moy Square again.
It had been a winy run of 75 miles at a pace to suit all.
Thanks to the muscle in the group the tube was eventually changed about 20 minutes later. Then it was bums on saddles as we followed The Marzipan Man out of The Moy towards Blackwatertown. The Marzipan Man was going well considering he hadn’t been on the saddle since before the festive season. When he had finally finished wishing everyone a “Happy New Year” he began telling stories of his times in Donegal and further afield. The headwind kept the pace civil as the peloton snaked its way through Blackwatertown and towards Tullysaron. Sir Alex was happy to shield us all from the gusts while The Younger Schleck was dreaming of warmer weather and his holidays in France. As for the Master Carpenter he was dreaming of his Sunday dinner which he was planning to have en route and was worrying whether there would be any gravy left by the time we would get to Clones. The Duff was on bridge alert and had cycled the route the night before to make sure there were no bridges that he might hit his head on going under. His other main concern was his packed social diary. After the cycled there was the Liverpool game. Like so many he has bought a Liverpool jersey for the first time now that they have started to win a game or two. After that there was to be a big birthday party so he didn’t want to be out too long in case he wouldn’t get a visa for both.
The Connoisseur was quieter than usual. He had got new pedals and was careful not to fall off. He had slept all Saturday night with his feet in the pedals because they were too tight to get his feet out. “I’m hoping all the traffic lights will be green to day so I don’t have to stop.
Once through Tullysaron it was onwards and upwards towards Monaghan. Once through Monaghan The Younger Schleck used his hairdryer to order everyone to go towards Scotstown which we all near missed when we blinked and then on to Tydavnet and the tea stop in Clones.
There was a smaller Sunday dinner than usual for the Master Craftsman and breakfast baps for Black Rod and The Oil Man. The Oil Man then produced his round apple squares for dessert which went down well with those who got one. The local facilities were in demand as the ladies toilet had a queue of Square Wheelers at it and so did the gents.
At least on the way home the Clones Cyclone was behind us as Barry McGuigan waved goodbye on our way back to Monaghan. “Don’t thank the tail wind” he said, “thank Mr Eastwood.” Sir Alex and The Rushmere Man were happy to stay at the front and lead us all through Monaghan and on to Middletown. A tractor provided us with a wind break for a mile or so. “This is great but we’re all going to smell of silage by the time we get home” said the gloveless Igloo Man.
Before we knew it the wind and pace had picked up as we climbed up to Tynan and on to Tullysaron behind the Master Carpenter and The Igloo Man and occasionally Black Rod who pulled us all over the line back to the Moy Square again.
It had been a winy run of 75 miles at a pace to suit all.