Event - Knight Riders 'epic tale'
by Peter - Page 2
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The Knight Riders - an epic tale of yesteryears.
Day Two
A quiet and subdued four sat around the breakfast table…..’can I ‘ave some more’….came the plaintive cry from Knight Rider 4 (yes it was I…your correspondant)….The Leader doshed out another spoon of gruel in the dish with a cruel leer showing through his day old stubble….(and that was just his almost bald pate!)….’lets see what today brings shall we?’….the long stare finished with an almost imperceptible droop of his empty socketed dead man’s left eye, to Advocate and a nod to Barry ‘The enforcer’ Durman….(who it must be said were feasting on Alpen Luxury Meusli with added cranberry and truffle (white) foie gras, topped with Mary’s Gooseberry & Elderflower Souflee….I could begin to see the merits of being in the gang.
We were ferried in stoney silence to Mungrisdale and mounted our trusty bikes….the day looked promising with white cotton wool clouds in an azure blue sky…having donned my trusty old cycling shorts that matched the sunny orb above us my spirits soared and I roared off in front for the first time that trip…..I just caught the Leaders gruff bark….’it’s the other way you fat pillock’…..shurley not me I thought….
…….I caught them up some 10 miles later after some furious peddling, at a place called Greystoke…hailed to the café by an odd, blood curdling howl…I realised where I had heard that name before…yes our Leader was a long lost relative of Lord Greystoke of Tarzan fame…I could now see why our leader was so hirsuite; except for the glowing bald pate….a familiar sight in the older primate white-backs.
Moving on, after the pathetic sight of the other three Knight Riders fauning and slavering over some female bikists that turned up…pretending to fix some gear problem or was it brakes….it seemed to involve a lot of close proximity work on the saddles….say no more….sad really, I munched away at my third scone, clotted cream and strawberry jam and pondered on the road ahead…
We neared Penrith and passed a beautiful part of the river past Brougham Castle on our way to Langwathby some five miles away…….two hours later and some 20 miles we arrived at said Langwathby, a beautiful café called ‘Brief Encounters’…somewhat apocryphal as Barry ‘The Enforcer’ had been unceremoniously sacked as navigator by the disgruntled leader who had conveniently forgot that he had confidently approved the detour after consulting his GPS.
Still….I maintain that Great Stickland IS a stunning village and despite not stopping at THE most picturesque Pub in England it was worth the extra 14 miles….the downhill ride to visit the outskirts of Centre Parks Oasis to relive Barry’s historic tryst with Rachel did leave a hollow ring after the hill we had just had to climb…but I musn’t be churlish, the heat had gone to another quarter as the Advocate muttered ‘Lions led by Donkeys’…I had an ally at last……
Suitably vittaled, I had a wonderful Tomato soup (fresh) followed by excellent Haddock and Chips……things were going from bad to worse as Barr-Barr ey tucked into a vindaloo… (ah yes…Barr-Barr…you may have thought this title sat better with your correspondent (BFWB) but it is a sad tale I have to recount….after his viscous sacking..Barry’s battered and fragile mind must have become slightly un-hinged (difficult to tell I hear you say….yes but at this close proximity small traits are apparent)…Barry had started talking to the sheep in the fields…’ ‘..snot my fault I lost the map….bastard…one mistake….chop…no I don’t mean you, you lovely little baa-lambs…my only friends’ …we all decide to humour him and nurture him and remarked ‘yes how lovely the little baa lambs are…there..there’ having promised him a boxed set of ‘Listen with Mother…the recut..Andy Pandy meets the Swedish Nurses’ Barry seemed to buck up and we prepared for the long slog up the notorious Hartside Hill (624 meters).
Well of course our Leaders true colours came out…in a sneaky aside he said to Advocate ‘we will take the MANS off-road way and meet you at the café on the top’……what could I say….I couldn’t leave the broken shell of Barry on his own…OK so Barry and I wend our way along the road singing ‘Baa baa black (or other challenged ethnic group of indeterminate skin pigmentation) sheep’ as I administered another shot of valium (to me).
Alas, after three stops to take pictures of cute little baa-lambs gambolling and frolicking in the fields….(bit worrying that lude slavering and glint in barry’s eye!!)….I could take no more and after one last video shot (yes lamb’s in the background)…I bade Barry to go on ahead as a feigned fatigue and said I needed a rest…..two spliffs late (Morrocan Gold….Coventry’s Canley indoor factory’s best) things looked altogether better and I rejoined the happy band at the Café on Hartbrake ridge just as the staff were leaving….happily sharing of spliffs and some crack (don’t go there) meant I left happy as Mavis served me the last cup of tea and there free sandwichs – Egg & Cress, two Tuna mayonnaise…joy. (she was accommodating as well!)
All downhill then to our third night stop at the ample and welcoming bosom of Anne Bramwell…The Post Office at Garrigill, Alston, Cumbria…….are you locals…..she asked as her dancing, black eyes alighted on the intrepid four…..
The night awaited……now read on…..
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