Sunday, 21st April.  Maybe it was the mid-week txt threat of ‘more flesh on show than of late’ or the lack of day-before txt to remind about the Club Ride, but today’s turnout was limited to the hard-core few (seven or so); undaunted by the BBC’s non-committal weather forecast for that morning.  It started out dry, but by the time Aberporth was reached socks were soggy and glasses fogged.  20 minutes further on and the rain had stopped and Spring was attempting a re-appearance; however, the sogginess in the socks had reached the spirits and after an hour and half, the decision was taken to abandon the ride and head home to watch L-B-L.  And wash those bikes that only normally see sunny days...

Sunday, 7th April.  The first Sundaix ride of the summer coincided with one of the greatest Classic race days and came one week after the club trip to Flanders, so spirits were high and the enthusiasm clearly infectious as the already double figure Finch Square gathering were joined by the Aberporth Massive.  The impressive peleton plotted a route via Cilgerran and Boncath to Crymych (no rain), on to Eglwyswrw and thence to Moylegrove for cake ‘n’ slurps.  Collecting more riders on the way (Morning, Neal), the group formed a primary school 2x2 formation with the Heggsmonster being Teacher (having by now stopped bleeding over his bike...) and leading the way, chased down by teaching assistant, Young Tommy K.  LL Cool J was back, as was Glyn and Nic N, the latter astride resplendent celeste blue (nice Bianchi, sir).  Dai S provided the science lecture for the few hours of up, down, up, down (repeat to fade) and the sight of the Moylegrove Garden Centre would have been more welcome had it not been located after the necessary slog via the zig zags on the 25% gradient from the village.  With thick-cut marmalade quaffed and caffeine levels upped, the Emlyn Express departed for Croft and home whilst the Cardi Bach dropped into St.Dogs and onto the Metropolis.  All home in time for the Roubaix spectacle on the tellybox.  Perfick.

Sunday, 24th March.  Oh. My. God. Six layers - count ‘em - and still Spring’s icy tentacles found their way through to form icy testi... Well, you get the picture – there were no girls out today.  But that said, even with rufty tufty types snow-MTBing in North Wales and a range of ‘I can’t make it’ responses to the Club Ride Clarion Call (text message), the morning still saw a near double-digit turn out – hard core mentalists for whom nothing less than 40 miles in Arctic conditions would do.  So that’s what we did, although a wise move may have been to drop from the Trelech-Maudlands road earlier as progress along this stretch into the face of the gnawing easterly was painful at best.  It was a blessed relief to finally grab some warmth (and cake) in Newcastle Emlyn, before the last push home to Cardigan.  And a push home it turned out to be, with the aforementioned wind serving as a helping hand on the nine mile time-trial.  Great to meet Phil today, freshly emerged from his bunker and Young Tommy K, still unfettered by student days (there’s time yet), came out to conduct big-ring challenges throughout the morning.  Evan rode with his faithful companion, Captain Morgan (or was it Navy’s?) for most of the route and it was nice to see Dai wake from his hibernation, although it would seem from his pace today, the dark days of Winter have not been wasted - clearly some training going on somewhere.  Bulgaria’s nomination for furthest-travelled cyclist to join Velo Teifi  also reappeared, clearly not put off by his inaugural ride week before last – we must learn some key Bulgarian phrases for the next ride, you know “It’s your round, Charlie”, “Just the one slice, thanks Charlie”, or even, “How do VTCC go about riding with you back in the Motherland?”.  I feel a planning exercise coming on.  All in all, frozen extremities, snot suspensions and Spring's refusal to play fair did not deter from a reasonable slog around the hills.  It is days like today that will make the warm days of summer seem all the more special... he typed, optimistically.

Sunday, 17th March.  A VTCC flashmob ride for St.Paddy’s day saw a half a dozen or so gather in Boncath for a quick 40 mile canter around Trelech’s nether-regions.  Almost spring-like, but Brechfa’s forestry reminded us winter was only a few miles away.  After Wales’ tremendous performance the night before, the first few miles had a whiff of lager-beer about them, as the previous evening’s exuberance oozed its way through the pores.  Advanced warning: the Heggsmonster has his road bike back, resplendent in Italian azurre; he’s back up to speed – you have been warned.

Sunday, 10th March.  With LL Cool J, Evan the Flat and numerous others being dutiful offspring or ensuring their little ones grow up to be dutiful offspring, it was a reduced crowd of 10 or so that watched the lone rider dressed in black riding the white Specialized pass by the gathered VTCC ensemble in Finch Square without even a nod of acknowledgement or a howdy-doody.  Charming**.  Road-rudeness aside, we again wondered if Velo Teifi’s powers of attraction are gaining a life of their own; we know we invite riders from all over to join, but trekking from Bulgaria does seem excessive.  Not that we weren’t glad to welcome Charlie to the blue and gold fold.  That is, we think his name is Charlie; even though his command of English is light years ahead of our grasp of Bulgarian, the lines of communication mainly comprised of hand gestures and grunting on our part.  Suffice to say, there’s clearly pedigree in them Bulgarian quads, Charlie (seemingly) happy to join in the group effort to Llangrannog via the gruesome coastal climbs. At least, we hope he wasn’t just taking a breather in Finch Square and then felt threatened enough to join the twittering morons that had surrounded him...  And talking of threatening, our chum from Newport showed a new, darker side today.  It was with a sense of shock that we witnessed the bully boy begin to persecute Jav-lar. (Well, not quite Jav-lar – it was a Doppelganger that rode with us today – Grumpy Jav).  Why the bully chose to pick on Grumpy Jav, we don’t know; some form of sweets/playground incident, we think.  Firstly, Gripper Mather demonstrated his method of territory marking (it’s still dripping and oozing from Grumpy Jav’s spokes), this was followed by a blatant exclusion from the gang at the coffee stop (“talk to my back, Pipsqueak”); the finale was hiding Grumpy Jav’s cappuccino from him (“nope, haven’t seen a thing,” smirked Gripper).  Perhaps, revenge was a dish best served furtively though, as just after the climb out of Llangrannog, Gripper realised his front tire had developed a bulge, a defect, a worry-bead for the high speed 10 mile pursuit to Cardigan.  It was at this point that Grumpy Jav disappeared and Jav-lar took his place in the fast-moving pursuit line; the tail wind from Brynhoffnant certainly flattering to deceive as the pace barely dropped below 27-30mph.  All in all, a good, if chilly ride today; some claims of weekly mileage now touching 150miles which bodes well for the forthcoming events and outings of the VTCC Massive.

** Update 16th March.  It has been brought to the News Team's attention that said 'mysterious rider' did, in fact, wave at the VTCC crew; the myopic mob have all been dispatched to Specsavers and accusations of rudeness are unreservedly withdrawn.  Better shout 'hello' next time; the VTCC peleton is not getting any younger and eyesight is generally the first thing to start failing.

Sunday, 3rd March.  Today a VTCC Flashmob assembled at Llechryd Bridge for an impromptu outing.  The assembled mass patiently waited for His Tardiness himself - Carl having underestimated his morning warm-up route by 15mins; as punishment, Maggs snaffled half of his breakfast banana and then set off at speed for Newport.  Maggs’ somewhat dubious claim of needing a head start for the hills was exposed for the underhanded advantage-gaining ploy it was, as Maggs “Bahamontes” Morris whizzed away leaving the group trailing in her wake, taking over 20 minutes to catch her.  With the Eagle of Tresaith hauled in, the group made haste to the Tourist Township but not before Evan’s rear let go again.  No double-entendres needed this week though, AndrooL having found a way to expedite Evan’s hole-plugging efforts at the roadside.  We won’t go into detail, but if the tumbling tinkle trail had reached Evan’s location ‘downstream’, he would have spent the rest of the day riding on his own. Or being followed by a pack of hounds.  Post-coffee break, the group were entertained by Mrs Weston Snr, who duly set-about John with deft kicks and punches for disguising himself in the crowd and hiding from her attentions (the disguise comprising mainly of removed glasses).  With John suitably admonished by Mum and the group suitably entertained by the spectacle of an 80-something year old demonstrating more personality and vigour than, frankly, an octogenarian has any right to, the group departed for the sprint back to Cardigan.  Again, Bahamontes took flight, the main group finding her in the depths of Glanrhyd after a bit of Ioan-led search, convinced she’d plunged in Moylegrove by mistake.  Not so, and thus the Eagle joined in the 40mph+ sprint back to town.  All this after three hours of mudplugging yesterday – never trust anyone in pink who claim they need “a few minutes head start”; Giro riders be warned.

Sunday, 24th February. And we're back.  Today’s ride write up is brought to you by the word “Double”...  Today there were double-figure applications to join AndrooL in the elite ranks of HMoC*.  A few ventured out earlier than the published meet time and, frankly, they paid a price for that if they hadn’t doubled up on the glove-per-hand count.  Brrrr!  ‘Kin freezing it was.  With the masses assembled for 1030hrs, Finch Square resembled a holding pen for thoroughbred race horses on a cold Aintree morning - breath clouds, stamping feet and some sweaty necks was the spectacle; the lack of protruding teeth, flappy lips and dung piles meant the VTCC equine impression fell short enough for cyclists to be recognisable in the condensing air vortexes.  Only just though.  The ride itself set off to Bridell, Eglwswrw, Crymych, Hermon and on to Glogue, the descent into which saw the temperature drop further – a portent of doom?  A forewarning of evil?  Llechryd John - a.k.a. Ll ‘Cooled’ J – thought so as fear gripped him and he threw himself into the scenery.  Or was it a gradient/lack of traction combo?  Anyway, escaping Glogue’s icy clutches, Team HMoC chattered their way to Boncath (chattered as in ‘teeth’ not as in ‘witty banter’), where the NCE massive veered towards home, the Blaenffos crew took their leave too, leaving the Cardi’s to huddle into a tight, warmth-seeking pack for the run back to the Metropolis.  Apart from Ll Cooled J’s hedge excursion, there was only one other mishap as Evan’s rear let go of its retained air.  Once we’d established the hissing was, in fact, coming from his tyre, the group sprang into action, forming a perfect half-circle around Evan so that his approach to fixing punctures might be criticised from every angle.  Fortunately for Evan, the Heggs Monster is clearly in receipt of a better upbringing than the rest of the group and Mr Manners set about Evan’s rim with gusto...

 *Hard Man of Cycling

Sunday, 13th January. A thing of beauty, elegance and grace; the VTCC 10-man (and woman) group that rode in 5x2 harmony from Cardigan to Eglwyswrw to Boncath, cutting a Velo Teifi-coloured dash through North Pembrokeshire with most turning out in full kit courtesy of Mr Claus, in some instances.  Even Santa likes this club.  The group moved at pace once Liz and Janice realised the lead pair could be driven like sled dogs; with this energy-efficient approach to the ride, it was no surprise that the climbs from Bridell to Eglwyswrw and Boncath to Bwlch y Groes saw our ladies maintain contact all the way to the top – very impressive.  Less impressive was the discovery of a five year old energy bar strapped to a top tube with electrical tape; Dr R was suitably admonished.  The Club Ride Rules have now been amended to ensure appropriate conduct, behaviours and style are maintained at all time – jeez, this isn’t Towy Riders y’know.  This minor misdemeanour aside [Minor?  Serious enough to up-issue the Ride Rules – Ed], credit and respect is due to the double-digit turnout today because it was chuffin’ freezing at meeting time of 1030hrs and not much warmer at 1330hrs when the group returned to Cardigan; tough guys (and gals) these Velo Teifians.  Neal’s attempt to thwart the onset of brainfreeze utilised some form of Kermit the Frog hat under his helmet; he maintained it was a vintage thermal cycling cap; all the group could see was a lurid green covering with giant bulging eyeballs atop his bonce, however.  It was with a sigh of relief that the group observed the Heggs Monster’s slick-shod mountain bike steed today – took at least 10mph of his cruising speed, allowing the rest of the group to breath normally for a change.  Heggs’ usual mount is with Brian Rourke (look him up, kids) for fettling and its return is eagerly anticipated.  By Alan.  The rest of the group are happy for the rest.  Evan’s early-morning enthusiasm had worn off by the time the NCE windmills were reached, but this wasn’t a problem as he tucked in and led the sweeping 30mph+ descent back into the mighty Emlyn where several minutes were taken to chip off the nose-icles and frozen snot-rockets.  Brrrr.   Winter.  Gotta love it. 

Sunday, 30th December. Again, something happened.  The VTCC News Room knows this because his phone rang too many times to ignore.  But beyond this teasing hint of cycling goings-on, information is sparce.  The same Dirty Dozen out again with their dirty little secrets?

Sunday, 23rd December. Something happened.  It involved at least a dozen people.  But that's it - no further information has been made available to the VTCC News Room.  Secretive bunch, them 12.

Sunday, 9th December.  Quote of the day: “You can tell who the drinkers are in this club...”, a casual remark by the increasingly witty ex-local, Ajax Evans, as he observed the complete lack of ladeez present on this morning’s club run.  Probably a good thing as any more on the ride would have necessitated road-widening in certain parts, such were the numbers out this morning for the post-Christmas Dinner Turkey Burp ride.  Great to see Fast Wayne out today; less good was watching him set off to walk the three miles back to Cardigan after snapping his handlebars (too much upper body strength that boy.  A beast.).  Dai’s kind offer of lending The Beast his van to get home may have resulted in missing vehicle controls (notably the steering wheel) as The Beast manhandled the truck home, but this detail remains to be confirmed at this time.  The remaining dozen or so set off to Newport in a cloudy haze of turkey-gravy gas with red wine sodden brain cells sending conflicting messages about putting effort in to respective leg muscles .  Several hours later, having sweated out most of the night before’s excesses, we returned home safe in the knowledge it would be at least another year before the ride would be accompanied by the sweet scent of a large bird from the genus Meleagris. And gravy.

Sunday, 11th November.  Once again, we’re not going to speak of double figure turnouts (even though it happened), we’ll just focus on the ride details.  And these comprised a run via Mwnt to Aberporth, onto Tresaith, Penbryn and down to our favourite suburb of Birmingham for coffee, cakes and digger-spotting (other forms of plant were also available).  The rules of Club Rides were broadly adhered to, although the run back from Brynhoffnant did see The Heggs Monster charge off, taunting those determined to keep the group together to the bitter end. Ah well, it was beginning to rain and people did want to get home – so off we sped chasing Heggs’ rear wheel and a veritable pace was maintained to Gogerddan, with only a little handlebar chewing.  Thereafter it was a blur.  Mainly due to the sh*te weather that set about our spirits, glasses, mechanicals and any remaining dry spots we thought we might preserve till home time.  Moist.

Sunday, 11th November.  Right, we’re getting bored of quoting ‘double figure turnouts’ each Sunday, so for this week we’re not going to mention that there was another double figure turnout, ok?  Our diversion from the numbers is good as there is much to record from today’s ride.  Firstly, the weathermen lied.  There were some horrendous downpours around today and the Aberporth Quintet seemed to have ridden through most of them before joining the main throng in Finch Square.  Led in (by some margin) by Mike ‘the Beast’, his quadruplet of moist straggledom squelched along behind in various moods of enthusiasm.  It’s fair to say Howard looked the most fed-up; but very snug in a borrowed rain jacket.  The assembled crew were treated to a veritable charm offensive from Mine Hosts of the Lamb Inn as, firstly, they attempted to part the cyclist sea with the bumper of their Transit Sharabang, happily nudging the Jav-lar some two or three feet in an attempt to make Jav feel more like a pro-cyclist a la Brad or Shane Sutton, it seems.  Once challenged (quite justifiably), the fine figures of manhood that comprised the Sharabang pilot and his co-moron accused the cyclist gathering of ‘parking’ on a public highway and, thus, three tonnes of vehicle (just one tonne if we discount the Blobby Boys) was quite within its rights to attempt murder.  There was no point arguing as clearly reasoned communication was not Shirley Crabtree’s first language.  So to the ride.  The Aberporth Five decided their near drowning was enough excitement for one morning and headed for home whilst the peloton set off for Cilgerran, Abercych, Boncath, Eglws.. Eglswss... that place, Croft and down to Poppit for the finest and most exquisite lemon meringue pie, it is possible, that has ever been made.  Lamb Inn / Poppit Cafe... compare and contrast.  Hmmmm...  Great to see Glyn out and welcome to Blaenwaun Tom; with Colin escorting the group at the beginning the first few miles were soon despatched.  Andrew and Jav-lar ducked out early; rumours of Jav nipping back to town for a quiet pint at the Lamb have not been confirmed.  The most surprising thing of the morning?  The main group skilfully avoiding the worst of any rain showers; oh yes, step forward you righteous souls!  The only hint of moisture appeared on the run-in to Boncath, but a quick acceleration soon saw blue skies return as the group gave chase to a lonesome triathlete on the A487.  It could only happen on a Velo Teifi club run, folks!

Sunday, 4th November.  Omigosh part II.  Another double-digit turnout on a damp but promising morning; organised by the proletariat (I didn’t call them Plebs, M’lud) nonetheless – does this signal an end in sight for the dictatorial Davies-regime of coercion and beating to get people riding their bikes?  A start of a democracy in the West Wales cycling fraternity?  “Anything to stop the interminable txt msgs,” was the morning chant.  Great to see Eleri and Maggs, bolstering the ladeez count by 100% and helping to form a frankly intimidating girlie peloton within the main group.  They can be quite intimidating, you know.  Young Matt promises to be part of the future for VTCC; he manfully handled the climbs today and positively beasted the run back to Cardigan, passing the seniors all the way to Llechryd like he was on a 10-mile time trial effort.  Neal’s bike continues to emit all sorts of noises not dissimilar to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory; in fact, at one point we were convinced some form of cocoa-tinged baked product was going to pop out of the frame for all to marvel over.  However, joined again by Alan “70’s downtube shifters work just fine, thank you”, the Beast of Brongest, Neal and the Willy Wonka Frameset set the pace for most of the morning.  Good to see Dr Brian out; resplendent in Ninja-balaclava, power-gels always to hand (frame).  After fixing his snapped chain (thank you, Llechryd Jon, for the chain splitter and for being the only properly equipped cyclist out today) Evan swore it was running smoother than before as the group streaked a long loop to NCE for coffee and sickly pastries.  Burp.  Only one sour point of note today... Liz.  Those mud guards.  Really?  You wouldn’t fit mud flaps to a Ferrari.  I rest my case (but not my deep prejudice against mudguards on racing bikes).  May this autumnal enthusiasm become the new driving force for VTCC. How very exciting it is.

Sunday, 28th October.  Omigosh.  Where to start? Double figure turn out on a damp and dismal October day - what has become of this club?  Even Mrs Chairman turned up!  So, a well-paced ride to Newport via St. Dogmaels was the collective decision (democracy rocks).  Janice and Liz set the pace, Neal’s Merckx-era velocipede squeaked its way along, closely followed by newcomer Alan displaying a fine pair or down-tube mounted shifters so that Neal wouldn’t feel too lonely in his retro world (even sported a club jersey v2.0 to complete the historical perspective).  Snot-rocket award of the day went to Mrs Chairman (filthy marathon runner’s habit), as did Lead Out of the Day award, as the aforementioned mucus maestro stormed the Newport flats leading the group at 22+mph (not bad for her second ride of the year).  However, her 30+mph passing of Mr Chairman on a downhill in torrential rain hinted at a previously-hidden but now released fearlessness; Mr Chairman left muttering something about grit in the eye, or something... Great to see Dai W out and also first timer ‘Llechryd John’ joining in the fun.  I could go on, but suffice to say, such was the enthusiasm for muck, grit and grime today that another ride has been arranged for next Sunday.  Holy moly.

Sunday, 9th September.  At last, an awayday not spoiled by the weather monster.  Given the strong headwind, it was necessary for Team VTCC to form a working line of through and off’s to make progress down to  Pendine; remarkably efficient it was too meaning a timely arrival at the coffee stop after a mere 70 minutes or so.  Clearly helped by the Jav-lar’s approach to ‘through and clearing off’, resulting in the rest of us beasting ourselves to get back in his wheel just time to resume a stint at the front.  “Think of the training effect,” was the thought.  Think of the vomit effect more like.  The route back took in Red Roses, Tavernspite, Whitland and then some wilds of Carmarthenshire/Pembrokeshire that eventually emerged in Llanglydwen.  The now-welcome tailwind was countered somewhat by the ‘undulating’ nature of the return route, eventually spitting us out in Llanfyrnach and then onto Crymych where, most remarkably of all, it wasn’t raining.  In fact, a dry 50 miles was the order of the day; perhaps an Indian summer of cycling lies ahead...

Sunday, 26th August.  Last of the Summer Whine?  After several  weekends of mud-plugging, it was nice to get back on to the blacktop again.  And today we were joined by our erstwhile chum and now Newport-based (“you knows it”) Big D, which was nice; hearing him grunting and squeaking up the climbs was something we’d all been missing.  But why he was dressed as a riding advertisement for some 70’s scouring powder, we weren’t sure.   Hmmm, allegiances seem to be shifting but nice that he keeps VTCC membership too – a mark of respect.  Anyways, cracking Bank Holiday Sunday weather saw a route from NCE via some obscure Lindsay-led back lanes/climbs/crawls to Ffostrasol and on to our favourite Brummie suburb for espressos and Baywatch.  Some 50 miles on the clock at home time.  With the disappointment of numerous cancelled rides due to weather, we wondered if today was an apparition, a blip in the scheme of scummy Sundays?  Only time will tell.

Sunday, 29th July.  After yesterday morning's good turnout but lacklustre efforts (all too excited about the upcoming Oly Road Road)  this morning saw suitable amends being made.  Cardigan-Cilgerran-Boncath-Abercych-Trelech-NCE and Cenarth for coffee and obscenely overloaded cream scones!  As we crammed our faces, the semi-pro Carmarthen racing outfit TRCC tracked by, but fortunately he didn't see our lapse into less-than-suitable dietary habits.  A finishing  flourish saw the group covering between 40 and 60 miles (depending on starting point), which reflected both a fine weather day and guilt-complexes regarding dairy product consumption..  Bring on August, but with less double cream, please.

Sunday, 22nd July.  Sorry to the avid followers of this page - we've been remiss in our updates this summer.  Suffice to say, today was scorchio, the ride some 50 miles or so ending in Poppit Cafe (our new fave).  Top marks to Rob J for digging deep today; that is to say, putting up with Robin all morning; the riding was easy.

Sunday, 20th May.  Beaut of a day today saw VTCC welcome newbie Rob to the fold.  It also saw Fast Wayne arrive riding a “Molly” child’s bike – pink, little basket but no stabilisers. Some form of bet apparently, but not so much of a bet that would see him ride ‘Little Molly’ on the chosen route around the minor roads of Trelech and Cwm Morgan, around the windmills and then a 47mph dash down to Drefach for coffee at the Woollen Mill (courtesy of Rob – we’re liking him more and more).   And that’s a mill for woollen goods, not a mill made of wool.  Just to be clear.

Sunday, 13th May.  Lovely route today from Carmarthen to Llandeilo, off to Glynaman, Brynaman, Amanegg, Amanchips... over the Black Mountains to Llangadog and back to Carmarthen; some 60 or so miles.  The route out was at pace with everyone feeling fit and fresh, but the return journey revealed the truth behind our perceived early-morning strength as the headwind hit us in Llangadog and tried to prevent us making it back to the cars.  Suffice to say, VTCC prevailed and we were in the cars by 1245 and home in time for the Giro.  We will return to this area soon, as the potential routes in and around Llandeilo-Ammanford-Cross Hands are numerous and Co-Chairman Lindsay has offered to navigate, he having intimate knowledge of the area; his short-wearing, tree-climbing, girl-chasing formative years were spent in this locale.  Over to you then, good sir...

Sunday, 15th April.  Sound recordings from today would include:
“Arghhhh” (Jav-lar, aka Sylvain Chavenal, has hit the front and is accelerating.  Again.)
“Phew” (BigH, aka Bernie Eisal, has hit the front and we’re tucked in nicely behind.)
“Gnash Growl Grrrr” (RogerG is attacking again. And again.)
“Crunch Ping” (Bernie Eisal’s chain has snapped)
“Uhhhhhh” (the last five miles at pace are hurting)
“Whoooooshh” (a working line maintaining almost 30mph for three miles!)
“Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow” (hailstones hitting cheeks)
With a coffee and Belgian waffle stop taken at Whitesands today, the route saw somewhere between 50 and 60 miles (depending on where you started from) covered in mostly fair weather (bullet-like hailstorm notwithstanding).  Cracking roads coupled with a great group ride (once Jav-lar was convinced to wait for the rest of us) made for rapid progress with minimal ‘nastiness’; apart from, that is, Jav-lar’s delay in offering tissue wipes for oily fingers – only making them apparent once road-side mechanics had spend five minutes wiping fingers in grassy banks in a vain attempt to avoid soiling shiny new white bar tape.  How we laughed.

Sunday, 6th April.  Easter brought out the good eggs from Crymych today - great to see Janice, Max and the gang; not so nice however, was their chosen route around the tough climbs of St.Dogs and a proper wiggly route via Boncath back to Blaenffos.  We tried to look cool and composed for the assembled ladeez, inside, however, we were screaming as this was BigD's third day of excessive mileage and catching-up with the West Wales crew; tired legs all around.  Go back to South Wales, damn you.  But seriously, it was quite nice to see the ol' feller again!  I suppose.

Sunday, 25th March.  Stonking.  The only word to describe today’s ride.  An assault on the 76 mile Preseli Angel route, less a few miles to allow for lives, families and general non-cycling activities on a Sunday, was the order of the morning.    A 0930hrs start in Parrog, only slightly delayed due to tardy co-Chairman, saw the first club gathering in British Summer Time for 2012.  Accompanied by beautiful weather, some flashes of flesh, beads of sweat and a 55 mile ride with 6000 feet of climbing (according to the technically gifted amongst us today), the goodly sized group maintained a good pace all morning, returning to Newport for munchies at lunchtime. May all future rides be as delightful as today’s.

Sunday, 11th March. Spring has sprung.  The fine weather saw the club ride numbers swell well into double figures today, boosted by the presence of Team Aberporth who were being led (at pace) by Bubba Jones, whilst the others recovered from Six Nations excesses.  Clinging to Jones’ wheel, the group sprinted along the Teifi Valley until such time that the A[berporth]-Team decided homes and family commitments were calling, at which point the group split into two with the remainder lurching off into the countryside and emerging at Poppit for coffee ‘n’ buns; and to screw Wayne back together again.  Nice to see the return of Mr Digby – welcome back, fella.

Sunday, 26th February. What a grand day out, Gromit.  The Parrog at 0930hrs saw the first guinea pigs for the Preseli Angel 40 mile route emerge from their hutches, twitching whiskers and raring to go.  Joined by both the Fishguard and Newport Massives, the group set out wondering what the giant yellow orb in the sky might be; it’s been a while.  With a few members still suffering from the previous night’s Forster celebrations, the early climbs were a cacophony of Guinness-burps, Prosecco-parps and general near-vomit moments.  It is clear that the 40 mile route is going to test some folk with steady climbs in the early stages leading to the suffer-fest crawl up to Bwlch y Gwnt which today, we shared with our chums from Tenby Aces.  The descent is a 50mph masterpiece however, but the last loop around Nevern is just plain mean.  Back to Newport for tea and cake it was then and evidence of the barter system that runs the township, as locals negotiated for cake in the absence of any actual hard currency.  Captured comments about the new Preseli Angel route:

“Great route, but some heavy-feeling roads will catch you unawares in places,” AL.

“I’d forgotten about that main climb – ouch,” TK.

“It’s hard to ride a De Rosa without looking a n*b,” RG.

“...and a loop around Nevern?  Eek!” AM.

“If that car hadn’t been there I’d have topped 52mph,” Various.

“He’s a lovely bloke, Carl.  Can do no wrong,”  Carl’s mum.

Sunday, 19th February.  Great turn out today for a run from NCE to Poppit via Cilgerran, Eglws..., Eglwsw... that place and back again.  Interesting points to note: Dai clearly needs the help of his wife when dressing of a morning; Young Tommy K does have off days; the Newport Massive are getting stronger; a tail-wind from Cardigan to NCE can take 5 minutes off your best time and Poppit Cafe is a great meeting place for the non-riders and other halves (hello everyone that came out today).  Things are looking up.

Sunday, 22nd January.  “Arrange it and they will come” to para-phrase some film about corn and baseball.  And so it was this morning as club members from all points of the compass, emerging from their winter-slumber, converged on NCE.  A slightly longer route than intended (thank you Andrew L) saw a canter to Llandysul, back lanes to Capel Dewi, Talgarreg and Plwmp, before diving down to Solihull Minor for coffee and cake.  One man vs. horse incident to report; no-one hurt, but a little bit of rubber left on the road and a little bit of the [bike] rider left in his shorts.  Suffice to say it was touch and go whether Horse-limbo was going to be order of the day, but with some shouting, minor hysterics and a dive down the gutter-line, disaster was averted.  60 miles covered today – that’ll do nicely, ta very big.  The Aberporth massive was reduced to one today it seems, cutting a lonely figure he was too – has there been a falling-out we wondered?

Sunday, 15th January.  With heavy legs from Saturday's training efforts, today was a slog for some.  First of the Coffee Runs saw us dashing for Llangrannog (oh yeah - that's really conducive to resting tired legs... moan, moan, moan) against what felt like a multi-directional headwind.  We all arrived safely and the 'you take the high road, I'll take the low road' approach seemed to work OK with a relatively good-quality 40 miles or so completed.  One near-death experience to report as Mr-Beardy-Pipe-Smoking-Probably-Myopic-Fiat-Driving-Tw*t attempted to turn accross the path of Johnny Hoogerland at the Tesco's junction in Cardigan; suffice to say his error in judgement was pointed out to him.

Sunday, 8th January.  “...Just the two of us;
We can make it if we try;
Just the two of us.
Just the two of us;
Building castles in the sky.
Just the two of us,
You and I...”

And so it was this morning as Smiffy and I cracked off a couple of hours in the absence of anyone else. Bit damp to start, but soon brightened up, as promised by Derek the Weather.  As is now common place, we saw the exclusive Aberporth Cycling Club going their own way; as usual, the opposite way to Velo Teifi.

Tuesday, 27th December.  Not technically a Sunday, I know [not actually a sunday - Ed], but the holiday enthusiasm was evident today.  The festive season had clearly laid a heavy guilt trip on club members as this morning’s ride saw not one, not two but three groups on the road; each group being self-selecting based on a complicated formula of turkey consumption divided by a sherry schooner differential, integrated by the cubed root of the mince pie consumptive fractal index.  Suffice to say, we were all “burpin’ turkey”.   With most members opting to ride to NCE (as opposed to driving there and parking around the corner, then sprinting two hundred yards to generate an impression of perceived effort in getting to the meeting point), the chosen route to our favourite suburb of Birmingham was met with a few groans and, yes, a slight whiff of gravy.  Two groups managed to get to Llangrannog safely where we were met with not a hint of Black Country accents; how refreshing.  With espressos and cake quaffed, Team VT made one of the slowest ascents from Lesser Solihull, heading to respective homes for more leftovers, no doubt.  Burpin’ turkey, folks.  Burpin’ Turkey.
Sunday, 18th December.  Getting up on a grey, blustery December morning is hard enough sometimes; getting up to go and ride a bicycle for ‘fun’ even more so.  Add to the mix the previous night out with Cardigan Running Club and the essential viewing of the excellent Hammer film “The Gorgon” when you get in at 1 a.m.  and this morning’s reveille was particularly troublesome.
“Oooh, it’s hard,” I muttered to no-one in particular at silly o’clock when I awoke.
“Not now dear, it’s too early,” replied my semi-Sleeping Beauty.
Obviously, I was referring to the challenge outlined at the start of this blurb, but it was good to know that no other options for morning entertainment were available to me.  So off I trotted for a pre-ride ride before the 0930hrs meet.
Slimy roads, road salt, drippy noses and snot-rockets were to be the order of the day.  Wrapped up like Nanook, with Ninja-like eye slits, Davies-san was quite perky today, blathering on about how only riding once a month was transforming his riding...  He was left to his own devices and the Club Ride duly set about the roads from Cardigan to Bridell to Eglws... Eglwsw... That Place to Crymych to Crosswell to Brynberian and on to Newport for espressos and nose wipes.  Returning via Nevern and Croft to Cardigan, it wasn’t too bad a ride considering.  No rain, no ice, no snow but windy.  Overall, worth getting up for.  Probably. 

Sunday, 30th October.  Lazy Davies struggled today.  His self-imposed ‘month of rest’ (read: lethargy and cake) had left him bereft of any ability to propel his bicycle with any form of forward motion.  Hills were definitely out of the equation today. As it was for Smiffy who, having returned from a sojourn with Cav and his missus (yes, that Cav and yes, really) in the gloriously opulent surroundings of Dubai, agreed that hot days of Cav-spotting had taken their toll and a flat route was the order of the day.  Cleary sympathetic to the plaintive cries, the group set out from Cenarth and up the first hill then down to Abercych.  Then up the next hill to Carreg Wen before looping back to Abercych to meet up with the [late arriving] Yo-ster and onto the suffer-fest that is the climb from the Fox & Hounds.  It was then a continuing tale of down dale and o’er hill before Lazy D capitulated at Boncath and made a break for home.  Fortunately, Jav-lar provided the lead-out thus ensuring that Pitiful D didn’t just fall into a ditch and sleep a bit.  An inauspicious start to winter riding then, with Dozey D promising to do better next time.  There was one highlight however: Janey K’s unplanned dismount with 360 loop, double back flip and forward roll, performed just outside the Cenarth Post Office in front of at least 50 aghast onlookers.  Nobody actually saw this, but we believe that’s exactly what happened.  

Sunday, 11th September.  Climachx.  Mmmm, gnarly.  Completely worth an hour and a bit drive.  Setting off at 0700ish from various starting points, the VTCC knobblies rendezvoused bright and breezy in a very quiet Machynlleth town centre before descending on Ceinws City and the Climachx’s starting area.  Pulling on appropriate gear and readying themselves for a few hours of trail bashing, tyre slashing, rock hopping, drop-off leaping, board running, berm burning and mud splashing, the crew were taken with young Tommy K’s Pulp Fiction-inspired Banksy-artwork t-shirt.  Pulp what?  Came the youngster's honest reply. Oh dear, the tone was set for the day.   “...Say 'what' again. Say 'what' again, I dare you, I double dare you m*********r, say what one more Goddamn time!” (Jules, 1994).  Slightly taken aback by the joint onslaught, Tommy K led the way up the first climb looking a bit bemused.  Having climbed this before, we asked Tommy how long the first climb would take... our response?  “That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten...” (The Wolf, 1994).  Eh? Nevermind, Tom, just keep going. The first puncture struck after 15 mins, “...Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' a little p*ssed here...” (Jules, 1994) quoted the victim.  Tom didn’t flinch.  Nearing the top of the climb the team were going well, stopping for brief respite before the first bit of fun, someone asked if everyone was OK..., “...Yeah, we cool. Two things. Don't tell nobody about this. This shit is between me, you, and Mr. Soon-To-Be-Living-The-Rest-of-His-Short-Ass-Life-In-Agonizing-Pain Rapist here. It ain't nobody else's business....” (Marsellus, 1994).  Tom’s grin was strained; confused even.  Shortly after, Carl’s first puncture hit.  Damnit, what now, the plaintive enquired  “...What now? Let me tell you what now. I'm a call a coupla hard, pipe-hittin' n*ggers, who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'ma get medieval on your ass..”  (Marsellus, 1994).  We were on a roll now, in every sense of the word.  Eventually, the group reached the summit and the start of the last (and claimed longest in Wales) single track descent to the cars.  Big H picked up and then fixed his puncture and the great descent began.  Outstanding, natural-featured, single track thrash down – fantastic, and upon arrival back at the cars the call went out – “let’s do it again!”.  Damn the spirited youth amongst us.  The second drop down the final descent was as good as the first, except for Carl who had his second puncture and, out of quotes, he just got on and fixed it.  A great day was rounded off in Mach with a spot of lunch with the Senior citizens (all of them, it seemed) of the town – “ooh, they do a lovely roast here, they do.  My George loves coming here on a Sunday... Is that your motorcycle?”  Uh oh....
“...It's a chopper, baby.
Whose chopper is this?
It's Zed's.
Who's Zed?
Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead...” (Butch and Fabienne, 1994)  

Sunday 4th September.  Has the summer really passed us by without any witty write-ups of Sunday Shananigans?  Well, the trend continues then...  This morning saw a goodly sized group clearly clinging to the last bastions of summer; even Johnny Hoogerland removed the bubblewrap from the De Rosa and ventured out (it did take him 2 hours to get to Cenarth though – “avoiding damp patches” apparently).  The morning also saw the ladies turning out to show off their summer training effects – the boys knew they were in trouble when the mention of ‘Paintball Hill’ barely raised an eyebrow amongst the VT girls...  The route included the aforementioned hill as a legwarmer, a run across the top ridge up to the windmills and the decision was taken to dive down to Felindre for some wool at the tea mill, sorry, tea at the woollen mill.  And what a gosh-darn zippy descent it is from ‘5 roads’ down to said village.  50+ mph and a little ‘uneven’, diving into damp tree-covered dodginess – extremely entertaining.  It was even more entertaining for those whose saddle-packs decided to work loose and fling themselves into the rear wheel at said silly speeds.  How Dr. L stayed upright is anyone’s guess (although he’ll make some trite comment about bike handling ability, experience and fearlessness), suffice to say as Tommy K and Cynan were gaining speed wondering why the Colnago-mounted hero was apparently ‘offloading unwanted kit’, our ashen-faced, sphincter-flapping, Beaker-impersonating chum was desperately trying not to earn his “Planet Hoogerland” t-shirt by landing in a nearby field, wrapped in barbed wire.  He managed it.  Just.  Expensive wheel repairs to follow however, methinks.  So tea and munchies were taken in t’mill (special vernacular for Robin) and the ride home began – a dangerous ride home with the mesmerising effect of Dr.L’s wobbly rear wheel threatening to put followers into a trance-like state.  Did I mention ‘expensive repairs’?

Sunday 29th May.  A select group today enjoyed a re-run of a previously curtailed ride that took in Cardigan – Pen y Bryn – Cilgerran – Boncath – Mordor – Eglws.. Eglwswr... that place – Croft and down to Poppit to our new favourite cafe.  Reasonable weather but still with the gosh-darn blustery wind saw the peleton echelon-ing everywhere and the run through Mordor (Crymych) saw the less hardy don the shower jackets (hello Carl).  With the dampness behind us, the group sped away from Sauron’s all-seeing eye and back to the relative warmth and safety of the seaside for espressos and fizzy pop.  Special hello to Cheltenham Owen who joined us today; hope to see more of him over the coming months.  No special mention to Young Tommy K who, once again, inflicted pain on most climbs.  Git.

Sunday 27th March.  OK, so not an 'official' club ride, but a ride with club members, nonetheless.  The chronological competency of Dr L was immediately called into question when it turned out he had forgotton to put his clocks forward - or was it back..??  Anyway, once assembled, we left Llechryd bridge with visiting rider Andy T and headed towards Cenarth to intercept the aforementioned latecomer, before heading towards Abercych, Carreg Wen, Newchapel and Boncath.  We then followed the sportive route towards Crosswell and on to Newport.  Andrew S collected his first puncture in two years on the dodgy descent just past the Crosswell junction (the road really has gone to pot, down there), but quickly sorted before coffee and cakes in one of the finest and friendliest cafes in the area.  Home via Pantgwyn and Croft.  Good weather, light winds and spring is definitely on the way.  Hope Andy enjoyed the ride, too...

Sunday, 20th March.   Double figures!  That's more like it.  Organiser Al had laid on a mapped out, detailed, printed route for all to follow (how organised is this man?) which saw the VT peleton climb to Boncath, positively pace to Newchapel, descend likeVincenzo Nibali to Abercych and generally scorch a looping route back to Aberteifi.  Led, in most part, by the London-Paris Ladies all of whom, it was noted, seemed to be riding shiny new carbon steeds.  Blimey them girls can move now; very impressive.  And slightly intimidating.  Anyway, my inferiority complex aside, tea, coffee and not insubstantial portions of cheesecakey/apple pie shaped things with lashings of cream were consumed at Priory Cafe; clearly the team were carbo-loading for the route(s) home.  Young Tom seems to be finding form again after the beating received on the Daffodil Ride at the hands [legs] of Andrew L and Carl (both Carl and Andrew have now exaggerated this Pyrrhic victory out of all proportion, by the way); have the aforementioned forty-somethings peaked too early?  Is a Korowski Kicking on its way?  As I type, I can feel the pain to be inflicted... Oh dear.

Sunday, 31st October.   I’m not kidding you... the Godfather of Soul was with us today.  “Ow... Can I take it to the bridge?  Huh!...”  Well, a slightly more pasty-faced namesake perhaps, with a proper ability to scale local hills it seems.  Welcome James. Following Mr Brown's tyre tracks, the assembled group tackled the hilly Cardigan – St.Dogs – Monnington - Ceibwr  - Newport – Crosswell – Boncath route today, with peppermint tea and egg banjos taken in the friendliest cafe in Pembrokeshire; they even welcome dogs, so there was no need to tether Cynan outside.

Sunday, 24th October.  Descending into Newcastle Emlyn to meet the VT crew, the Teifi Valley fog enveloped me causing an interesting droplet formation on my sunnies as I juddered and skitted into Cwm Cou corner.  A strange sense of forboding washed over me.  No longer using conventional means of navigation and bend negotiation, you know - some overrated sense such as eyesight, I employed The Force to ensure my safe passage... there was at least 5 inches between the upcoming van and my right elbow, what was all the fuss about?  With this near-death experience behind me, I wondered what other excitement the day might bring or what other horrors were lurking in the oppressing Fog?  Upon arrival at the meeting point, all negative thoughts were dispelled and spirits were raised at the sheer number of slightly chilled looking bikies, lurking in the mist, waiting for the off.  Gosh.  Feelings of general well-being were further elevated when the perfumed nature of the immediate environs of said bikies was discovered; either the boys had, at long last, discovered Lifebuoy, or there were ladies in our mist... [geddit?].  Sorry.  Anyway, barely able to contain our excitement that a breakaway faction from VT Ladies Inc. had ordained to join us, we duly set off with the intent of climbing to altitude like some form of gold and blue airliner and breaking free of our murky, oppressive and somewhat sinister surroundings.  Not before Mags had closely inspected the road surface, however.  Worried about icing? Dropped  5p?  Attention seeking?  Who knows?  But she gave that tarmac a jolly good close-up looking at.  With the highway passed as fit for purpose, the now-trailing Mags Support Team set off in pursuit of the Peloton that were fairly whizzing up hill and down dale, led, it seems, by a decidedly sporty female contingent.  We prayed they’d ease off to enable the male egos to recover and our little chests to re-inflate.  Fat chance.  Clear of the mist, the group enjoyed stunning views of the Teifi Valley as it showed off its cotton wool filling for as far as the eye could see.  A canter along the ridgeline from Newcastle Emlyn to the windmills, down to Rhos and over the main road to follow Roman Road, we dropped like speeding bullets into Llandysul and began a search for tea ‘n’ munchies.  Nothing, nada, dim byd.  Back to NCE it was then.  At this point the ride took a dark turn, well, a right turn in Pentrecwrt at any rate...  Behind us, Mr Hesitant, following in [too] close formation in one of Ellesmere Port’s finest, decided to attempt a somewhat ill-judged over-taking manoeuvre.  As the Astra spluttered forward, Team VT (already positioned to turn right) turned right.  Mr Hesitant became Mr Decisive and braked.  Hard.  Mr Decisive nee Hesitant became Mr Excited and decided to inform the group of his recent persona change.  Oh dear.  He had not reckoned with Dr Jekyll and, more pertinently, Mr Hyde.  Irked at the chameleon-like car driver, Mr Hyde joined battle.  Truly, a beast had been unleashed and Mr Hyde set about the driver with gusto.  Summoning inner-reserves of vitriol and bile not seen in these parts since Belzebub was banished from whence he came, our champion chewed up Mr Gibbering (another quick change, it seems) and royally spat out his masticated gizzards and giblets.  Not satisfied with the verbal onslaught alone, our hero employed a special version of a two-handed salute to Mr Gobsmacked who was by now changing moods quicker than a schizophrenic on acid.  At the point that our gallant knight in blue and gold lycra/armour raised his two arms, fingers contorted into claws, and balanced himself on one leg, assuming the Fighting Crow position, we decided enough was enough and, having gotten Dr Jekyll to return to us, we headed off for some cake.  Something strange happened today.  Not just the predominance of female form on the ride, but a creeping malevolence that seemingly manifested through the unlikely form of normally mild mannered Dr Jekyll.  Was there something in the Fog that morning that had affected the community?  Was this a John Carpenter-film homage too far?  Who knows readers, who knows...

Sunday, 25th July.  Allan M - what an organiser, what a guy; there were even printed route maps handed out this morning by the uber-efficient Al.  And so it was that the Greatest Organiser the club has ever seen, led us on a challenging (but well organised) ride out to Lampeter and back.  Beautifully done, Al.  En route, we had the pleasure of hearing Simon LeM's pasionate views about the parentage of a certain two time Tour de France winner who, according to Simon, was going to win TdF#3 by luck and conniving rather than skill and grace... These latino types do get excited about etiquette, chivalrous deeds and the like; I thought that was the domain of fine English fellows.  Anyway, back to the superbly arranged Tour de Llanbedr Pont Steffan, well, I'm unable to say much more as a couple of us turned back early and didn't witness what was probably the most ahhhmazzzingly organised tea 'n' scoffs followed by a superbly crafted route home.  Good job Al.  So, till next time.  I wonder who might organise the next club ride?  What fine fellow with proven pedigree could step up and lead from the front.  Again.  Did I mention what a good job Al M did today...?  Oh, a minor shout out to the Aberporth Two preferring their own little morning together rather than join Big Al's Amahhhhhzing Extravaganza... the good riding was with Big Al today boys...  Al M.  What....a....guy.

Sunday, 27th June.  The Elan Valley... mmm, mmm, what a day! With almost everyone making it for the 0900 start (where's the Chairman, oh, here he comes...) the ride from Devil's Bridge via Cwmystwyth and the Elan Lakes and back to Devil's Bridge for beer and coffee-chasers (!) was more than worth the hour's drive north.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful and there was something for everyone; great roads, light traffic, a fantastic climb from Rhayader (an Alp-like beast!) and almost good company.  Good to see Eddie back up and fighting (although the High Five from our little chum from Milwaukee nearly re-broke his shoulder) and a superb effort to mention from Dai S on the Alpine climb - positively beasted it, he did.  Even the Chairman's timings for the ride were nearly accurate (about 3 hours ish, er, maybe, 2 & 3/4, or 3 & half... and so on.  It was actually just over three hours, in case you were wondering).  Once Jav-lar had worked out there was no signing-on necessary, he was off and away, closely pursued by the Duvet Brothers who had either gotten themselves very organised for the earlier start, or did indeed synchronise waking habits by virtue of maintaining close proximity through the night...  There was a lot of talk about "my Fabian" and general German-Swiss double entendres for the first hour or so, I must say.  To quote one of our not-so-politically-correct members today: "Great roads, great scenery and a great ride - long live the Awaydays.  To then come home and watch England get thrashed was just right.  What I'd call a perfect day!"  I, of course, couldn't possibly comment. 

Sunday, 20th June.  Lovely weather again for the ladies’ roundabout trip to Newport for tea. Bridell hill was conquered by all, then it was off to Brynberian and a date with destiny...  A huge [I’ve told you a million times, stop exaggerating girls – Ed] double decker lorry full of sheep, tried to run the whole group down [allegedly – Ed] on a particularly nasty hairpin in Brynberian.  The girls were all forced to leap off their bikes and dive for the grass verge as the errant truck’s rear wheels tried to negotiate the bend and the girls as one.  Grassy, muddied but undeterred, the hard cases of Velo Teifi remounted and set off for Pentre Ifan only to continue the appointment with Mr Destiny in the form of a terrier [some sort of dog apparently – Ed] at Crosswell in search of some flesh.  Unfortunately for our furry friend, he hadn’t reckoned on the Barbara Woodhouse of the peleton, Sheila, who neatly dispatched the mutt with a loud shout.  [I believe the girls meant that they sent the dog packing as opposed to ‘popping a cap in its a**e’ – Ed]. Newport was finally reached after yet more truck shenanigans and a delightful sounding lavender and coffee cake went down a treat.  By the time home was reached a tally of 40 miles had been completed.  Buns of steel them girls. 

Sunday, 30th May.  With the Chairman hiding under the duvet, rueing another lost year it was down to the ever-dependable Club Sec to lead the way on a splendid 35 miler aorund the windmills and back.  Glorious weather indeed.  Happy days.

Sunday, 23rd May.  Ladies Ride.  Quoting our fairer members: "... Wow! A hot day or what?  Sun screen was applied [steady boys - Ed] before setting off this morning on the pre-advertised route, with a detour to a beautiful hidden church near Monington.  A total of 24 miles being covered today with a tea stop at Bro Meigan  [Natch - Ed]..." End Quote.

Sunday, 16th May.  Foul and loathsome.  And wet.  At least it was at the 0900 meet time.  This did not deter our most intrepid twosome - Colin and Dylan who, it is rumoured, disappeared into the murk, Colin squealing tyres and Dylan stuggling to keep his wheel... Apparently.

Sunday, 9th May.  Ladeez Day....  Quote "...a lovely day for the ladies ride; 6 today including our new American chum.  Detoured down to Mwnt for photo shoot [I can't wait for those saucy shots - Ed] - shots which may be used for Howies web page; how bloomin' exciting is that?!!.  Tea was taken in Cenarth however the cafe frequented is not to be recommended - too slow and the picnic garden is full of doggie do-do's..." End quote.

Saturday, 24th April.  I know it's a Saturday - blame the girls; it was a Ladeez Ride.  A report from the Feminine Frontline reads:  "...six ladies turned up; with a change of days.we lost four [see, they've even confused themselves - Ed].  M and M, of course, and Lynn G, Maggs plus a welcome new American  now living in the United Slates of Cilgerran - Kim.  A potential new member also called Lin gave us a go.... a tour to Crymych for tea at Baguette shop... Lovely ride spoiled by the sighting of some smelly VT boys - Lee and Joel..." Report ends.

Sunday, 18th April.  Reports from the Front: "...all in shorts, what more can you ask?  15 today, Colin had an early mechanical and a double blow out for young Daniel after a nasty pothole, just before paintball hill and tea!  Inner tubes donated by Gareth and myself got him on his way again to meet up with the rest who, by now, were enjoying their bevvies....The Aberporth lot decided to keep to themselves again but, as always, were spotted..." Report ends.

Sunday, 4th April.  Overshoes back on.  Four base layers.  And winter gloves.  British Summer Time my a**e.  But the chilly start did not dissuade the dozen or so members from turning up and attacking the first loop of the Preseli Angel.  There were new bikes on show, suspected food poisoning and a will to 'hurry up' in order to get home for beer, cheesey munchies and the Tour of Flanders. On an aside, it seems the Aberporth Crew continue to plough their own furrow; sneaking around the back lanes in the vain hope they're not spotted... Dudes, we have eyes and ears everywhere.  There is no hiding.  We know where you live numbers 18, 34 and 26...  (Sinister?  Velo Teifi?  You have been warned...)

Sunday, 21st March.  No overshoes.  Only two base layers.  And lightweight gloves.  Blimey, has spring sprung?  Today saw us take the team of 18 or so on a speedy trip to that local suburb of Birmingham, Llangrannog.  Glorious day and we found possibly the best tarmac in Ceredigion - the one mile drag out of Llangrannog.  A hint of damp was in the air on the homeward leg; we trust the Fishguard Posse got home in a fairly dry state?

Sunday, 7th March.  Massive.  That's what our Sunday rides are.  Massive.  I'm losing count now (only having 10 and a bit digits), but the roads were chocker with the best looking cycling kit in Wales worn by some of most attractive people in the UK.  Newport for tea 'n' munchies, in spring conditions.   And whilst the VT Massive were checking out Pembrokeshire, a small breakaway faction (gentlemen of an Aberporth persuasion) were molesting Aberaeron; independant sods that they are.   Not to worry, they would only have spoiled it for the Beautiful Ones.

Sunday, 21st February.  Holy moly!  17, 18, 19, 20... This is getting boring now.  Even with a start from Aberporth and hints of snowfall in the night, people were not put off and an intrepid peloton enjoyed the lustrous brown hues laid down by Mother Nature and the local farming community on every road we seemed to turn onto.  We managed to lose Club Sec on the way with a mechanical, but chivalry is not dead in VTCC and Roger duly obliged his services.  The rest of the group buggered off, naturally.  But it was an emotional reunion in the Newcastle Emlyn cafe after a grand tour taking in the windmills and hills around Newcastle Emlyn.  Big shout out to the Fishguard Massive that were out today, similarly, a return of the New Quay Posse was good to see.  We’re getting quite cosmopolitan in our membership now; soon we’ll have people from Llangolman, Cwmduad, Llanglydwen and Poppit – our club borders know no bounds...

Sunday, 7th February.  Holy moly!  17, 18, 19, 20... I lost count.  Hmm... this sounds familiar.  The number who turned out was even more remarkable given that a handful or reprobates present last time out were missing this time out.  So this week it was a special hello to the J-girls embarking on their training for their London to Paris sojourn (hopefully the weather and visibility will be better en France than it was today) and also to new faces Eddie and Dan; if the weather hadn't been so pants this morning you would have seen lovely views of the Preselis and Cych Valley today.  Honest.  There were a few punctures to report and rumours of ex-Club Sec celebrating a brithday...?  Is this true?

Sunday, 24th January.  Holy moly!  17, 18, 19, 20... I lost count.  What a turn out!  An interesting morning spent negotiating the new road features created over the recent wintry spell; south to Newport via the Gwaun Valley and back via the coast road to Cardigan.  There was talk of new bikes, new training regimes, entering races, attacking sportives, mountain bike events, oh my life!  How long can this New Year exuberance last, I wonder?  There was, of course, at least one hangover in the group.  And a strange odour of fried chicken.  Was it a good night, Howard?