No Riding to Ryde.......

There was to be no riding today.   The tired legs could be rested.  A hearty yet leisurely breakfast taken. The wind was blowing fairly and it would have been a hard day cycling into the gale.   I feel we would have coped well now that the legs are trimmed up a little more.   At breakfast Richard declared that in the afternoon he and his family, who were joining   us later in the day, would be celebrating their reunion by slipping into their costumes and running headlong into the sea.   I was impressed as the temperature of the water is still rather cold and I would certainly not be joining them. Rather worrying was the fact that no other bold bathers have been spotted since our arrival on the Isle.  Durrant's come from a steely stock I was assured and an icy cold sea would be no barrier.  I would, of course as you might expect, be on hand to hold Mr. Durrant's towel for him along with the goose grease and ensure his water wings were fully inflated.    This was a truly bold pronouncement.  He actually stated the time, 15.00         Replete following our meal it was agreed we would take a train ride to Ryde and meet the family arriving on the Portsmouth Ferry at 12.30   Some shopping in Shanklin before we boarded the old Backerloo line underground train which took us on a twenty minute journey across the Isle to the pier head at Ryde.   Plenty of time for a latte and some retail therapy on arrival.      At the appointed time we walked down the half mile long pier with the wind ever stronger.   A brief telephone call to the boss and Richard discovered he had completely mismanaged the joining arrangements.  It was not long before we established that he had clearly not listened to Louise's detailed instructions outlined in an early morning telephone call.    The family had already arrived, hopped on the train and were winging their way to Shanklin.    I can accept no responsibility for this debacle.  Had I been involved in the arrangements then it would have gone like clockwork. Alas we had time to kill waiting for the next train.      This meant I had time to return to the town centre in Ryde and purchase a set of Dad's Army lead figures I had spotted earlier.  A treat for myself. Mr. D decided to stay at the station.    Somehow I let time get away from me and my late return to the station resulted in us missing the next connection to Shanklin.  I sensed irritation in the tone when I delivered a rather pathetic explanation for my tardiness.    My position on the tour team was surely in some jeopardy.  Most certainly the stripe was in danger.    Mr. D had done all he could to hold the train, including standing in the doorway but alas he also held my ticket and having pleaded with the guard had eventually been forced to step back onto the  now empty platform.   I was touched that when push came to shove he felt that he should wait for me. A noble gesture, the signifigance of which I did not take for granted.     Conversation was muted after we eventually caught the next service to Shanklin and the moving long awaited reunion of Richard and family came to pass.     For me it was just the delivery of another grovelling apology.    A search took place for a small cafe to enjoy a light lunch and then back to the Steamer Inn to start preparations for the early evening gig. It must be noted that as 15.00 came and went there was no mention of the big dip in the sea.  In the circumstances I diplomatically did not mention this fact. Showtime 17.00   After a power nap I was ready to go and RD, who we already know, does not enjoy the prospect of pub performances decided to present his Cycling Music on the veranda of the hotel.  In my capacity as Stage Manager I concurred.    In double quick time the set was put together, blackout, bikes and lights.      It was a shame that  as we prepared for the concert a family had decided to use the lower part of the hotel entrance area to engage in a full blown family arguement. The  abusive language could be heard and did nothing build up the right atmosphere for the show.   At the appointed  time the Maestro took to the stage and once again was able to woo the passers by with his set of brilliant playing. It was not long before an appreciative audience were listening to a fine quality free concert.   To put the icing on the cake Xan Phillips and his son Tom arrived to support the gig. What an effort.    I must therefore be mentioned in dispatches. The concert raised £35.00 in donations for the Big C charity. So it was worth the effort for that alone.   Following the show pack up was swift.   It was down to the Crazy Golf for Felix, Django and Tom.     Dinner in the restaurant.  I opted for the fish stew!  A little too spicy for my taste but nonetheless enjoyable.   After supper  RD was taken to task on the administration of tour business by Louise.   One  or two of his answers and explanations  to questions were rather woolly to say the very least.  I squirmed as I listened to the exchange.     It was agreed that the bike pimping budget has now been blown and furthermore from now on in a much tighter ship needs to be run on the fiscal side of things.    Bed followed the emptying of a second bottle of wine.  The budget for that seems solid as we go to print. Sleep tight.