I was a bit worried to read the the first line of the Chairman's text which said " I'm thinking of Cock"! Having opened the note I realised he was proposing a ride to the Cock at Broom. Lying at the outer edge of our range for a Thursday night ride, this quirky little pub has been the subject of an annual pilgrimage since the very early days of Ampthill Cyclists.
With only three weeks to mid-summers day and maximum daylight hours and yet another pretty well perfect evening for cycling, this proved to be an excellent proposal. Once again 10 riders set out via Water End, Clophill and Haynes, before Crossing the A600 to Ireland. Southill and Broom.
As predicted, David the Doors wasn't put off by his first outing and the rest of the crew included Richard the Pub (first ride of the year), Everton, Brian, Clive, Chedge, Nick, Gary, Loren and Mick. We trundled along at a very respectable 15 mph through some beautiful countryside and chocolate box villages and arrived at the Cock at in a little under an hour.
We've been going to the Cock for as long as we've been riding out on Thursday evenings. There's no denying that it's interesting- being one of very few pubs without a proper bar servery. The barman stands in the cellar which is a few steps below the bar and pours beer directly from the cask. As you can imagine, it goes down a storm with the CAMRA types but unfortunately it seems to lack regular local customers.
The beer's not bad (hard to muck it up when there are no pipes to clean) but the place is looking tired and I'd go so far as to say it's not even the best pub in Broom any more- that title going to the White Horse. Anyway, it was pleasant to sit in the courtyard and quoff a couple of pints before heading back towards home.
The route back picked up the surfaced bridleway around the back of Chicksands to Apsley Corner and then retraced our tracks back to Haynes. Avoiding the pull of the Stone Jug we decided to take the high road, dropping down Limbersley Lane to the White Hart in Maulden.
The Dangerous Brothers, aka Everton & Mick, went off the front. No problem when you know where you are going but somehow they managed to confuse London Lane with Limbersley Lane, ending up in Houghton Conquest. The Chairman received a very sheepish phone call from Mick to say he'd not be joining us at the White Hart but would go straight to the Old Sun. This would've been funny had we not realised that Mick was holding the kitty.
After a swift pint of GK IPA (bought out of a second whip) we left the White Hart, some heading home and others going off to the Old Sun in the hope that Mick hadn't drunk his way through the remains of the kitty.
By the time we got back we'd just about clocked 30 miles at 15 mph having had a very enjoyable evening. Good call Chairman!
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