I wanted to do do a Fondo today. A 10mph-ish wind was blowing from the west, nothing unusual but it limited my options a bit. I thought of having a run out west to Bingley Hall. Didn’t really fancy it. I thought of doing a run down to Northamptonshire, Welford and back. Didn’t seem to be in the mood for that either.
But I’ve been feeling nostalgic for my first few years in Derby recently. Last night I had the idea to go and visit a pub / restaurant a couple of miles out of Spondon that I used to visit, usually on Friday lunchtimes with work colleagues, in the early ’90s. I haven’t been there since 1994 at the latest.
So I thought I’d do that. How I’d extend that to a Fondo I wasn’t sure. I’d have to improvise.
I set off at about 09:45, on the Cannondale. My idea was to go up over Swarkestone bridge, hang a left along the A road next to the river, then take a right into Derby along there and find my own way to Spondon. A bit of an initiative test. So after 14 miles I took a right along Stenson Road, and followed my nose. This took me, about 2.5 miles later, to Derby’s ring road, the A511, as I expected it would. Very familiar territory for me, from my years as a Derby resident. All very urban but I pedalled along happily, wallowing in old memories. The girl from chemical engineering I dated who lived just off the ring road. The older woman I fancied who worked at the petrol station near Allenton. Friday nights at the Rolls-Royce rifle club along there.
Anyway I got to Alvaston, then took a right toward Shardlow. I knew I’d be able to cut over toward Spondon past Elvaston Castle. I did that, then stopped and refuelled at a bench I sometimes used on rare occasions in the noughties, when I cycled back to Derby from Nottingham University.
However I took the wrong turn off Draycott Road, and ended up on the A52. This took me to the “Asda roundabout” and from there I decided the best bet to go to Spondon was to head over toward my old house up Acorn Way – then take a time-honoured route to Spondon from there.
I used to cycle up Acorn Way quite often in the ’90s. It’s a two mile, hilly road running past farms and open fields, leading to a modern housing estate – at one time the largest in Europe – called Oakwood, where I bought a house in 1991. Nice to be doing it again all these years later. It seemed easier today than it did then. From Oakwood I took a nice rural route to Spondon that I used to use very often in the early ’90s, because I had a girlfriend who lived there. I mostly drove that route but I used to cycle it sometimes, on my old Raleigh Routier.
I arrived in Spondon a couple of miles later, but somehow I’d forgotten where her house was, despite having driven or cycled to it at least a hundred times. I was about to give up on that when I saw her walking toward me, on the pavement. I’m ashamed to say that I basically hid from her, by lowering my head so that the peak of my cap obscured my face, then pedalling right past her.
My overwhelming feeling about that person is: guilt. I started seeing her about one year after a relationship breakup that I still wasn’t over. She was a gentle and unassuming soul, but because I was basically emotionally broken and numb, she ended up being mistreated, in a big way. The worst thing I did to her was to get engaged to her. I strung her along for months after I knew I was never going to marry her. And when I finally did her the favour of breaking up with her, she cried her eyes out in my car for half an hour.
I should have stopped to talk to her. I last chatted to her in a supermarket in Derby in 2002, and that was pleasant enough. But today I couldn’t face it.
Anyway. Feeling humble, contrite and rotten, I pedalled over to the pub I remembered, called the Bartlewood Lodge. They used to do an exceptional banana split. I didn’t actually go in, but nonetheless – really strange to be there again, like a ghost from the future, re-inhabiting a previous life.
I kept going along the same road and ended up at Ilkeston. I would have gone a bit further but I’d been rolling downhill for a while, and the gradient started to become quite steep. In cycling, what goes down must come up if you’re coming back the same way and I didn’t fancy a steep climb for the sake of visiting a pretty uninteresting provincial Derbyshire town, so I turned back.
Back the way I’d come from Oakwood. I missed the turn to Elvaston but kept on to Draycott. I was about to stop and consult Google Maps to find my way to Shardlow, which I knew couldn’t be far from there. But I saw a signpost to Sawley; close enough.
At Sawley, I stopped at a bench for an impromptu late lunch, consisting of the rest of the food I’d brought. After a few minutes, an old bloke came walking by. He stopped and gestured with his walking stick.
For a moment I thought he was cautiously making sure I’d make room for him to pass on the pavement with adequate social distance, but in fact his intention was pretty much the opposite – he was asking if I’d shove along on the bench so he could sit beside me. Clearly this wasn’t the best idea in the present circumstances, so I hurriedly finished off my flapjack, stood and offered him the bench. After sitting down he asked me where I was going, and if the wind had bothered me. Nice old man.
I headed to Donington from there. As I passed the airport, I noticed an RAF plane – not particularly military-looking, apart from the ROYAL AIR FORCE designation painted on the side – looked like an A330, painted in matt grey. It was taxi-ing along the runway. As I continued, I saw quite a few cars parked up outside the perimeter fencing, on the grass verge. One or two families with camping tables and chairs set up, wielding binoculars. I took a snap of the aircraft at the roundabout; it’s not very clear.
A few minutes later I saw the same aircraft pass overhead. Bad timing. I should have stayed to watch it take off.
I came home the usual way from Donington. Back home on 67.40 miles.
Nice run out, part sentimental, part new territory. Cloudy and cool in the morning, warm in the afternoon. Quite windy though, and my cap blew off once while cycling into it along the A road next to the river. I had attached it to a retainer though for just this eventuality, and it dangled behind me in the wind like a parachute brake, until I recovered it.