The Testing Times - December 2009

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December 2009

Almost embarrassed by the

success of what was

originally being heralded as

Britain's crappiest Time Trial

Fanzine, Ian Cammish and

his merry band of failed

cyclists, photographers and

journalists are destined to hit

the big-time in 2010. Plans

are afoot to go global!

Recent meetings with highly

intellectual (so they told us) and

grossly overpaid IT experts have

resulted in BIG plans being put

forward for the future of Testing

Times by the management at

Planet X HQ. “If it’s going to go

belly up, let’s do it big-time,”

declared Dave Loughran as he was

escorted through the heaving mass

of reporters that had gathered in

anticipation of an eagerly awaited

update on the leaked suggestions

in a recent issue of this mag that

something is afoot.

“It’s a big world out there and

we’ve been told that the worldwide

web awaits. We’ve got a ‘one-off’

here - there's really nothing out

there quite like Testing Times. The

general feedback we’ve been

getting right from the very

beginning is that the quality of the

product has to be seen to be

believed so we want the world to

share what the rest of us have had to

endure.”

Cammish was unavailable for

comment, his minders letting it slip

that he was off to urgently book

himself into an ‘IT made simple’

evening course at his local technical

college. Whether or not he can fit

this in between Neighbours,

Coronation Street and Eastenders

remains to be seen, but it will soon

become quite apparent when

Testing Times goes ‘live’ (is that the

right term?) when the IT fat-cats

have done the deed and got it up

and running.

Never one for moving with the

times, Cammish is said to

be ‘bricking it’ in

anticipation of what lays

ahead. If anyone can screw

it up though, Cammish can

… despite failing dismally

with Testing Times.

What’s in this issue:

Meet (even more of) the team

Major Targett on the National Hill

climb

Planet X’s new TT frame : The

Exocet

Paul Gittins on the Boro’

Mystery and intrigue with Peter

Whitfield

Frankly Franklin’s Christmas

experience

Sue Fenwick meets Margaret Allen

Gambling on … surviving

Christmas

Planet X Old Skool series … 2010

Titter!

Nob off

http://www … beckons

Testing Times to hit the world-wide web

Cammish to hit the bottle ... again

Circulation: There’s still a pulse.

PLANET X’S NEW TT FRAME

THE EXOCET … PGS 8 / 9

TESTING TIMES GOES ‘LIVE’

… SOON!

www.thetestingtimes.co.uk/

The team wishes readers of Testing

Times and anyone else as equally

midguided a very Merry Christmas

and Happy New Year.

Meet the Team … (there can’t be many more left willing to shoulder the burden of

blame … surely?)


Steve Kish (left) … licensed to thrill. 007’s stunt-man in his spare time. Full

time occupation? International drug smuggler and arms dealer. Hiding out

somewhere warm masquerading as a ‘journalist’ for the World’s leading Planet

X time trial fanzine Testing Times.

In a word … Frightening (well would you argue with a man who looks like

that?).

frighten • verb 1 cause to be afraid. 2 (frighten off) drive away by fear.

DERIVATIVES frightened adjective frightening adjective frighteningly

adverb.

Suechoccychoccy Fenwick/Rogers (left) … very keen on leather and

something big and powerful between her legs. VERY happily ensconced in a

long-term relationship with ‘Big-Will’ from Swavesey (honest!).

Suechoccychoccy is delighted to be a ‘has-been’ in the world of domestic

time-trialling having won the women’s National 100 championship back in

the good old days when Clement 3s ruled the roost and all the aero gizmos

were a twinkle in her mum’s eye. Enjoying a time trialling reincarnation

taking full advantage of all the hi-tech twaddle now available...and loving it!

In a word… SMITTEN (with cycling) … 3(be smitten) be affected severely

by a disease. 4 (be smitten) be strongly attracted to someone or something.

Major Paul Targett (right) … Occasional contributor. Fond of ease, chess,

fell-racing, insincere flatterers. Not fond of DIY, team games, totalitarian

state interference unless he’s giving the orders. Given to self-effacement and

flights of fancy. Partial to simplistic solutions. More foibles than Aesop.

In a word ... QUIRKY quirk (kwûrk) n. A peculiarity of behavior; an

idiosyncrasy: "Every man had his own quirks and twists" P.L. Onker 1858-

2003

Testing Times gives the inside

story. Any resemblance of

names or characters to real

people in this account is

entirely intentional.

Darren Gill sat bolt upright as Mr

Tickle’s arms reached 10 and 12,

triggering the musical alarm which

had roused him virtually every

morning since his sixth birthday. He

knew immediately the awesome

significance of this day. Ever since

the CTT had announced that the

National hillclimb champs were to be

held at nearby Stocksbridge, he’d

taken every opportunity he could to

practice on the infamous OHC9

course. Unlike the innocent cannon

fodder yet to come, Darren knew

exactly what to expect. He wolfed

down a full English and drained two

bottles of Barnsley’s finest pale ale –

he wasn’t taking any chances of a

hunger crack today. The gusting

winds wouldn’t make the challenge

any easier but then these would buffet

elite and duffer alike.

At 10.30 sharp he closed the garden

gate and swore at next door’s

Doberman/Boxer cross as it strained

the links on its chain in a desperate

effort to sink its foaming gnashers

into his inviting neck. Darren made a

mental note to pick up some Warfarin

and a cheap ham shank from the local

Costcutter store on his way back and

turned to business.

Some way away and some time

earlier, Tags Targett came to. It had

seemed a smart move two weeks

earlier to post his £12 (ouch) entry

cheque; a chance to extend his season

by a week and see a part of South

Yorkshire usually off limits to the

salaried middle classes. As the

cacophony of falling masonry down

his gable end died off a shiver of

doubt stirred within. Leaving a note

for his better half to check yellow

pages for a local chimney repairman,

he swallowed two aspirins and

re-checked his pulse. 88 had seemed

a mite high.

Paul Kippax or ‘Smokey’ as his

drinking chums affectionately tagged

him, was to approach the venue from

the South, hailing as he did from

Rutland, where he ran a haberdashery

store on the indoor market. As the

recession was playing havoc with the

demand for habers and dashers he had

recently returned to his original

profession as a mercenary,

specialising in silent assassination. If

anybody was foolish enough to cross

him on the Nationals day they’d run

the risk of experiencing one of his 87

preferred techniques.

His preparations had been extreme.

To reduce weight he’d extracted his

own toe and finger nails but had

needed the assistance of an

engineering apprentice to plane off

5mm from his upper and lower

canines. Unfortunately the jig had

been set wrongly and the resulting 30

degree angle from 8mm down to

2mm ensured he’d never again

advertise toothpaste. This obsession

with weight loss seemed incongruous

given that he always rode with a

saddlebag, but Smokey never

travelled without his favourite

filleting blade.

Tags Targett meanwhile was still

trying to understand the physics.

Having input OHC9 (momentarily

struggles to avoid product

endorsement) into his favourite

search engine, he came across a

science abstract relating to sub

threshold pion production in heavy

ion collisions around 100 MeV/u . It

seemed that OHc = 9” and 23”

Testing Times’ view of the 2009 National

Hillclimb Championships, Pea Royd Lane,

Stocksbridge by Paul Targett


“We only came out to walk t’ dog .. what’s ‘appenin’ ‘ere them?”

Photo courtesy of Andy Gates

won’t argue with those who claim it

was closer to 7/12 ths) preceded two

further blistering ‘kicks’, as the

crosswinds howled up the fellside

and the black and white chequered

flag strained on its pole in the far

distance. Tags knew instinctively that

he was now out of his mind...err..

depth but he had promised Cammish

an article and a cub scout’s word is

his bond.

Darren hadn’t needed much of a

warm up as he’d cycled the 5 miles

from home in a shade under 10

minutes, an uncomfortable pace not

unconnected with the sharp metallic

ping of a steel chain link stress

fracture as its residual tensile strength

was suddenly exceeded. Not of a

metallurgical bent, he’d failed to see

this coming whereas Smokey, who’d

studied metallurgy at pup school had

worked long and hard for this very

opportunity. The matching names of

the mad dogs from Birdwell and

Rutland was one of an estimated 367

coincidences predicted that day by

statistical theory within the parish

boundaries of Stocksbridge alone.

As he clipped in with 30 seconds to

go he smoothed down his eyebrows

represented the moving source

parameterisation of something or

other, probably ectoplasm for all

Tags knew. However as a semi-

educated 60’s baby boomer it seemed

clever stuff and Tags surmised that

he’d hit on the optimum average

velocity for the hillclimb. He mulled

over the concepts as he gently

climbed Pea Royd Lane for his first

recce.

The initial section was tantalisingly

easy and therein lay the trap – you

had the hammer down because you

were still fresh but then you hit the

ordnance survey double arrows on a

sharp right hander, steepest on the

inside curve with the road surface

degraded by hard braking car tyres.

As it shallowed to the half way point

a lone piper (sporting the Rab C

Nesbitt tartan) summoned the clans to

rebellion with a stirring rendition of

that old Scottish classic Danny

boy. The awful brutality of the

second half filled the horizon,

festooned as it was with cheerleaders

hoping to see a chump or two topple

off as their forward speed reached 0.0

m/sec.

A sharp left at the ¾ point (although I

and brought up most of that mornings

sausage and plum tomatoes, although

the scrambled egg mysteriously

refused to surface. At 10 seconds to

go he thought he heard a distant

bark. At -3 he saw it, leaping the road

closure bollards and nailing the

‘man’s best friend’ myth from the tip

of its docked black tail to the

menacing intent in its blood red eyes.

Stoically suppressing his rising dread

he began to wonder if messrs Clarke

and Parker would ever give him leave

to start.

Smokey Kippax had wangled himself

a late slot preferring to mix it with the

seeded riders in the hope he’d be

pulled through to a sub 4 minute

time. As bad luck would have it he

ended up being sandwiched between

two riders of the fairer sex, each of

whom reminded him in different

ways of his ex-partner Millicent. The

emotional trauma this engendered

was not inconsiderable given that

they’d only broken up that very

morning. Finding his inner tubes

unironed had been bad enough but

her rank refusal to accompany him to

the championship on the feeble

premise that her ailing mother Maud

wasn’t expected to last the weekend

was more than he could tolerate.

Warning her to be gone before he

came home with the champions

trophy he borrowed a tenner and

turned on his Sat Nav. Firing up the

customised V8 on his lime green

Austin Allegro he roared up the A1 to

steel city.

Darren had reached the first turn

when Smokey, closing rapidly,

suffered a massive fatal heart attack.

Fortuitous as this was for Darren it

proved less so for the assembled

crowd on the outside bend, six of

whom were bowled over domino

fashion by the dead dog’s hurtling

cadaver. Darren gratefully pressed on

and held his composure well to

record a first split of 2.18.

In training he’d never broken 6

minutes but he now felt sure that

barring any bionic dog resurrections

the (not so) magic 5 minute barrier

was within his grasp. Wiggo’s efforts

on Mont Ventoux were tame in

comparison to the physical


Dan Leeman (Cervelo Test Team) on his way to his first

National Hill Climb Championship win.


contortions he now subjected his body

to as he fairly buried himself to crest

the summit in 4-58.5. It was nigh on

13 minutes before the St John

Ambulance volunteers finally

resuscitated him (Smokey had proved

quite beyond their powers) with no

obvious sign of brain damage. As

Darren’s brain also proved to be

largely intact the smile on his face on

hearing his finishing time made the

Cheshire cat look solemn and he part

cycled, part skipped the 3 mile detour

back to the HQ.

Tag’s top tube was the only thing that

prevented his knees knocking

together as he completed the final

decade of his rosary beads. Taking

leave of his senses and previous

experience he took the first split in

2.11 and even the piper knew he’d

blown it big time. His error was

further compounded by his miserly

streak when he espied what appeared

to be a ten bob bit in the grit by the

kerbstones. Unable to resist such

temptation he dismounted and was

bitterly disappointed to find it was

only the remnant of a Doctor Pepper

can weathered into a perfect hexagon.

The gradient defeated his attempts at

remounting and he was forced to

wheel his stricken machine to the next

bend before resuming a pedalling

motion of sorts. Waiving all offer of

assistance from the summit marshals

it came as a pleasant surprise to find

he’d dipped inside Darren’s marker

by 0.3 secs. He soaked up the

impressive panorama of the Don

valley below him as the icy showers

failed to dent his brylcreamed crew

cut.

Smokey Kippax, unaware of his

namesakes recent demise, checked the

buckles on his saddlebag one last time

and placed his rear tyre on the

wooden starting wedge. He’d never

heard of Darren Gill or Tags Targett

(the hillclimbing escargot) before but

he was about to ride himself into the

glare of media publicity that

surrounds every issue of Testing

Times. Dawn Sherrin of VC Azzuri

but perhaps better known as the more

dominant member of the much feared

tag wrestling team ‘The Berserkers’

had set off one minute ahead, but the

starter’s periscope suggested she

might be catchable with a following

wind and there was certainly plenty of

that about. Mr Parker would stick to

the number 47 at Mozammal’s balti in

future. Alex Deck, the other half of

‘The Berserkers’ was starting

immediately behind him and besides

not wanting to take the blame for Mr

Parker, Smokey had no intention of

becoming the meat in The Berserkers’

sandwich.

12.48 passed into history and Smokey

Kippax kept his cool. Wisely splitting

in 2.23 he’d husbanded his available

energy perfectly to catch Dawn

within 50m of the finish line. As Alex

packed at half way, ostensibly to

throttle the piper for murdering her

favourite Welsh tune (Daniel boyo)

Smokey’s saddlebag thankfully

remained unopened. He had finished

in 4-55.7 which by another of those

estimated 367 coincidences predicted

that day by statistical theory within

the parish confines of Stocksbridge

alone was exactly the time of Lynn

Hamel, the Cumbrian star riding to

defend her hillclimbing champion’s

tiara.

As Darren, Tags and Smokey fought

their personal battles against the hill,

each other, their inner demons and

each others’ inner demons, and their

inner demons fought each others’

inner demons, the hill and their own

inner inner demons, the unfolding

drama of the ladies championship

superimposed itself on their second

fiddle efforts. Lynn had blasted to ½

way in 2.09 (great time for a marathon)

and her face betrayed a mask of pain as

she rounded the final bend – indeed

some bystanders thought it may have

been her death agony itself. Tragedy

was writ large for Lynn that day though

as she had missed the earlier posting

of Maxgear racing team’s Anna Fischer

by exactly ½ a second – surely the

cruellest result of the day.

At the men’s sharp end professional

Dan Fleeman (real name Daniel

Fleeman) of the Cervelo Test Team

took the honours from previous champ

Matt Clinton (real name Matthew

Clinton ) who believed he’d over

geared, and Jim Henderson (real name

Jim Henderson) took a deserved bronze

in his final race following the surprise

announcement of his retirement. Dare

we hope this was a ‘Steve Redgrave’

type of retirement and that he will fight

on next year? If Danny Shand hadn’t

come down with the flu it may well

have been the day of the Dannys,

especially if the piper got her way.

Pea Royd Lane has earned its place in

the annals of hillclimbing folklore and

the lucky few have a porcelain mug to

prove they saw action on the day the

champs came to Stocksbridge.

RESULTS

1 ) Dan Fleeman (Cervelo Test Team)

03-17.8 (split 1-29)

2 ) Matt Clinton (MikeVaughan.co.uk)

03-31.6 (split 1-35)

3 ) Jim Henderson (Southport CC)

03-39.4 (split 1.43)

(some other riders).

75) Anna Fischer (Maxgear RT)

04-55.2 (split 2-22)

76) Paul Kippax (Rutland CC)

04-55.7 (split 2.23)

77) Lynn Hamel (Team NCA)

04-55.7 (split 2.09)

78) Paul Targett (Pendle Forest CC)

04-58.2 (split 2.11)

79) Darren Gill (Birdwell Wheelers)

04-58.5 (split 2.18)

(not many other riders)


Major Targett kicking butt up

Pea Royd Lane


Testing Times’ Ian Frankly

Franklin is to team up with

former Dutch national time

trial champion Lex Nederlof

to attempt one of the longest

records on the Road Records

Association’s books.

A crack support team, led by brave

Dale Ford, is already laying the

foundations for a serious attempt at the

1000 mile tandem-trike record at ‘a

secret location’ some time next

October. Inside information leads

Testing Times to believe the attempt is

likely to take place on Manchester

Velodrome and that the time of start is

specifically being planned to coincide

with the ending of British Summer

Time. “Well that gives us a free hour to

play with straight away” said Frankly

at the recent press launch hosted by the

attempt’s main sponsors ‘Thailand’s

Tag-a-long Trailers’.

“Personally, I never thought I’d see the

day where I’d ever have a realistic

chance of getting my name in the

record books, but with Lex I can’t see

any way I can fail. Obviously over such

a distance as that, and bearing in mind

the choice of venue, boredom is going

to be one of the biggest worries but I’m

sure there’s plenty of room where I’ll

be sitting for a lap-top - my biggest

concern is whether or not Lex is up to

the job”.

Road Record Association officials

were unavailable for comment at the

time of going to press but Testing

Times contributor (and RRA

committee man and multi-record

breaker) Ralph Dadswell is reported

to have maybe said “We’ve had no

reason to consider any claims for the

1000 miles tandem trike record since

Pnut Arnold and Mr Grimes put it on

the shelf in 1954. Let’s face it … it’ll

never be beaten. Nevertheless, I would

whole-heartedly support Frankly and

Lex’s attempt because I really like

seeing people suffer … more so, when

there’s absolutely nothing to be gained

(because my money says they won’t

beat it!). :-) Of course, I still wish

them all the success in the world.”


Frankly and Nederlof to attempt

RRA’s 1000 mile record

Frankly and Nederlof begin training outside their main

sponsor’s headquarters

PROUDLY PRESENTS

OLD SKOOL RAVE THE FINAL SHOWDOWN

DATE AND TIME TO BE CONFIRMED

IN A PLANET X WAREHOUSE NEAR YOU

(LIKELY TO BE CARCROFT ENTERPRISE PARK AFTER OUR MOVE!)

12 CONTENDERS BATTLE IT OUT FOR YOUR VOTES

EAT YOUR HEARTS OUT JEDWARD, JAMIE, JOE AND JORDAN

THE OLD SKOOL RAVE RULES OK!

12 HOURS OF PURGATORY BROADCAST LIVE … MAYBE

‘AVING IT OUT ON THE NIGHT WILL PROBABLY BE:

AL BOOGIE AND RAP ROBERTS

THE POWER POP-MAN PARKY PARKINSON

and GAV GROOVY GOOD MAN HINXY BABE HINXMAN

To hear their previous form across DnB, Techno, Hip Hop, 2 step and

‘core production listen in and download from a freebie download store

near you. ;-)


After many months of talk and

speculation, Planet X’s new

time trial frameset is about to

hit the road. Ian Cammish is

delighted to be able to provide

a Testing Times exclusive road

test report, together with

photographs, of the all-new

Exocet frameset.

Nice smooth lines of the rear ends

incorporating wheel adjusters to

allow the centring of the wheel and

shortening of the wheelbase


Integrated headset and internal

brake and gear cabling

TESTING TIMES PRESENTS …

THE EXOCET


The road test I carried out was a far

cry from the month’s warm winter’s

training in the Canaries the Cycling

Weakly team manage to wangle for

their ‘tests’. Instead, I waited until the

rain was forecast to stop and booked a

days sicky from work to try it out on

my local home-made 25 mile course

in Cambridgeshire. Although it was

dry, it was still blowing a gale and I

hadn’t ridden much further than to the

local take-away and back in the last 6

months (he’s been ill...apparently!). I

also didn’t bother tweaking the

position at all - just got on it and rode.

The stem was a bit short (later

replaced as per photo) and the saddle

a tad high but time was short and I

didn’t want to be seen by the

competition … or by any of my

workmates, so I persevered as it was.

My initial impression was how

comfortable it felt - very similar to the

Pro Carbon track bike. It was a tad

more responsive and rigid than the

Stealth with a very, VERY stiff rear

end.

The special two-position seat post

allowed for a powerful position right

over the bottom bracket and enabled

me to power out to the turn into the

strong headwind with no problem.

The best was yet to come though. On

the return trip there felt to be no

‘give’ at all in the frame. All the

power I was putting down seemed to

be getting through.

Technical stuff:

Conforms to UCI 3:1 and 80mm Max

rule

Wind-tunnel evaluated in San Diego

and Dresden.

In San Diego it was compared with all

the major 'competitor' frames, with

and without rider, at 0, 5, 10, 15, 20

degrees of yaw. In every test the

Exocet was evaluated to be in the top

category.

In Dresden it was evaluated against

the current '09 and new '10 models of

a top rated TT bike (you don’t

seriously expect us to name it do

you?) . The Exocet was measurably

more aerodynamic than both models.

NOTE: the 2010 ‘un-named’ bike has

concealed front & rear brakes yet the

Exocet is still more aerodynamic.

“Good design beats fashion fads any

day” … that’s the quote from one of

the frame’s designers.

Two choices of saddle mounting

(left). Photo contrast cunningly

adjusted to prevent too close an

inspection by the competition!

Neat seat cluster and rear brake

mounting (below)

Well pleased and certainly impressed.

One or two tweaks before it can be let

loose to the public - gear changing a

bit spongy, front mech mounting

needs ‘stacking out’ a bit to ensure the

front changer changes … that’s all!

Naturally, I’ll delay feedback as long

as I reasonably can so I’ll be the only

rider using one until at least next

September! We’ll see if it makes up

for no training.

Let’s face it .. All you rally want is

photos anyway … eh? ;-)

“Bloody fast” … that’s the quote from

Cammish.

Flatter tubes than the Stealth (below)

but more aero...and more rigid


Those were the days my friends

We thought they’d never end,

We’d ride and ride for ever

and a day.

We’d ride the roads we’d

choose,

We’d race and never lose,

For we were young and naive

in every kind of way.

(With apologies to Mary

Hopkin, yet another great

Welsh person)

When I was a fresh faced youth I lived

in Wrexham which was to me and my

mates in the Wrexham RC, the centre

of the known universe. We would ride

events on the local ‘D’ courses which,

with the D1 at Chester being the 25

competition record course (1961

Charlie McCoy 55-01), were quite fast

enough for us. Occasionally we would

be very daring and venture into

Cheshire, Lancashire and even

Staffordshire to ride on some of the

‘J’ courses such as the J13 on the East

Lancs Road with its concrete slabs or

the rolling J52 between Maer and

Nantwich – a whole world away (well,

a couple of counties anyway). This

sufficed for our early teen years, not

many club members had cars so riding

out was the usual means of getting to

events which tended to limit one’s

sphere of activity.

This relatively limited view of the time

trialling world was expanded by

reading Cycling every week with its

reports of events across the UK (yes, it

did have them – lots of them!) and

glimpses of such exotic locations as

‘The Southend Road’ and ‘The Bath

Road’, always couched in relatively

vague terms so as to confuse the

general public (never mind cyclists

from other parts of the country!)

and maintain the RTTC’s strict

‘Private and Confidential’ edicts. It

often seemed that courses in other

regions were perpetually faster than

those locally with 54 and then 53

minute 25’s being done ‘down South’

on a weekly basis, not to mention

astronomically fast 50’s with times we

could only dream of on the Whitchurch

Road.

The potential of the ‘foreign’ courses

was brought home to me in 1966 when

my old friend Paddy Ward of the

Birkenhead Victoria CC suggested that

we take a trip to Yorkshire (Yorkshire!!

Where was that??) to ride a 50 on the

famous and fast ‘Boro’ course. He’d

entered an event, the Harrogate CC, in

2 weeks time and was willing to give

me a lift up. To me at that time,

Yorkshire was a complete unknown

(still is in some ways!), my only known

reference to it being my Mum’s

puddings of the same name, and a trip

there would mean crossing the

Pennines!! I gracefully declined the

offer stating that I was going to stay

home and ride the final local

association 25. On the day that Paddy

made the suggestion we had both

ridden the Chester RC 50 on the

D2 and both done middling ‘4’s’

finishing around 4th and 5th in the

results. Now, those of you of a certain

age may see where this is leading.

Paddy did go up to ‘Boro’ and did a

1-55 on a day when it seemed that a

one legged unicyclist could have got

inside 2 hours. Pete Smith broke

comp. record with the first 1-49. I

stayed at home and did a 1-4 on the

D1. Hardly a week goes by since then

when I have not regretted it. Mind you,

if I had gone, then it would have blown

a gale, rained a flood, and the history of

time trialling would have gone down

a completely different leg of the

trousers of time. Perhaps all those

riders who did fabulous times that day

should thank me for maintaining my

allegiance to the West Cheshire TTCA.

In ’67 I left home and went to the Far

South, that is to say, High Wycombe

(quite far enough thank you!). Here I

made acquaintance with the legendary

‘Bath Road’ and recorded my first

‘inside the hour’ ride and my (still

current) PB 50 in the ’68 National

Championship. Last year I drove down

the Bath Road from Reading to

WHEN (we were a lot younger)

Mr Gittins in the Yorks Century 100 in '68. It was taken (on Paul’s

camera) by his friend Nigel and shows him taking a huge 'packet' with

around 10-15 miles to go. Where is all the traffic?! Late morning on the

A1 on August Bank Holiday and hardly a car in sight and even then they

complained about traffic flow!


Marlborough for the first time in nearly

40 years and couldn’t believe how

narrow and ‘lumpy’ it appeared. Beats

me how so many people did the super

rides they did (such as Frank Colden’s

3-54 100 in ’62 and Pete Smith’s 1-48

in the ‘67 International 50) on such a

road.

I also made my one and only

pilgrimage to the Southend Road.

Gordon Wright suggested we ride the

Roamer 30, so very early one Sunday

morning we set off down the A40,

around the North Circular and down

to Basildon. I started but I didn’t

finish, I just couldn’t equate the

actuality of the course with the glowing

reports written about it in the ‘comic’.

I was disappointed, it didn’t ‘feel fast’

to me at all but perhaps it wasn’t one of

those renowned ‘float mornings’ that

Alf and co. seemed to find on a regular

basis. Whatever it was, I’ve never been

back.

In 1968, at the height of my powers

(!!!) I suggested to my old Wrexham

RC mate Nigel that, as we were now

more cosmopolitan in our outlook and

our horizons had been expanded (he’d

been at Reading University when I was

in High Wycombe) and I now had a

car, we would travel up to Yorkshire

and beyond on August Bank Holiday

weekend and ride a couple of events. I

would ride the Yorkshire Century 100

on the Sunday on ‘Boro’ and Nigel

would ride the Ferryhill Whs. 50 on the

Monday on the T503. In the

anticipation that we were both going to

finish our respective events with

performances that would put club

records on the shelf for years to come,

we drove up on the Saturday by some

convoluted route that my cousin (who

had been to Darlington once!)

suggested – this was well pre-M62 of

course – and found our ‘digs’

somewhere in Knaresborough, sharing

a room with several other ‘foreigners’

riding the 100 next day, one of whom

snored all night. He slept a deep and

refreshing sleep while the rest of us

didn’t, hardly conducive to riding a

good 100 the next morning. After an

early rise and some sort of breakfast

(pre-race preparation wasn’t so

technical in those days) Nigel drove to

Wetherby and I rode behind the car as a

warm up. When I started and got onto

the A1 for the first time I could

appreciate how good it was in

comparison to all the other courses I

had ridden and how those fast times

had been achieved. The tyres sang, the

miles passed by – even those in the

‘lanes’ around Thirsk – and I got back

onto the A1 at Leeming and to the 75

mile point inside 3-10 and could see a

real PB in prospect. It was then that I

discovered how Boro’ could bite you in

the bum and become a graveyard. The

gentle zephyr that had been helping me

to that point was a Southerly and as I

rode down the wide open stretches of

the A1 it picked up to almost gale force

and battered me without any sympathy.

I did an ‘18’ for the last 25 miles. I had

to complete the distance as I needed a

100 for my BAR certificate. I never

ever rode a fast 100 (or 50) on Boro’

and now never will.

Sunday evening we drove up to

Catterick to our digs and the following

morning after another rather disturbed

night’s sleep, we found the start just

North of Catterick. I was still feeling

the effects of the previous day’s efforts

and Nigel – who was riding fixed -

went for a warm-up ride and when he

got back, I turned his rear wheel around

for a bigger gear while he got ready.

After seeing him start I drove down the

A1 to watch him a couple of times and

was pleased to see how smooth and fast

he was pedalling even though he was

being caught by several riders, one of

whom was a youthful Sid Barras.

Down the slopes approaching the finish

he looked to be pedalling his bits off

and I was surprised to find that he had

only done around a 2-12, I thought he

had appeared to be going much faster.

It was only when we stripped his bike

down that we discovered the reason.

His rear wheel – which was mine on

loan – had an 18 tooth sprocket both

sides! In my 100 mile befuddled mind

I was oblivious to this when I had

turned his wheel around and given him

the same 72” gear as he had warmed up

on, no wonder he was pedalling fast! I

think he has forgiven me since

although it is seldom mentioned when

we meet.

When I married and moved

to Yorkshire in ‘71 I anticipated riding

Boro’ and O2 every week and regularly

recording times minutes faster than I

had ever achieved before. I soon

discovered the reality was that float

days on these courses were not a

‘given’ and that they only occurred

occasionally and then only on days

when my clubmates were riding and I

wasn’t. People who I would beat on a

regular basis in club events etc. would

post times minutes faster than my PB’s

on weekends when I would be away

visiting relations or having the ’flu.

However, I consider that some of my

‘best’ rides – not necessarily my fastest

– have been on Boro’ on hard days.

Days when the wind blew and a 57

won – and I did an ‘0’ or even a ’59’.

‘Worth a 55 on a good day’ I was

regularly and irritatingly informed. I

suppose that these sort of performances

can be seen as being very rewarding –

but not quite the same as doing a ‘flyer’

on a ‘float’ and improving a couple of

minutes!

Ain’t nostalgia great!

But not quite the same as it used to be.

Paul Gittins

Planet X employees, team

members and Testing Times

editorial staff available for

early season training camps.

Enjoy the benefit of all our

experience and knowledge. Fly

us to any exotic destination of

your choice, then feed us only

the best cuisine available in

return for the opportunity to

‘give us a right bending’ up the

steepest hills you can find or

the longest sessions you care

to commit to.

Serious expressions of interest

only please to:

[email protected] ;-)

So we’ve heard from the icon of

the 20s, 30s and 40s (that’s Mr

Gittins by the way!) and his

exploits on Boro’ … well that

prompted me to spend an hour or

so in the loft over a recent

weekend (well it beats training

doesn’t it?) pulling out diaries to

jog my memory a bit! Lo and

behold … my first journey up to

the infamous Boro’ course took

place on Sunday 4 September

1977.

I’d read about this course time and time

again in Cycling (the time trial

magazine of the day) and the impact it

had on people’s times and the country’s

leading season long competition the

British Best All Rounder. I wanted to

go fast too and as the Boro’ seemed the

dead cert ticket to achieve that, entered

the Yorkshire Century 100 held on the

V176. The course started on the

northern slip road out of Wetherby and

headed north up theA1 past

Boroughbridge to Dishforth

roundabout (no longer there now!),

where it turned eastwards and headed

towards Thirsk. In those days, this

part of the course was only single

carriageway and the circuit from

Dishforth-Thirsk-Nothallerton -

Londonderry - Dishforth had to be

covered twice before the final 20 mile

or so run in down the A1 to finish

near Cowthorpe Lane just north of

Wetherby.

So, what did I write 22 years ago ...

and was I using joined-up writing?

Result

I Cammish (Northampton CC - Vindec)

4-11-19 Prize value £5

M McNamara (Rockingham CC)

4-12-42 £4

J Woodburn (Sydenham CC)

4-12-48 £3

T Mullins (Rockingham CC) 4-12-50 £2

K W Platts (Coalville Whls) 4-14-11 £1


My Diary … and the first time I rode

on Boro’ by Ian Cammish

Fifteen miles into the ride at

Dishforth roundabout - photo by

Bernard Thompson

Ninety years ago the

countryside to the east of

Leicester was criss-crossed

with narrow lanes leading to

uneventful little villages like

Evington, Stoughton, Kings

Norton and Gaulby. In mid-

summer the hedges were eight

feet high and the lanes in that

pre-motorised age were lonely.

One July evening in 1919,

around 9.20 pm, a farmer was

driving some cows along the

lane some two miles from

Gaulby, when he came upon a

young woman lying in the

road, beside a gate leading

into a field. Her head was

covered with blood and a

bicycle lay askew across the

road beside her. He saw at

once that she was dead, and

supposed that she had fallen

from her machine and had died

of her injuries. The farmer

placed her beside the road,

saw to his cows and set off for

help. When he moved her he

noticed that her body was still

warm, suggesting that she had

been dead for a very short

time. By the time a constable

and a doctor arrived at the

scene, it was dark.

A cursory examination served to con-

firm the impression of an accidental

death, and the body was carried to a

cottage nearby. Next morning the con-

stable dutifully returned to the lane to

take a second look around, and now he

found several things which completely

changed his view of the case. A few

yards from the spot where the body

was found, he discovered a discharged

bullet, embedded in the road. On the

top of the field gate, which was

painted white, he found the marks of

claws, marks made in blood, and in

the field itself lay a large dark bird,

dead, and apparently gorged with

blood. With the aid of the doctor, the

constable examined the girl’s body

again, and this time they found a bul-

let wound just below the eye, and an-

other in her head where the bullet had

exited. Clearly, they were dealing not

with a bicycle accident but with mur-

der.

The dead girl was quickly identified

as Bella Wright, aged twenty-one,

who lived in the village of Stoughton

with her parents. She worked in a fac-

tory in Leicester and was engaged to

be married to a merchant seaman. It

did not prove difficult to reconstruct

her final hours. She had left home at

6.30 pm to cycle to her uncle, a man

named Measures, who lived in

Gaulby. While she entered his house a

young man, also a cyclist waited out-

side. She explained to her uncle that

he was a man she had met on the road,

a stranger, but she did not complain of

him or express any particular concern

about him. When she left the house an

hour later, the man was still waiting,

and he was heard to say, “Bella,

you have been a long time – I thought

you had gone the other way.” Meas-

ures’ son-in-law had some conversation

with the man about his bicycle, and

then, at around 8.40 pm, the girl and

the unknown young man cycled away

together. Just forty minutes later, her

body was found on the road back to

Stoughton. Obviously the man was the

prime suspect, and the police possessed

a reasonable description of him, and

they knew that he owned a green bicy-

cle. Every man in the district who

owned such a machine was sought and

questioned, but without result.

The months passed, and Bella Wright

lay in her grave in Stoughton church-

yard, but there was no sign of her sus-

pected killer, and no explanation of the

significance of the dead bird. There

was not even any agreement on what

kind of bird it was: the police reports

called it a raven, but bird experts im-

mediately objected that there were no

ravens in Leicestershire, and anyway

they did not drink blood, therefore it

was probably a rook or crow. It was

never stated whether the blood was hu-

man or not. It should have been possi-

ble, even in 1919, to establish this, al-

though it would not have been possible

to say whether it was Bella Wright’s.

Her body was found within a very short

time of her death: could this bird really

have consumed enough blood in a few

minutes to cause its own death?

Half a year passed and the mystery

looked as though it would remain un-

solved for ever. But then in February

1920, a canal barge was drifting slowly

through Leicester when the boatman

saw his tow-rope tighten as it snagged

something beneath the surface. Then,

for an instant, it lifted up a bicycle, or

at least a part of one, which hung in the

air for a moment before slipping back

into the water. But that moment was

enough: the boatman immediately re-


THE GREEN BICYCLE MURDER

A Mystery Without a Solution

Bella Wright … found lying in

the road, beside a gate

leading into a field.

My Diary … and the first time I rode

called the publicity surrounding the

murder, and as soon as he could he set

about fishing up the machine: it was

green, and it had been partly disman-

tled. The police took up the search,

finding the rest of the bicycle, and a

revolver holster, but no gun. There was

huge public interest in the case, with

crowds watching the police scouring of

the canal. The cartridges in the holster

proved to be like the one found in the

lane by the body, but this meant noth-

ing, as cartridges of that kind had been

manufactured by the million during the

war years, and thousands of ex-soldiers

still kept their service revolvers.

The bicycle proved to be a BSA, with a

back-pedal brake, an unusual feature on

an English machine. The frame-

number, 103648, was still visible, and

it proved possible to follow the bike’s

trail from the factory to its purchaser. It

had been supplied by BSA back in

1910 to a dealer in Derby named Orton,

and, with its back-pedal brake, it was

special order: this fact alone made it

possible to trace the man who bought

it. This man was identified as Ronald

Light, and, when tracked down, he

proved to be a teacher of mathematics

in Cheltenham. He was 34 years old, a

former pupil of Rugby School, and had

served for three years in the war in

France. This perhaps explained why he

seemed prematurely aged and slightly

deaf. He was unmarried, and at the time

when Bella Wright met her death, he

had been living in Leicester with his

mother.

When questioned by the police, Light

denied ever having owned a green bicy-

cle, denied knowing anything of Bella

Wight, or having been anywhere near

Gaulby at the time. Yet Bella’s uncle

and his son-in-law both identified

Light as the man they had seen. The

circumstantial evidence against him

was strong, and he was, inevitably,

arrested, and sent for trial. While in

prison awaiting trial, a witness heard

him exclaiming, “Damn and blast that

canal!”

On the opening day of the trial in

Leicester Castle, there was an early

sensation. His defence lawyer, the

celebrated Sir Edward Marshall Hall,

announced that his client had changed

his story. Light now acknowledged that

his earlier denials had been the result of

sheer panic. He now admitted that he

had been with Bella Wright on the eve-

ning of her death, that the green bicycle

was his, and that he had hidden it out of

fear. However he maintained that he

had nothing to do with her death, and

that he had never owned a revolver

since he had been sent home from


The guilty man? Ronald Light

- a teacher of mathematics in

Cheltenham

The evidence being pulled from the canal (above)

France on a stretcher. Light’s appear-

ance impressed the court: he was seri-

ous, calm and dignified, and, although

he could not be described as a war

hero, he was a evidently a man who

had suffered in the service of his coun-

try. What account then did he give of

his meeting with Bella Wright ?

He said he met her in the lanes as she

was standing by her bicycle, and he had

asked her if there was anything wrong.

She said her front wheel was loose, and

asked him if he had any spanners with

him. He had not, but her bicycle

seemed quite rideable, so they went on

together to her uncle’s house in

Gaulby. Here he waited for her, but

when she re-appeared he did not ad-

dress her by her name, which he never

knew, but said, “Hello, you have been a

long time.” Light went on to say that

they had ridden together for only ten

minutes when his tyre began to soften.

It was clear that he would have to walk

home and so she left him at a cross-

roads, where she took the lane to

Stoughton, while he took a more direct

road back to Leicester. He walked the

entire way home, getting back around

ten o’clock. A few days later, when he

read about the death in the newspapers

and heard about the search for the man

with the green bicycle, he was terrified,

broke up the machine and threw it into

the canal. This was his story, and five

hours of cross-examination failed to

shake it in any detail.

Sir Edward Marshall Hall then ques-

tioned witnesses closely about the

shooting itself. He argued that a bullet

fired from a few feet away should have

blown out the back of the skull, and it

should have travelled much further.

There was no actual evidence that the

bullet found in the road was the fatal

bullet at all. Hall made the intriguing

suggestion that Bella might have been

killed by a rifle bullet, fired from a dis-

tance, from the adjacent field. There

was no evidence that Light had ever

been seen with a gun, and why should

he go out for a summer bicycle ride in

the English country lanes carrying a

loaded gun? What motive could he pos-

sibly have for killing Bella, who not

been assaulted in any way? His defence

was a powerful one, and when the

unanimous verdict of “Not Guilty”

came, it was cheered in the court and

outside. Ronald Light walked free, and

lived until 1975, dying at the age of 90,

but without ever speaking about the

case again. Somehow the local bike

shop in Evington got hold of the noto-

rious green bicycle and exhibited it

there for some time after the trial. No

other person was ever sought or ar-

rested for the crime. Bella Wright’s

family remained convinced that the

guilty man had been set free. This

reminds us of the personal suffering in

this and in all murder cases. The pub-

lic cares only for the puzzle, the great

question, “Who did it?” and they for-

get the human tragedy.

So who did kill Bella Wright, and

why? In spite of Sir Edward Marshall

Hall, everything seems to point to

Ronald Light: he was with her only

thirty minutes before her death, and

no one else was even seen nearby. But

this was all circumstantial, and the

fatal weakness in the case against him

was the lack of a gun to connect him

with the crime. But what could be

easier than to drop a gun into a canal ?

Perhaps it was lying there, a few yards

away from the bicycle and the holster,

and perhaps Light’s saving stroke of

luck was that it happened never to be

found. In a modern trial, the ballistic

and medical evidence would also have

investigated far more thoroughly:

what exactly was the nature of Bella’s

wound, and what kind of weapon

would have caused it?

And what of the mysterious dead bird?

At the trial neither side was able to

make anything of it. It was not subject

to intense scientific examination, as it

would be now. Was it even connected

with the death at all? Here, Hall’s idea

of an accident comes into play. Sup-

pose someone were out with a rifle or a

shotgun in that adjacent field, and sup-

pose they saw a large black crow

perched on a white gate: they fire at it,

and hit the bird, but at precisely that

moment, a girl on a bicycle appears in

the gateway, and is tragically hit by the

same fatal shot. The distance involved

would explain the nature of the wound,

and why the bullet travelled no further.

The man, whoever he was, then rushes

away across country as fast as he can,

is seen by no one, and never comes

forward. Far-fetched? Perhaps, but not

impossible. On the other hand later in-

vestigators managed to unearth some

stories about Ronald Light which sug-

gested that he was definitely a misfit,

and may have had some dark secrets in

its his life. But a misfit is not therefore

a murderer, and the fact is that no evi-

dence was found to connect Light with

Bella’s death.

If we accept the verdict of the jury – as

perhaps we should – the green bicycle

murder is no nearer a solution now than

it was when Light’s trial ended, and it

probably never will be. The homely

detail of the bicycle, rarely in its his-

tory associated with murder, contrasts

with the macabre puzzle of the bird

gorged with blood – if indeed it had

anything to do with the case at all. The

lanes east of Leicester are less lonely

now than they were, but the memory of

these events is still alive in those vil-

lages, and many people have made the

journey from Gaulby to Stoughton,

following in the footsteps of Bella

Wright and the man with the green bi-

cycle, and wondering who he was – if

he was not Ronald Light – and what

really passed between them.

Peter Whitfield


Wanted … information

leading to the apprehension

of Annie Bella Wright’s

murder.


Frankly Franklin's

unexpected trip to the seaside

resulted in a welcome

encounter and provided the

inspiration (and facts) for

this Christmas story.

Those of you who have read

Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas

Goes on Holiday will already know

that during his summer break he likes

to take well deserved jaunts to exotic

places such as France and Las Vegas.

This year Rudolph, Prancer, Vixen,

Blitzen et al towed his ubiquitous

holiday home to The Beach

somewhere down in the South of

Thailand where I found him after

having got lost on a club run 1200

miles north of the same country.

'I'm sure Chiang Mai is somewhere

around here, after all I have been

riding for 12 hours or so' I thought to

myself. Problem with living in this

country is that if you get lost and don't

speak the lingo, there is absolutely no

way that you can communicate with

the locals. You just have to keep

pedalling. And keep pedalling I did.

Mind you, it was really very nice to

see the seaside. I've been surrounded

by mountains and paddy fields for far

too long and the air fare from here to

the southern islands is a bit steep. I

kept on riding at my usual time trial

pace (something around 15mph),

rounded a corner and lo and behold I

came across a wonderful sandy beach,

not too crowded but populated with

bright red fat tourists, wunderkids in

bikinis and an assortment of local

traders offering them battered prawns,

leg massage, wooden croaking frogs

and in a few cases what is

euphemistically known as

‘friendship’.

This was the place to resolve my

dilemma and find out how to get

home. I found this lovely couple

roasting themselves under the burning

sun: “Excuse me”, I said, “Could you

tell me the way to Chiang Mai?”

“Жаль, я не говорю на тайском

языке, спрашиваю кого - то еще Вы

дурак,” came the reply.

I tried asking another sun-baked

tourist: “Schade, ich spreche Thai

nicht, frage jemanden anderen Sie

Irrer.” I tried again: “Ci dispiace, non

parlo thai, chiedere a qualcun altro è

pazzo”, she answered. I carried on like

this for some considerable time.

Ukrainians, Spaniards, Germans and

Italians - The Beach was full of them,

but there wasn't one English speaker

amongst them. “Wir haben die

Engländer anderswohin gesandt, weil

sie alle Liegestühle monopolisieren”, a

German sunbather explained. 'Ahh', I

thought, 'so that's why there are no

British sunbathers here!'

Of course, once you have this problem,

there is nothing to do but wander along

the coastal roads, buy an ice cream or

two, eat the odd plate of noodles, ring

home and explain to the Mrs why you'll

be late for tea.

I continued, up a slight hill, a bit more

climbing and then I was able to look

down into these little coves, lonely

deserted beaches with palm trees gently

swaying in the seaside breeze.

Rounding the next bend, there was this

little footpath which wended its way

back onto a beach - just about rideable

on my GP4000s and it looked very

inviting. So down I went.

Now all of you out there whose Sunday

club runs are confined to traffic laden

roads in temperatures as low as or

below nought degrees, should by now

be feeling a little jealous (especially at

this time of the year when the roads are

too icy to ride on anyway). That's the

idea, but sit back and relax as there is

more to come!

Indeed there was more to come! I

parked my bike in the shade of a

coconut tree, removed my Specialized

shoes and socks and ventured onto the

smooth and beautiful sand. As I did so

I caught site of just one person in the

whole of this cove. He walked towards

me, and as he got closer I thought that I

recognised this portly fellow with what

seemed like ice cream or sea foam

around his face. And then, when he was

just three metres away I thought, 'Yes!

I know who this is …… it can't be

………… but it is! It's got to be …….'

“Hello” I said, “Haven't we met

before?”

“I think no” he replied in heavily

accented English.

“Yes we have”, I said, and then

explained “You used to have a job in

Trinder's toy shop every December. I

sat on your knee once and asked you if

I could have a bicycle for Christmas.

But all I got was a lump of ice.”

A Peek into Santa’s

Musette

Raymond Briggs’

Father Christmas goes

on Holiday (right) ...

like it says on the tin!


At this he looked very uncomfortable.

“Deed you? Waz that at Twinder’s in,

now let me see, in ninety fiftee ate in a

place called Fakestone?”

“Yes, yes” I replied “But I never

understood why all I got that

Christmas was an icicle. After all, I

hadn't been that naughty during the

preceding year.”

“Ah, yes.” He thought for a minute and

then said “I remember now, I thought

you said 'icicle'. I could not have 'eard

the 'B' - so it was a Bicicle you wanted,

hein? But how was the icicle?”

“My mother always told me that I

should never look a gift horse in the

mouth, but I must tell you that the

bloody thing melted!”

“Never matter” he said “I am sure you

'ave 'ad many bicicles since then!”

Well, this little exchange proved that

the person in front of me was indeed

Santa and not just some escapee from a

fancy dress party. He had a long white

beard, kindly eyes, a blue and white

striped long sleeve t-shirt and the

largest pair of red and white spotted

shorts that you've ever seen. In fact, he

was straight out of Briggs' book. It was

him, no doubt!

He sat on the sand next to me and was

clearly a little lonely. I had the distinct

impression that my company was

welcome and that he was up for a chat.

What a great opportunity to delve into

the hidden secrets of Santa world. “I

was wondering” I said to him “how

you manage to carry all the presents

for everyone in the world in such a

small sack.”

“It eez wun of Santa's little see crets”,

he answered.

“But … it's not only the sheer volume

of toys and bits that you deliver, it's the

whole world you have to speed round.

In such a short time too!”

“You are a bi cyclist, hein? You are

understood about speed. Ullrich,

Schumacher, Pantani, Virenque - all

zees people ride the cycable so much

fartster than you, right? You must ask

zem ze question same answer!”

“I would really like to know more” I

said.

“Veree vell zen”, he replied “I vould

like you to fellow me. Iz zat good?”

Well, follow him I did. We walked up

the beach until we saw a group of

reindeers munching seaweed at the

water's edge and just behind them a

kind of old-fashioned caravan (see

Raymond Briggs' book for a good

artists' impression). It was red with a

little chimney stack sticking up at the

back. There were harnesses at the front

and I guessed that these were to enable

the reindeers to pull this contraption

through the sky.

“I vould much like you to come into

my leetle 'ouse ere and see my sack.”

I did as I was bid and followed him up

the crinkly steps into the caravan. I was

a bit nervous here because it is a bit

dodgy going into some lonely old guy's

caravan on a deserted beach - so if

there are any juniors or juveniles

reading this, be very very careful. None

of my actions should be copied by you.

Ok? [Inserted at the request of the

health and safety department, Planet X,

up north somewhere.]

But his next move made me even more

nervous. “Now poot your 'ead in the

sack, pleeze.” Now if he hadn't said

'please' I definitely would not have

done it. As soon as I bent over with my

head in the sack he gave me a ruddy

great shove with his black boot and I

went whirling and swirling downwards

into a huge and different world full of

toys and presents and little elves

running about. 'So that's the answer', I

thought 'It's just like the wardrobe in

Narnia - you disappear into the sack

and emerge in an entirely different

place. Magic Santa, indeed!'

Once I had settled down, got my

bearings and overcome the shock of

being booted up the behind by Santa, I

started to enjoy what I could see. What

was interesting was looking at the

labels and seeing just which presents

were going where. Obviously I could

get some insight into what people like

To55er were going to receive this

coming Christmas and I found some

interesting stuff. If you see him, don't

tell him, but I think he's getting some

go faster stripes for his old skool bike.

Cavendish? They've only gone and

got him a school cap and a school

uniform with short trousers (well,

we're not used to school kids winning

the Milan-San Remo, are we?). What

else did I find … ah yes! Here's one

for Dave Lloyd. It's a book called

How to Write an Autobiography.

Hutchinson? A training programme

and a can of Guinness to help him get

the 25 record next season. That's

appropriate. Dave Loughran: a bag

full of money to add to his already

considerable wealth. Gordon Brown:

a rubber duck (…… must be for a

different person of the same name).

Now here's an interesting one: a Tour

de France game for Ken Livingstone

(must be getting into cycling);

Bradley Wiggins: a lassoo to attach

himself to Cancellara next time he

comes whizzing past. And so on ……

oh yes me? A map of Thailand so I

can get back to Chiang Mai (a bit late,

I think). But I won't give all the

secrets away, you'll know soon

enough.

And then I found about fifteen

hippopotamuses milling about in a

corner. Each had labels carrying the

name of a professional racing cyclist.

“I wonder what they're for?” I asked

myself. I stored that one up for later.

All of a sudden I emerged from this

world sooner than I expected. I

suddenly felt this force that dragged

me spiralling upwards until, emerging

from the sack, I found myself back in

Santa's little caravan, in a cove, on a

beach, in Thailand.

“Wow!” I said “That was very very

interesting, but why did you get all of

these hippos for those cyclists.”

“Yes, I woz wunderin' zat my shelf”,

he said “But I can tell that eech of

zees cycling persons, when zey sat on

my knee zey asked for an eepo. So if

zat is wot zey want, zey can 'ave a

leetle eepo, hein?”

Ian Franklin


Which female time

triallist from Yorkshire

won national

championships over a

30 year period,

represented her country

in European and World

road races, yet never

got to go to the

Olympics? Yes Beryl

Burton, but there’s

another person too,

often overlooked and

always understated—

the lovely Margaret

Allen. Sue Fenwick

caught up with our

other Fast Yorkshire

Lady.

Margaret’s first national

championship medal was

silver in the 1964 ‘100’ won

by Beryl. From 1983-1993

she won individual and team

golds at every distance:

individual BAR in 87 and 88, ‘100’ in

89 and 91, ‘50’ in 88, ‘25’ in 88m ‘10’

in 90, team ‘100’ in 83, 84, 86, 87, 88,

89 and 92, team ‘50’ in 84 and 85,

team ‘25’ in 89 and 93, and team ‘10’

in 83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92 and

93. Many of her 1980s team rides were

done with her sisters Maureen Pearson

and Katherine Mitchell and her 1990s

rides done with her daughter Katie

(1998 BAR).

Her fondest timetrialling memory

though was the day in September

1987 on the E72 where she recorded

54.00. “I was catching the men in front

of me, knew I was on a ride. Everyone

in the laybys was standing, looking

shocked as I went by. Just before the

finish, there’s a tricky bend where you

got disqualified if you crossed the

white line, so I took it steady. Team

mate Debbie Pearson asked what I’d

done, she swore when I told her I

thought I’d done a 54, then she stood by

the result board waiting. When the time

came up she screamed, swore again,

shouted “You’ve done a 54 dead!” and

threw her arms round me. It was the

second-fastest-ever 25 by a woman,

done on a roadbike too, no tribars or

discs.”

Born to cycling parents, and with a

famous cycling uncle, Eddie Larkin,

who was set to represent Britain at

Olympic level until the outbreak of

WWII, Margaret was destined to be a

cyclist, her early years spent on

clubruns and youth hostelling.

“There was no track scene near us, only

5 or 6 road races per year and not too

many time trials so it was about riding

your bike, not racing. The season was

much shorter and the working week

longer—5.5 days and 50 hours.”

In common with Beryl, Margaret

suffered a serious health setback in

childhood—she unknowingly dislocated

her hip in a road accident, carried on

cycling but limped when walking, was

eventually hospitalised and put into

traction for 12 months, celebrating her

13th birthday in hospital.

“That’s why my back is so strong – a

year spent with a 16lb weight hanging

off the end of each foot”. In 1964 she

attended national squad selection trials

at Loughborough and although she

wasn’t picked, the coaches remembered

her having the strongest back out of all

the men and women from her session on

the back strength apparatus.

Margaret starting one of the National Championships she rode in the

early 80s. Photo courtesy of a fan :-)

Sue Fenwick tracks down …

MARGARET ALLEN


Margaret found another route to

international honours – piloting for

blind stokers in tandem road races and

track pursuits. Partnering Elspeth

Brown, she represented Britain in

European and World disabled cycling

road and track championships from

1988-91. They were selected to

represent Britain at the 1992 Barcelona

Paralympics but the events were

cancelled due to too few entries. A

second chance came in 1996 with the

Atlanta Paralympics but again, things

didn’t work out well.

“I was so tired. We were training at

Manchester track. That style of training

didn’t suit me, and the two hour

journey each way on top wore me out. I

was on the downhill slope of my racing

career too.”

“However I’m proud that we did

pioneer cycling for ladies Paralympics.

One of my best memories is a 2-day

international tandem blind roadrace in

France, all-male, all-female and mixed

tandems in one event. The atmosphere

was fantastic. All the documents in

French, I read them out, Elspeth

translated. We won an outstanding

riders award for finishing consistently

high up across the three events: two 40

mile road races and a 20 mile pro-

logue.”

“Another memory was a Belgian road

race and afterwards a mixed shower

block where the men took very long

showers so they could see all the

women. We waited and waited but still

they stayed. I was embarrassed so in

the end, shut my eyes and kept them

closed, so neither Elspeth nor I saw

anything we didn’t want to see!”

“Spending time with Elspeth was

special. When all your senses work,

you take your senses for granted, but

take one away and life becomes very

different. Elspeth has learnt to live with

her disability. It’s a shame more able-

bodied people can’t see past a person’s

appearance or disability to see the

person underneath.”

What sort of training leads a rider to

both short and long distance honours?

“We never called it training. We just

rode our bikes. An average of 250 miles

a week. Now I’d be pushed to fit in 100

a week! Maureen and I ran a part-time

business together. On Mondays we

would do a 50 mile loop. Our parents

had a caravan at Mablethorpe, 96 miles

each way, they’d drive down with the

children at weekends, we’d cycle.

Never cycled in the dark except to club

night. When racing came, weather

warmed up so we’d go faster. I always

spun a 59” gear and when my four

children were young, I spent years

cycling with them on the back of a

tandem or in a trailer. Gives you strong

legs! During winter I used to run and

do circuit training too, keeps the fitness

up, rests the cycling muscles and works

other muscles.”

“Today I do a spinning class once a

week and mainly ride tandem with my

husband Graham. Maureen has a boat in

Portugal so we’ve just had a month out

there of riding solos. It’s good to get up

a hill by my own efforts again. I even

wondered briefly if I should start racing

again in 2010!”

Whether or not we ever see Margaret

racing again, the Allen dynasty is far

from over. Daughter Katie and her

husband Chris have just celebrated

the arrival of their daughter, born on

Armistice Day 2009, so in about 18

years’ time, if you read a start sheet

and see a rider with first name “Ella

Poppy”, you’ll know the Allen story

continues.

The grey column:

Where you could input. Still no

more unsung heroes … surely

Gordon’s not the only one? Who’s

yours? Tell us on

[email protected]

Who’s hot in the world of domestic

time trialling? It’s winter out there

… ok?

Who’s not hot in the world of

domestic time trialling? Anyone

who’s out there training in the cold.

Coming soon:

www.thetestingtimes.co.uk/

http://tt-weekly.com/index.htm

There was a time when Christmas

cycling activities were social gatherings

in country hostelries. Ghost stories

were told around a log fire and everyone

rode home, with blobs of white dynamo

light on the trees, leaving wheelmarks in

the snow.

Not any more they don’t, for Christmas

has become very competitive in recent

years. If the three Wise Men came now

they would be lined out into the wind

and in the spirit of the manger there

would be some subtle robe-pulling.

The longer racing season, basic winter

miles, cyclo-cross, Christmas time trials

and road events take us through the

festive season with limited opportunity

for protracted celebrating. Oh, yes,

there are still the odd spectacular

binges, but it doesn’t amount to a full

scale Yuletide like they used to make.

Now the suffering and enjoyment are so

close together you can’t see the join.

If you are the new competitive breed

you will not want vital energy sapped

before Christmas For example,

shopping is very laborious and heavy

work, rally painful to the calves, and

should be left to the wife, girl friend or

mum. By all means make a list for your

shopper, but don’t be too fussy, because

whatever you send people they will

already have three of them. Really, the

whole swop around is only a means of

exchanging paper and string.

At the same time, remember your tame

shopper is likely to be in the big league

as far as buying you a present is

concerned, so broad hints about

needing tubulars should hit the target.

If the girl friend is a new acquisition,

then show her a tubular, because

otherwise you may well get a couple of

small-wheel inner tubes.

This pre-Yuletide period is also that in

which the decorations are put up, so

again, a little task for the ladies.

However, if trapped into the job, then

bring back one of those synthetic silver

ones that fit in a cylinder and can be

rooted out of the roof for years.

Enquire when the tree and room are

being decorated and ensure you are out

that evening. If all deceit fails and you

are cornered into helping, then my tip

is watch out for glass balls. They roll

about all over the place, and if you

jump off a chair on to one in your

stockinged feet, then you could be out

of the game until the following

September.

In fact, chair-climbing to put paper

chains up is too much for the dedicated

thoroughbred thighs of a cyclist. That

also goes for getting them down, when

in addition to your gear-changing

fingers will be cut and bleeding from

prising out drawing pins.

Avoid small bulbous tree lights, for

they never work and can absorb three

valuable training nights. Fool with

these and you can black out half the

Mick Gambling contributed

around 5000 articles, race

reports, interviews etc for

Cycling Weekly, formerly

Cycling. They encompassed a

40-year period, 1965 to 2004

and half that period, to 1985,

included light-hearted pieces.

Many were topical for the

period, although some are still

relevant to the present time. A

taste of these will be produced

on a regular basis. Mick is

still alive and pedaling in

Norfolk.

GAMBLING … on surviving

Christmas county. Even worse, they could fuse

you permanently to the national grid.

There is a tendency for relations to

assume that because you’re an athlete

you are just the chap for blowing up

balloons. What they don’t appreciate is

that gasping for air in a race is

completely opposite to repeatedly

emptying lungs into rubber bags until

they become transparent. You will

probably get a wicked headache, a

hacking cough and shell-shock from

having balloons exploding up your

nose. For every ten balloons your

racing career will be shortened by a

season.

The adroit racing man will also avoid

the nervous tension and painful piggy-

backing of children’s parties. These

are the functions in which ceilings are

covered in jelly and kids are sick on the

carpet. Unless you hide everything

they will pocket your medals, put jam

on your tourist trial certificates and get

into the cycle shed. A trained

mechanic could not remedy in a month

the damage a small boy can do in five

minutes.

Adult parties are also dangerous for the

competitive type, because you can get

the wrong side of too much alcohol just

keeping up with the others, which

means you’ll do a personal worst in

that important race. Office and works

parties are also tricky because that pert

little typist looks even better under the

mistletoe or in what little light gets into

the brush cupboard. Very nice at the

time, but just as you are leaving for the

Christmas ‘10’ a big bloke will come to

the door and punch your face in.

Christmas is supposed to be when

families get together. It is also when

relatives talk about other relatives

unable to be present. Try some cycling

talk and you will just get a huge pool of

silence. Just when you want to get into

an aggressive Engers mood for a race

the jolly kinsfolk will be working

relays on the conversation with the

latest news of their bad backs and

weight problems.

You may feel all my gratuitous advice

is out of keeping with your proper

seasonal spirit. If so, I’ll see you down

the pub.

Santa beat Gambling in the

sprint by this much!

Happy Christmas.


Buoyed by the success of the

2009 Series (and the fact that

it’s front-man Ian Cammish

was unable to off-load his

white Guerciotti on ebay), the

Old Skool committee is

pleased to announce a further

Series for 2010. Bearing in

mind most riders found riding

25 miles ‘old skool’ too bloody

hard, changes will be made to

lessen the likelihood that any

serious injury is going to be

inflicted on any of the old fo-

gies taking part.

Long negotiations have been taking

place nationwide with organisers of

some of the country’s most prestigious

time trials in an effort to draw up a list

of suitable events. Finally, the select

five were announced at a recent press

launch which was hosted by Ian

Cammish in his front room one evening

while his wife was out with her lady

friends fleecing their husbands’ bank

accounts doing late night Christmas

shopping at Cambridge’s Grand

Arcade.

The real ‘biggy’ of the series will

undoubtedly be Team Sanjan’s hosting

of the inaugural Old Skool National 10

mile championship held in virtually

THE events for 2010 … be there AND be square!

Good Friday 2 Apr City RC Hull 10 V178

Sat 24 April Bath CC 10 U47

Sat 1 May Cambridge CC 10 F2D/10

Sat 12 Aug Team Sanjan “Old Skool National Championship 10” F2A/10

Sat 25 Sept Wrekinsport “Revenge / grudge match 10 for failed National Championship

Contenders” K52/10

PLANET X OLD SKOOL SERIES

… 2010


Cammish’s back–garden on the

superfast F2A/10 course. If he fails to

pull off a win in that, he hopes to be

able to influence Dave Poulter (of the

Wrekinsport CC) into swinging the

results in his favour in (what WILL be)

a much hyped-up revenge match in

September.

Colin ‘the Power’

Parkinson (left) took

the time trial world

by storm during

2009 by thrashing

the country’s leading

Old Skoolers into the

ground. He’s since

gone on to make a

successful career out

of advertising and

endorsements.

Whether or not he

can be ar5ed to

return for more of

the same in 2010

remains to be seen.

Photo courtesy of

Mike Anton

Bradley Johnston emerges from

the doom and gloom of a mid-winter’s

afternoon in Doncaster at the Planet X

Carcroft warehouse in little more than a

bright yellow pair of football shorts, a

skimpy black footie top, a big broad

smile and a ’cheap-as-chips’ David

Dickinson suntan to ask if Planet X is

having a road team for 2010.

Excitement all round as Dave suggests

there maybe a place available in a new

team being formed by (amongst

others….sshhhh!) Cherie Pridham ...

nudge nudge wink wink! Cammish is

aroused (unusual at his time of life) as

Dave reads through Bradley's cycling

CV. “Weaknesses...sprinting? No

problem ... you can lead out Cammish.

Just get him to 100 metres to go and

your job’s done … the race is won.

Isn’t that right Cammish? Anyone see

where Cammish went?”

The MoD at war! Not enough troops in

Iraq. Too few helicopters. And now

one of Gordon Brown’s closest

confidants retires after 33 years service

citing “irreconcilable differences” as

his reason to jump ship. This will

undoubtedly leave the MoD in really

deep poo. But just who is it? ;-)

More titter! The fastest Customer

Service team in the industry...surely?

Ian Cammish and Ray Eden are

rumoured to be heading up Planet X’s

customer service team in 2010. Eden is

reported to be eagerly looking forward

to 69 sessions in an evening

(presumably these will be fitting

sessions?) while Cammish has his eyes

firmly set on Planet Xs record for

answering as many email enquiries as

possible in a day. He’s started as he

means to go on with monosyllabic

answers (… erm … like ‘yes’ and ‘no’)

irrespective of the complexity of the

enquiry. God help Planet X and its

customers.

… and … which ‘has-been’ yearning

for the long lost glory days of old is

now training full-time in his bid to turn

back the clock? Marathon training

sessions with sparring partner

23minman have started … updates to

be found on the TT Forum!


THE TT CHARITY FUND’S

CALENDAR IS GOING FAST!

The first run of 500 of is almost sold out … but the next

order is on its way. Oder now in time for Christmas.

A copy signed by all the lovely ladies...and not so lovely

men...will shortly be auctioned on ebay with the winning

bid going to the charities. Keep your eyes open here

http://www.timetriallingforum.co.uk/

To order your copy contact:

[email protected]

or

[email protected]

… only a fiver!

Planet X and Testing Times enjoy

a little titter

titter

titter

titter

titter

Now a fixed wheel stalwart

answers a few questions. This

ex-Bournemouth Jubilee

Wheeler was the terror of

Ringwood in the 70’s. He is

none other than Nick Frewin

who many may remember from

his DQ at the 1979 ‘25’

National Championships when

seeded and a favourite for a

medal. He came to the start

line without his lock ring

would you believe! Thanks to

the Legends Thread on the TT

forum he came out of hiding

and has made a recent

comeback, once again on a

trusty fixed wheel machine.

He says he will give it a

serious go next year even if

he’s moved up ‘norf’. We say

good luck to you Nick - Old

Skool would be game on for

you!

Full name? Nick Frewin despite what

my Mum thinks - don't know why but

she thinks my name is Nicholas. I used

to get called Nicky by Bill McMullen,

long time president of BJW.

Height? 6' 2"

Weight? Around 13st at present.

Place of residence? Sheffield now, I

ended up here in a round about way,

but mainly due to work.

Current club? JE James RT. I ride

for them mainly cos I've bought most

of my new equipment from them. Still

might rejoin BJW, but being with JE

James means I should be able to get on

to the V718 easier!

Most memorable moment? 3 things

here - 1. Being part of the most

important 25 ever.... Alf's 49 on E72; 2.

Getting stopped from riding the 79

National 25 due to not having a lock

ring fitted to the sprocket of my fixed

machine; and 3. Going under in the ‘79

Crabwood medium Gear 25 - 59:18 to

Tony Doyle's 58:44 and thereafter

being on chatting terms with a World

Champion.

Most embarrassing moment? Same

as no 2 above. Getting a start number

of 90 in a National (when the National

field was still only 120), being

mentioned in the pre-race article in the

comic as a contender, and then not

even being allowed to turn a pedal

having driven 150-odd miles to get

there.

Who was your boyhood hero? My

dad, I used to like to look at the few

photos he had of himself when he was

racing at Herne Hill. And of course

Eddy Merckx, still in my opinion the

best ever.

Biggest influence on your career?

There are a few, Eddy Merckx as

already mentioned, but also within the

Jubilee, 'Atty' (ie George

Attenborough), one of those stalwart,

rock steady, totally dependable

clubmen and William Suttie, who was

my best mate and a fast junior when I

started. Getting to be good enough to

beat him was my objective for the first

couple of years.

Campagnolo or Shimano? Definitely Campag in the 70s/80s. No

preference now, very little these days

has the beauty of the original Campag

Nuovo Record rear mech.

Favourite musical group or singer?

Pink Floyd and Christina Aguilera

Educational attainment 5 GCEs

What’s the most trouble you have

gotten into? Never really got into

trouble!!

Pet hates? Germans, Americans and

Australians.... order variable depending

on what's happening at the time. And

dickhead drivers!!

Your best achievement is? 59:18 on

a medium gear.

Current job? Higher Executive

Officer with a Govt Department.

Current make of car Nissan Qashqai

Married or single? Married

Best TV show? Heroes or anything

on Eurosport.

Best film? Top Gun

THE EX-TERROR OF

RINGWOOD TAKES TIME OUT

WITH NOB’S Q & A SESSION

Nick in a Gentleman’s 2up

with his dad from 1978


Favourite actor and actress Long

time favourite is Erica Eleniak... people

will have to Google her... but a few

clues Baywatch and Under Siege. But

she'd have to fight Lindsay Lohan for

me. Not got a favourite actor..........

just as well you're not asking the

Missus this question, there wouldn't be

room in one addition of Testing Times.

Favourite drink? Grolsch

Favourite food? Pizza

Which country would you most like

to visit? Japan

Is there anything you would change

throughout your cycling career? Despite having some talent at TTs my

love was probably track racing. My

ultimate would have been to be a 6 day

rider. Unfortunately, living in

Bournemouth there was no opportunity

to really give the track a go. We had

Poole Track League which was a

circular path round a cricket pitch, or

Southampton 30 mile away, which was

at least track shaped but with a very

shallow banking. We also had Calshot

for winter training. There was no

league like there is now.... so there was

no chance of progressing on the track

without moving away, and that just

didn't happen in those days. I really am

envious of the current set up with the

BC Academy for up and coming riders.

Favourite piece of cycling kit you'd

like to own or own? My Roy Thame

track frame, which did come out to

play this year and got me a 22,

although it is way too big by today's

standards.

Favourite Time Trial Course and

why? P201... because it was my local

course and where I had my greatest

successes. Also the H1, because of the

nostalgia that went with it. How many

great riders will have lined up to start

in Pangbourne Lane?

What advice can you give to up and

coming cyclists? Set yourself targets

with rewards to go with achieving

those targets, e.g. new bits of kit.

10 years from now you will be…? No idea........ Retired and hopefully

riding my bike. After my recent

incident with a car, I’ve yet to get on

my bike again, even on rollers or the

turbo.

What can’t you live without? Tootifrewti.......... errrrr that's Mrs

Frewin when on the time trialling

forum.

What other interests do you have? How much paper have you got .........?

Bonsais, flying model gliders..... and

more recently a rekindling of my

enjoyment of sailing since me and

Helen... (That’s yet another name

that Mrs Frewin uses) bought a small

yacht on Derwent Water in the Lakes.

Who would you share a desert island

with if marooned and why? Tootifrewti... cos she's my soul

mate........... but I'd have to hide Vicky

Pendleton in a palm tree somewhere.

Favourite clothing material (PVC,

Lycra, wool etc..) Lycra....... women

cyclists in Lycra … mmmmmmmmm.

Thank you Nic for being so candid and

wish you success in 2010.

May I wish all our readers and our

Editorial Team and Contributors a very

Merry Christmas and Happy New

Year. I hope my small articles have

been entertaining and that Lord

Cammish has been pleased with my

efforts on nearly 1 year of Testing

Times.

Sir Nob of Two Ghiblis

Nick riding a Kiveton Park Evening 10 during 2009


The Testing Times - December 2009

Documents

future of testing times

readers of testing times

planet x hq

ian cammish

planet xs new tt frame

worldwide web cammish

merry christmas

spare time