Iced up derailluers, now that takes me back. Country lanes so filled with shiny black ice we could see our faces in it, some riders at rather closer range than they wanted... Stopping every couple of miles to chip out the frozen slush jammed between the wheel and mudguard...

On the other hand, though... we were usually so well wrapped up that the only part of my body which got cold was the tip of my nose. Arriving at the lunch stop (a real ale pub, since you ask) to all sit round a roaring log fire. Snowball fights in the beer garden. Trying to unwrap yourself for the inevitable pee stop five miles down the road, without either wetting yourself or freezing important (if unwanted) body parts...

God I just wish I was well enough to climb back on my bike again.

Penny