Next Sunday, I lead the club run over Peckforton way, so I must needs do a little scouting.  It was after dinner when I managed to get out, owing to the new rear wheel, which had only just arrived.  I joined the usual route via Atherton, Glazebury, Chat Moss and over Warburton Bridge, reaching Heatley in good time.  Beyond High Legh, my resolutions began to waver, and almost unconsciously I turned towards Arley.  ‘Be hanged to the run’, I thought, as I stood admiring the Mere, ‘I know the route, and can easily write to the lunch place (to order lunch)’.  And so, with a free mind, I let my fancy take full control, and the wheel go where it would.  It led me through Arley Green, it took me to the village, it wandered into a maze of bylanes, going hither and thither, almost doubling on its tracks many times.

Time was getting on when I took control, and quickly reached Antrobus.  A woody lane put me between High Legh and Comberbach and Little Leigh, but here again I lost control and wandered through sunken lanes, at last ending at a farm by the Weaver.  There was only one way to avoid returning a mile or two, and I accepted it.  It was the towing path on the canal bank, a dirtier two miles would be hard to find, for many times I went over ankles in mud, but at length emerged triumphantly on the dip between Little Leigh and Acton Bridge.  A few moments later, I was having tea at Mrs Brocklehurst’s, Bartington.  After giving instructions over the tea next Sunday, I once more, with lamp lit, joined the Little Leigh road, where, at the post office, I sent off a letter to Beeston, then speeding up, quickly reached Comberbach and Gt. Budworth.  The tricky, dark, lanes took me to High Legh, then Broom Edge and Warburton Bridge once more.  At Rixton, I heard someone behind me, and soon found that I was pacing him.  He rode a roadster, and was geared a great deal higher than me.  For a while I could not shake him off, but I had a card up my sleeve.  The first climb told the tale, for with my low gear of 61 inches, I left him easily.  ‘Geared too high, my friend’, I chuckled as I sped across Chat Moss.  I reached home at 9.30pm.                                                                                                 70 miles