Hi Listers, As the daffodils are in bloom in Gloucestershire, some of you may be interested in my Mum's memories of 'Springtime in Gloucestershire in the 1930s', when she and my father were members of a Bristol cycling club called the Fishponds Wheelers. This was posted to the Bristol_and_Somerset list last week, but today two photographs of the cycling club have been added to the account, which is now on my web site on the following page: http://www.ianandjo.dsl.pipex.com/family/memories/memories10.htm It's interesting to see the fashion for youth at the time -- plus fours and tartan socks! Josephine -------------------------------------------------------------------------- During the 1930s, I belonged to a cycling club, which was based in a suburb of Bristol. Most weekends, even in winter, club members would meet on Saturday afternoons about 2.30 p.m. We met at this time because everyone worked either a half or full day on Saturdays. Those that worked all day had to meet us at some point on the Sunday. We all enjoyed our cycling weekends, but springtime was always very special to us. It was wonderful to be cycling along with the fresh air blowing in our faces and even if it was raining we didn't mind too much. I will always remember cycling weekends, which we spent in Gloucestershire. Our destination was Mitcheldean in the Forest of Dean so the most direct route was on the A38 to Gloucester. We stopped for about 15 minutes at a favourite roadside cafe then pedalled on. There was no time to linger in Gloucester as we still had some distance to go so leaving the city we took the Ross road and eventually branched off to Mitcheldean. We had to book to stay at the Youth Hostel for Saturday night, each person paying one shilling for the accommodation, but as we all earned so little in those days we brought our own food for the weekend though milk was purchased from the hostel warden. Sometimes, on a cycling trip, before we arrived we would call at a farm for eggs and the farmer's wife would pack straw around them so that they would not break. My mother would put some cold cooked potatoes in grease-proof paper and these were added to our fry-ups. We paid an extra penny each for the use of cooking facilities. After breakfast, the next morning, we had to roll up our cotton sleeping bags, which had been tied, by tape, to the bed posts, then shake out the blankets and leave them folded neatly. Before our hostel cards were returned to us, everyone had duties to perform. The warden would tell us what they had to be. It could be sweeping the dormitories, cleaning windows, even preparing vegetables for the hostellers coming in that night who were not self-caterers. As it was always shared work, it always seemed fun and was never a chore. On completion of the tasks, our cards were returned to us and we were on our way. In springtime, the wild daffodils grew around Newent and Dymock. The farmers charged abut 6d. to let people into their fields to pick the flowers. We always gathered them very carefully and put leaves around the bunches to protect them. Later, we would meet the other club members who couldn't come the previous day. After spending the afternoon together, we would share out the daffodils with them, then return to Gloucester and the A38. The homeward journey always seemed much longer than the outward journey. If the wind was blowing hard then cycling was difficult, it always was on this road. When we were quite close to Bristol, if it wasn't raining we would stop and have a natter. We would all agree that the weekend was a success and look forward to another weekend in Gloucestershire during springtime in the following year. -- Josephine's Books, Ian's Pages, The Clutton 'Do' and the Glamorganshire Canal. http://www.ianandjo.dsl.pipex.com