It started Friday evening; I was just starting my second bottle of wine, as is my standard pre-Redhill ride preparation, when I got a message from the scheduled ride leader, Duncan, asking if I could lead the ride tomorrow. His car would not start, which was typical bad timing as he was just about to exchange it for a new one.

On gathering at the start point I was greeted with a look of horror on everyone’s faces after being informed that I was the new ride leader. We were slow to leave due to a late arrival, with a dubious excuse, blaming his newborn child.