The Flyer asked the question: "Big girl's blouse or Alleycat?". Apparently, the race had originally been scheduled for the week before, but when the time to race had come around, rain clouds looked ominously heavy & dark, so the so-called cream of London couriers demurred. Yes, that's right, at the sight of a bit of rain, Elliott (formerly known as the "King", now known as the "Queen"), Barnes and all the rest WIMPED OUT. Of course, in my day, we would never have been put off by a bit of rain, Gorblimey guv, we looked forward to it, 'cos of course we never 'ad bathing facilities back then, I mean inside toilet, don't make me larf, if it rained it meant that at least we could scrub off a bit of the grime that was forever caked onto our leathery skin...
anyway, a total field of 18 assembled in Clerkenwell Green for the start. Unusually the organisers Chang & Greg had printed up some instructions. Not that anybody read them, but still, it left the organisers in a much better position when considering post-race appeals (as in "whine, whinge, moan etc" "but did you read the instructions?" "no, but moan groan grumble" "but did you read the instructions?" "no but - " " well fuck off then"). Greg dished out a load of sweets and away we went to Accident & Emergency (that's the Emergency Room in American) of University College Hospital. According to the instructions we had to lock our bikes, and then run in. So 18
messengers delivered sweets to UCH, and after we came out we were told the next c/point. At Jason Court, Stringer, actually doing something useful for a change, insisted that we put on a pair of knickers (unfortunately not M & S), and then there was a stop around the back of Berkeley Sq for a vodka tonic, and into the heart of Soho to Cafe Nero, a much-loved c/point from the very first Frostbite Series way back in 94/95.
Then came the funniest bit of the race: we were given a quid twenty to buy a bottle of beer from Tesco Metro in Covent Garden. Picture the scene: a packed supermarket on a Friday night with 18 half-crazed couriers running around the aisles in ladies underwear. This was by far and away the best moment. Neil dashed to the front of the queue with his bottle of beer, saying "I'm in a race, I've got a pair of knickers on, please can I jump the queue?"
After Hungerford Bridge, there was usual mucking about on the south side of the water, Walnut Tree Walk (South East fucking Eleven), somewhere off Gt Suffolk St, somewhere in Boro Mkt and then pier 8 of Blackfriars Bridge. I still haven't found out which muppet thought Southwark Bridge was Blackfriars Bridge... ...at this last c/point we all had to drink our bottles of beer. And then off up Farringdon St. By now the chasers, BB, Wingnut, the Queen, Barnesy & Sputnik had caught the leader Neil and as we left the last the Queen stormed off in a long lead and seemed certain to win but went off course and then got chased by police car down Cowcross St. So it was that Barnes won the ticket & the special Timbuk2 Alleycat winners bag.
For a first time effort by the organisers, that race is going to take some beating...