Uphill All The Way – Pies & Politics (Melton Mowbray to Newark)

Published on: 1 Jun, 2014
Updated on: 2 Jun, 2014

This is the seventh report on the author’s progress in his bid to cycle from Guildford to Edinburgh. The reports follow: Uphill All The Way – The Idea and Uphill All The Way – The Plan (Part One) and Uphill All The Way – The Plan (Part Two)

All Uphill All The Way articles can be found under the Leisure section heading on the front page, in their own sub-section called Uphill All The Way.

By Martin Giles

The very first person I spoke to in Newark on Trent was a canvasser for the forthcoming by-election, caused by the resignation of a Conservative MP who had been found guilty of asking parliamentary questions for cash.

I had hardly dismounted from my bike outside my bed and breakfast when he approached. I glanced at his rosette. It had an orange hue so I assumed he was a Lib Dem.

Sensing that I was someone prepared to talk to him he immediately launched into his spiel. “Paul Baggaley is the only candidates that is local. I think that is really important,” he said. His face fell as soon as I informed him that I was not a local resident and could not vote.

His shoulders sagged. “Tough work I guess,” I added sympathetically, imagining still that he was as popular as… well as… as a Lib Dem canvasser in a current by-election. He made no pretence. “Incredibly tough.”

I felt sorry for him. Not only was he facing widespread rejection but with his honest and straightforward response he had shown that he had no future in mainstream politics.

Later on, by chance, I saw the campaign office for Mr Baggaley. It turns out he is an independent. If I was from Newark he might have got my vote. It is important to have local people as our representatives.

I also passed the impressive Conservative Club, presumably the HQ for their by-election operation. Newark is a mainly rural constituency normally completely safe for the Tories. But the HQ appeared a bit deserted. Had they given up or were they all out frantically persuading the locals that only they could promise x, y and z?

But then it was 7.30pm. Perhaps they were all down the pub after a hard day being told to get lost.

The Conservative Club in Newark, were they all down the pub?

Overheard talk in the restaurant I visited later was that sinister looking men in dark suits from Conservative central office were on the streets and that all Conservative MPs had been ordered to visit the town three times during the campaign.

Surely not, I can’t imagine a more surefire way of putting voters off, voters already, by many accounts, disillusioned with the whole political scene.

The Queen’s Head on the Square in Newark looks like a lovely old pub – only let down by its yobbish customers.

There was a distinct and surprising lack of campaign posters visible. The only two I saw were at an attractive, old timbered but noisy pub, the Queen’s Head, in the town square (of which more later). It seemed full of loud men who had drunk too much.

One sported a rosette for the independent candidate. There were some noisy, ill-natured conversations in progress the intellectual quality of which was a little questionable.

The pub itself, or its owners/managers were making it clear where their loyalties lay. Two Ukip posters were in the first floor windows. Presumably they are hoping Nigel will drop in for a pint and bring his entourage.

It will be interesting to see if the Ukip vote, as seen in the Euro election, stands up here. If they only take votes from the Tories it could help a Labour victory. This was the guess of the man in the convenience store I visited, before he added: “But I understand nothing about politics.”

You and me both, my friend but if volume was anything to go by all the experts were in the Queen’s Head.

“Enough politics,” I hear you say, “what about the ride?”

The thicker brown line was the route I followed to Newark on Trent.

Anxious not to repeat the mistakes of yesterday I had a good look at the CycleStreet cross section of my route. I could see that after an initial climb out of Melton I should almost fall off a cliff to a much flatter area. Flatter sounded good, in fact it sounded great.

This was how it panned out. I climbed steadily out of the pork pie town. My knowledge that my hill climbs would be limited gave reassurance; even another stupid navigation error did not dispel my feeling that today’s cycling would be better.

After about six miles this proved to be the case when I turned into Pasture Lane to see the promised land. it was actually quite a dramatic moment. The Vale of Belvoir, famous for its hunt, lay before me. The name Belvoir (pronounced beaver) is derived from Norman French for good view. The Normans were spot on.

The view from Pasture Lane over the Belvoir Vale. A sight for sore legs - as flat as a pancake.

The view from Pasture Lane over the Vale of Belvoir. A sight for sore legs – as flat as a pancake.

It was misty and visibility was not as good as it might me on a clear day but I could see enough to know that the maps had not lied. My ride to Newark would be a level pleasure.

Another eight miles on, and roughly half way through the planned mileage I went slightly off the route into a small village of Granby. I was looking for a good spot to eat my pork pie salad.

An ideal picnic spot in Granby village.

Almost immediately I found a small green with a bench surrounding the trunk of a young lime tree. This would do fine. I carefully spread out my picnic. Took a photo for your benefit and tucked in. The pork pie did seem particularly fine: crisp pastry, soft tasty filling with a good seasoning of pepper.

A real Melton Mowbray pork pie salad with a ciabatta roll, apple juice and, for pudding, a fresh jam doughnut that had travelled surprisingly well.

I considered going into the Earl of Granby pub to wash it down but I have been drinking much more alcohol than normal over the last week (two or three pints a day) so opted for Adam’s ale instead.

Back on the bike I continued along flat, straight lanes. Nothing really caught my eye other than an escaped turkey who wisely, given it is only May, thought his chances were better back in the farm from which he had just come rather than on the open road. As soon as a car appeared he scuttled back under the hedge. Come December he should reconsider.

The escaped turkey who figured life was better back on the farm.

I also thought I spotted a yellow hammer and this was confirmed minutes later with the sound of its distinctive: “a little bit of bread and no cheeeese” song. The hedgerows have been alive with small birds and I wish I was better at recognising the different species. I might have quite a list by now.

Also noticeable was the amount of flying insects. I was bombarded at some stages. No wonder I saw several groups of swallows at work. Even I could have caught quite a few by just cycling with my mouth open. I did inadvertently swallow a couple, as it was.

Start of the old railway line stretch into Newark.

My final six or seven miles of my day’s journey were along another old railway line. Frankly it was a bit boring with hedgerow/treelines obscuring lateral views. Through one gap, though, I could see a landfill site complete with noisy machines rearranging the rubbish.

Is all this rubbish really necessary?

Large scale rubbish productions a modern phenomenon, exacerbated by the invention of plastic and our ever increasing population. I wondered how much of the rubbish mountain in front of me was really necessary. For all the talk about unnecessary packaging I have seen little change.

After my eaves dropping dinner this evening, reported earlier, I had a stroll around the town. At first I thought it looked slightly down at heel compared with Market Harborough and Melton Mowbray but then I emerged from an old fashioned shopping arcade to discover the Market Square.

The impressive, but sadly unexploited, market square in Newark.

I was amazed. It is large and very impressive. In continental towns cafes would abound. It would be the social hub. Here on a Saturday night it was almost empty, apart from the previously mentioned noisy pub. Why is it that some Englishmen imagine that anyone is even remotely interested in their inane, loud, intoxicated and sometimes foul mouthed comments?

It’s a shame. Newark town square is unusually fine. It has huge potential. Where is the cafe culture that I have seen burgeoning in other towns?

As in Wallingford, Aylesbury and Market Harborough I found granite setts that need some attention. Guildford’s High Street setts are not alone in that regard.

These granite setts in Newark show that Guildford is not the only town with a maintenca problem.

These granite setts in Newark show that Guildford is not the only town with a maintenance problem.

If someone set up business as a granite setts restorer and could offer local authorities reasonably priced contracts, for good quality work that endured, I think they would be very successful.

Also spotted were some empty and derelict units. These can be seen in all towns, of course up and down the land. I think councils should be given more power over such properties. Where owners do not keep them occupied and in good repair compulsory purchase at, say, 75% of market rate should be allowed. After all they can become blots on the townscape, affecting the appearance, attractiveness and even prosperity of the whole town.

Compton House. A fine building and excellent guest house.

As a country we also need to do more to protect our architectural heritage. Too much has already been lost. Too much of what remains is in poor condition or despoiled by neglect or tasteless incongruous development. For all our Grade I or II listings and conservation areas more needs to be done. The planning inspectorate should worry more about that than overruling democratic local council decisions.

One building that is well maintained is Compton House Georgian townhouse and my B&B. It is elegant and well proportioned. I have a bijou single room at the back but it has everything I need. The hostess could not be more welcoming or attentive.

Tomorrow I have just 20 miles to peddle to get to Lincoln where I will have my first rest day. I must a admit I am looking forward to it.

31.05.14 UATW computer data:

Miles cycled: 29.58 miles

Average speed: 10.3 (best yet)

Cycling time: 2 hours 51 minutes.

And finally, a couple of amusing signs observed: