Most people love to see their name in print so your correspondent has set himself the task of reporting on the annual Vuelta Mallorca while mentioning every rider. This will guarantee at least twenty two readers.

The advance party led by Ken Perkins arrived on Thursday. The weather was decidedly mixed but by the time your correspondent arrived from Luton on Monday it had improved dramatically. There were no reports of heroics and it seems that the earlier rain had severely curtailed activities and the advance party had got no further than Campernet Caves and Petra.

With the arrival of Ramon things moved up a gear or two and a fast group was established. The Orient was visited for the first time and surprisingly Derek was the man in form on the climb although the odd couple Terry and Cyril had been showing some form on the lower slopes.

The next day a gang of four went to Cap Formentor. Ramon was the last to arrive having been thrashed by Yvonne but he made an early departure from the cafe and only Ken Perkins managed to catch him. Ramon headed for Campernet where he met John Barton and his Scottish sidekick Dougie for afternoon tea. Suitably fortified they then dashed back to Càan Picafort at a great rate. Yes it is true, when Tam. gets his bulk rolling on a flat road he can press on good style.

On the Friday the Laughing Group arrived. The usual suspects were all present and correct apart from David Livingstone who was sin bicycletta. He did, however, have a doctoràs note excusing him. A surprise addition to the party was Kevin Reilly but more about him later.

The advance party had discovered a very pleasant bar run by a very friendly Morrocan.

It was generally agreed that the Campo Cruz beer was an improvement on the San Miguel at our previous haunt. Furthermore our new host gave us a generous choice of free drinks at the end of the evening rather than the usual ñcough mixtureî.

Sadly your correspondent, who was celebrating his birthday,† can relate little about that Friday night save to say that the friendly Morrocan rescued him when he was at a low ebb and despatched him home safely.

There may well have been a run on the Saturday but your correspondent knows nothing of it as he was confined to his room for most of the day.

On Sunday a large group headed in the direction of Randa but only Ginty, Ramon and R.A. Robson made the climb to the santuaria for mass. The slackers chose to remain in an elegant restaurant at the foot of the climb. Meanwhile in another cafe Di Moyes, in the time honoured fashion of British tourists everywhere, decided to have a cultural experience† and try a Mallorcan lunch. Snail soup for starters with frog to follow.

The next day the grouppo followed the Cami de Muro in the direction of Santa Maria. Ramon attacked at the entry to the Forest of Arrenberg but he was chased down by Kevin Reilly. It soon became clear that all was not well with big Kev., the boasting stopped, he could not handle the big ring, Ramon had no choice but to abandon him at the roadside and press on alone. Eventually Kevin was bundled into the sag wagon (well a taxi actually) and sent back to the hotel. Ramon pressed on over the Coll de Hono to the Orient and then as previously agreed via Llosetta and Selva to Lluc. Alas the rest bottled out of the second climb.

Mention must be made of the achievement of Ginty who rode a permanent randonee taking in all the major climbs on the island. The total distance was 146 miles which is long way by any standard. He declined to say how long he was on the road but it was still light (just) when he got back so he must have been cracking on in places.

Each year the social riders like to test their mettle on the Orient ride. They went via Inca where they stopped for cafe. Ken Beck, Paul Mayor and Terry Dolan caught up at this point but Ramon, who had followed the Cami de Plod, through Buger and Campernet as recommended by Geoff Hornby, was still chasing. The group split apart on the climb with Joan Bradley and Tam at the rear. Di Moyes† was going well on her super new Roberts compact† with Dougie chatting away at her side. Further ahead was ñthe boyfriendî who was going well for a raw novice. Nevertheless he must have been disheartened to be dropped by Miss Mayor who was climbing like a good un. First man on the road at this point was the Pocket Rocket Alan Clark but he was beginning to struggle. We all regrouped in Bunyola and then enjoyed a downwind cruise to Santa Maria for luncheon.†††

Vuelta regulars will know that the hardest climb on the island is the Coll de Puig Mayor which climbs to over 1000 metres. Your correspondent believes it is an essential test of manhood to complete this stage each year. The night before there were four riders up for it. Ginty, R.A. Robson, Keith Coppell and Ramon. However come the depart there was no sign of Robert Albert. Apparently he had been muttering over breakfast that he was nearly seventy and he did not see the point of killing himself.† Hardly the Dunkirk Spirit is it? The intrepid threesome set off in the direction of Pollensa with Ginty to the fore. At eighteen miles as the climb to Lluc† began Ramon was distanced.† At the foot of the Coll de Soller he got to within 150 metres of Ginty and his eternal shadow Keith but they pulled away again on the climb. Ramon finally rejoined the front group at the feeding station at Santa Maria after a chase of forty seven miles. All that remained was twenty five mainly flat miles along the Cami de Muro back to Can Picafort.

On the drag into Muro Ginty launched a vicious attack but Keith and Ramon clung onto his wheel. At that point Ginty new he was beaten but he continued to swap turns with Ramon while† Keith just managed to hang on. As the group swung into the finishing straight Ginty launched his sprint, Keith was immediately dropped but Ramon surged past with both arms aloft and ten digits spread wide to signify his tenth victory in Mallorca ( more likely his childish obsession with the Johan Museeuw, ed.). After 92 gruelling miles Ginty had lost by half a wheel.††††††

Following the departure of Ken Beckàs group your correspondent remained on the island for three more days. Showing a singular lack of imagination he† went round the Orient for the fourth time. He also went to Colonia de Sn. Pedro off the Arta road. This is a pleasant seaside hamlet and apart from the long drag back to the main road it is a superb recovery ride yet so far as I can recall our party has not been there. Perhaps next year.

No report on the Southport C.C. in Mallorca would be complete without a Brooism. The main man was not as active on the bike as in previous years due to some discomfort in the saddle area. Surprisingly he declined to take Yvonne up on her offer to apply a bread poultice. Perhaps he thought Spanish bread was too crusty for the purpose. However he remained in good form in the bar, particularly the night that he and Cyril went wild on the brandy. It was bad timing, to put it mildly, that the next day he was booked on a coach/boat trip round the island.† He did however avert a conflagration in a seedy cantina† when he spotted smoke behind the counter and enquired of the owner ñwhatàs the Spanish for your binàs on fireî?

As always the package tour experience left something to be desired. The Clumba Mar had the feeling of a detention centre for delinquents or possibly a tatooistsà convention. The food was instantly forgettable yet, paradoxically,† your correspondent compensated for the lack of quality by eating too much. Word from the Monte Carlo was that the food was little if any better there.

All the best from your Metropolitan Correspondent.