New Years Eve and you send all of your well meaning texts in your contacts folder on the mobile, you promise to meet in the New Year and tell them, “You’re my best pal you are”. And think nothing of it. You get a reply that says my son is in Afghanistan with the Parachute Regiment, being the former serviceman I am you text back to tell him to keep his head down I will see him in the New Year and have a pint with him and hit send. Then you get that weird feeling that you wish you hadn’t send that text.
Track back four years earlier to the Rugby festival and a good friend says her son Pat would like to come up and play for Bullingdon. He was 17 and playing first team for Winchester. The old the bold and the stupid wandered around the park lying on people and making the odd run towards the try line or the bar! All were completely out played by this young lad who could, by the way, hold his own off the field and in the bar prior to joining the Paras.
Back to the present day and I get a text back shortly after New Year’s Day saying Pat had been blown up in Afghanistan and lost the lower part of his leg. Stunned, angry and full of sorrow thinking, “What can I do?” Like all good former athletes !! and reformed PEI‘s you encourage as many unwitting friends to raise some much needed funds to help Pat adjust to life after the IED attack. I spoke to his Mum Di, and asked what they needed and how we could help. In true forces Mum fashion she asked us to raise money for the Afghanistan Trust that had helped Pat in the initial phases after the explosion and not for them. (I had other plans!)
Then I had the idea that we would cycle from Bullingdon to the Festival of Rugby in Coventry where Pat had acquitted himself ably a few years before. I sent out the e-mail (in accordance with the IT policy!!!!) and expected a couple of reply’s . Within a day I had over 25 responses pledging support for my stupid idea.
Game on! Now how do you organise a ride from 186 miles away from the start line?? You rely on the people you used to walk the landings with that’s how. The salt of the earth colleagues pitched in with support vehicles route surveys, the Governor offered the use of the facilities at Bullingdon to start the ride from and the High Sheriff of Oxford offered to start the ride off in all of her finery along with Pat on his crutches.
All too quickly April 27th arrived (too quickly for me my bike was in the shed until two days before the ride!) I pulled round the corner of the mess to see lycra clad athletes preparing bikes and the buzz was electric, nervous chatter last minute checks and people casting doubt on my parentage for bullying them into this stupid event! Fully briefed on safety and the need to wear helmets and a compulsory smile for the whole ride we set off into the Oxfordshire countryside. The Oxfordshire countryside soon gave way to the Buckinghamshire countryside, as per my usual stance I sit at the back on these events with the tail end Charlie. On this particular occasion I was informed that his newly acquired bike computer was showing 21 miles and he was feeling good! First dilemma, do you tell him he needs to calibrate the computer to the bike? Secondly do you tell him we have only travelled 6 miles? This is gonna be a longun!
All too soon we arrived in Brackley at the war memorial to regroup, after a brief service carried out by the right Reverend Cowell , the locals were fleeced of many a penny by the support staff then we moved on towards the Warwickshire countryside. I have to say at this point that the route was absolutely stunning mostly flat and past so many houses that would cost more than a small lottery win or the price of another Invision patch! It was awesome many thanks to Kat, Tim and Jenny for the miles they put in sorting the route out for us. Lunch was organised by myself at a small pub about 15 miles short of the festival a plush affair reminiscent of the food to be served in two days time at Will and Kate’s bash, sausage rolls, scotch eggs, pasties, Haribo sweets, crisps and for the racing snakes - bananas!!!!. Refuelled and rehydrated we pushed on for the last leg. We stopped about half mile short of the festival, regrouped and called ahead to line them up at the bar.
What was the hardest part of the ride? The aching muscles in my face from all the laughter on the way. May I take this opportunity to say a massive thanks to all the riders who took part, Mr Lattimore for the use of the facilities and the supporters, drivers, vehicles, the people who pulled out all stops to help the ride go get off the ground. Also to renta crowd who followed us the whole route directing traffic and pointing the unknowing and the unwilling in the right direction. My I also take this opportunity to thank the Prison Service Charity Fund for their significant contribution to our ride funds if you are not already a member please see your Rep today this is for great causes and they need your support. And thanks to Bob Davies for allowing us to cycle to the Festival you are a star amongst men Bob.
“God is Airborne” He failed the Commando Course Tee shirts £25
Bike Computer that reads in inches! £20
Repair to Rogers van that Chris crashed in the festival car park £120
Funds raised by the riders & supporters £8199
Experience of the ride PRICELESS!!!!
Nothing can really prepare you for turning into the festival and seeing the route lined with people applauding the “Peloton” as we crossed the line some 50.2 miles (by my bike computer anyway!) later. To see Pat and Di at the end applauding us in was a moment for the sun glasses arhum! Pats step dad Simon (a former Para & landing cruiser opo from Parkhurst) carried Pats bergan that he was wearing on the day of the attack the whole route, then erected the Para Flag for the ride into the festival not a bad thought for a Para but Pat won the tattoo competition in the bar fair play mate!
Inter unit / regiment rivalries put aside in the bar it was a fantastic day, just as I planned (although some of you will think differently of my planning!) it was hard but achievable. The support was immense the generosity of the crowd at the festival was superb and the spirit of the ride just the best, please feel proud for what you have achieved for a very brave young man. It is good to know that no matter what badge you wear the colour of your Beret or the size of you frame when the chips are down we are one unit.
I now unashamedly use my strap line to all of our readers if you would like to add to our total please contact me at HMP Dartmoor;
They gave for you. Please give for them.
For the lucky ones that made it home we will look after you. For absent friends:
They shall not grow old as we grow old
Age shall not weary them
Nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We shall remember them
Paul Cowell.
