'Four teas, please' I ask the charming lady, adding 'and four slices of cake'. 'Four teas, Doris' she suggests mildly to the lady behind with a kettle in her hand, filling many china teapots and an eclectic collection of mugs. It looks orderly, no suggestion of chaos, but this is without doubt the hardest, yet most fun part of the Bollington Nostalgia Hill Race. There is some discussion regarding the price, an agreement reached and the cash handed over. The first lady returns 'here's some money' presumably the change. Another lady appears with the cake, four thick wedges of lemon cake on a single small plate. Those behind me chuckle at my apparent greed. 'Can I help you?' the first lady again asks. 'Yes, we're waiting for four teas'. 'Four teas Doris' she shouts behind.
'I've got two teas' replies Doris. 'Anyone waiting for two teas' the first lady asks the queue. 'Yes, I'll have two teas' shouts someone behind me in the queue, 'and two pieces of cake'. 'That man has the cake' the cake lady says pointing at me'. 'Why has he got the cake' asks the original lady, and then requests the cake back so she can serve the man behind. 'I've bought the cake and I'm waiting for my tea' I chip in, trying to sound authoritative, and now a little defensive regarding my cake which appears to be in the process of being requisitioned. 'You're waiting for tea?' she asks sounding surprised. 'Yes, I'm waiting for four teas'. 'Four teas, Doris'. And so it continues! It's almost funny, in fact it is, but these teas and cake were to be life savers after a particularly tough race. 
I was not wanting to do Bollington Nostalgia. I'd rattled off a pretty watertight set of well rehearsed reasons the night before, which this morning I summarised as 'I was scared at the thought of being humiliated'. It didn't quite stack up next morning, so I went. It's a tough course, yeah I know they're all tough, but this starts on a short road uphill, out of the village before hanging a right and up into the hills. The rain held off, in fact it was sunny, but you could see the rain over the hills towards Buxton.
A bit of walking today, as did most, but I set off well back, knowing what was to come, having done this course before, and indeed been humiliated heavily. The thing about starting back is that if there are any stiles or other obstacles, there's often a bit of queueing. That was the case today, and again, there's always a few who decide queueing ain't for them and just barge in at the front. That's ok in my book if other routes are available, but a bit off if there's only one possible exit. It all came out in the wash on the next hill, I ensured! The course has plenty of hills on mixed surfaces, with gaps concertina-ring making it difficult to judge progress on those you are chasing. I was chasing today, again finding a steady start makes for a more 'entertaining' race.
Bollington has a comedy finish, an absurdly steep descent after a mile long gentle downhill, you round the bend and the ground simply falls away beneath you. 50m and you're spat out knees wobbling and arms flailing into the finishing funnel. I chased as hard as I could a guy I caught in that last mile, but on that last stretch it was a question of how much you dare take the brakes off and trust your legs not to give way. We crossed the line with me clipping his heels. Good battle, worthy of tea and cake and Mayoral presentations!
I used to live in Bollington. It's a special little village, full of 'local pubs for local people'. The house where I lived still has a wooden window box my Dad made for me, the very same I was once photographed watering by the local paper 25 or so years ago, as Bollington always did well in the Britain-in-Bloom competition. Nothing much has changed. And certainly not the wonderful tea ladies and their awesome cakes. I wouldn't change it for a thing. Like I say...special.
