Today was the first of the bike club's Second Sunday Runs – a regular monthly social ride with a definite leader and destination. But with the programme for the rest of the season already complete, no-one had yet stepped up to lead today's. Hats off to Nick who volunteered at the last minute to guide us to the bacon sandwiches of Yeovil Junction.

Immediately after setting off we were embroiled in a traffic jam of Ashley Heath car boot sale enthusiasts. We made better progress than they did, but it was still painful. And pointless: callmemadam had been there two hours earlier. There were no more bargains to be had.

Once clear, the minor roads of Dorset – Horton, Witchampton, Tollard Royal - were a sheer delight in the warm sunshine. That's what I call a social ride, miles away from cold weather gear and serious A31 congestion. This year's first ride in me leathers, and first descent of Zig Zag Hill, officially Britain's twistiest road.

Much of the route was familiar but Nick knew an excellent back road from Sherborne to Yeovil via Thornford, Yetminster and Ryme Intrinseca. Why anyone would want to travel on the mundane A30, when for just a few extra miles they could visit these delightful spots, is a mystery. What's more it took us to our destination without passing through the town. Or most of us ... a few SMS messages rounded up the final stragglers including huskyteer.

Yeovil Junction has numerous attractions including a charming steam locomotive that shunts up and down, but the buffet was closed. As were Pen Mill station's on the other side of the town, and the Sherborne establishment. Having left quite a few by the wayside, at this point we final four hardcores headed South via Cerne Abbas for guaranteed coffee at Dorchester's Top O'Town. At home I rounded off a suitably relaxing Easter day with Robert Aldrich's Flight Of The Phoenix – a favourite since I saw it at the Embassy, Chesham in 1965.

Well, both the bike and my heated clothing managed to hold themselves together this morning for 60 miles of rural Dorset and Wilts, on a ride from Avon Forest via Verwood, Cranborne, 6d Handley and Ebbesbourne Wake, up to Ansty for a look at its charming pond, and home via a cuppa at Compton Abbas airfield.

Things are looking good for huskyteer's ride to Flanders next weekend.

Fancied giving the new gloves a road test today, but spotted whilst doing my weekly checks yesterday that the bike had a puncture in the rear tyre. Pressure was down to 15psi instead of 42, but not knowing when it had happened, I couldn't tell how severe this was. I left the nail in the tread, rather than make things worse by removing it. This morning I found it had lost about 8psi overnight. I decided to test it under load, and with gauge, pump, and kneeling mat in the top-box, and RAC Recovery as a long-stop, headed off.

Stopped at Avon Forest, after eight miles, and found the pressure was now 2.5psi higher than when I left home, because the tyre had warmed up. Whether it should really have been higher still, I didn't know, but at least it had gone up, not down. Thus encouraged I joined other club members on a ride to Sparkford via Salisbury and Shaftesbury. It was lovely to be out and about on uncrowded roads, plenty of overtakes to be had, fingers nice and toasty.

75 miles later, after a cuppa at the Haynes Motor Museum, the tyre pressure was a mere 2.5psi below normal. I decided this was OK, re-pumped it up, and headed for home via Sherborne, Sturminster Newton, and Blandford.

The puncture's in the centre of the tread and looks as though it might be repairable. On the other hand, the tyre was due for replacement within the next 1,000 miles or so anyway – was planning to get it done at the next service. Glad to know it'll probably get me to work tomorrow. I'll see whether the shop will repair it but contact the mobile tyre replacement people as well.

ETA Nice pic by Roger - thanks!

"Brace yourselves", advised Met man John Hammond last night, "for a wet and windy weekend." But it looked as though today might provide a bit of a window. After a very stormy night this morning was bright and sunny, though with lots of surface water on the way to the Bere Regis rendezvous. Fields were under water and stretches of the A31 were flooded. No complaints, for light traffic allowed plenty of overtakes before entering the 40mph limit at the World's End.

I was miles too early, but spent time fuelling bike and self, and attending to other bodily needs including vanity. The bike would shortly become a great deal less shiny. huskyteer and our two companions arrived, and we set off for a mystery destination in Somerset, starting with a minor road to Milborne St Andrew and cleverly by-passing Dorchester via Piddlehinton and Charminster.

The A356, passing close to quaintly named Toller Porcorum and alongside the government VT Communications World Service transmitter at Rampisham Down, is a pleasant upland route with countryside views and plenty of bends. Many of these were under water, mandating circumspect progress, especially for the small of wheel among us. Crewkerne was enjoying Saturday morning shopping in the sunshine: we pressed on to Stoke-sub-Hamdon nestled at the foot of Ham Hill. But the pub was shut, and so our coffee stop was the mundane Cartgate Roundabout lorry park near Yeovil. Here it started to look as though we'd seen the last of the sunshine.

Hestercombe Gardens, the other side of Taunton, was selected as the lunch stop. As we headed off there via the A303 and A358, it started to rain, and we reached Taunton in a steady downpour. It's a much larger town than I'd thought, and navigational difficulties increased our exposure. Upon arrival we were in no mood to appreciate the Lutyens design or Jekyll planting, but a plate of lasagne went down well while my gloves dried on a radiator. Well done to Hestercombe for its hospitality and for being the Somerset Fire Brigade HQ as well.

Perhaps after lunch the rain would have stopped. No such luck, but there was enough blue to make skimpy hipsters for a lightly built matelot, and as we re-re-navigated Taunton the sun reappeared. Just like the morning, but now with even more surface water, we rode through charming Somerset villages: Thornfalcon, Hatch Beauchamp, Curry Mallet, Fivehead. At Curry Rivel we were admiring a rainbow straight ahead, when a navigational glitch required a 180 and heading back into the sun's glare instead.

But we soon arrived at our destination, well chosen to suit huskyteer's tastes: the Somerset Distillery at Kingsbury Episcopi. Below the farmyard, orchards stretched away, the source of the Stoke Red and Kingston Black apples among the 40 varieties grown there. In the shop surrounded by barrels, vats and presses, samples of cider and apple brandy were on offer, tempting had I not been on wheels. As well as these and sparkling cider (méthode champenoise) they provide apple juice – cox, russet, or bramley – and fortified wines blended from juice and brandy. It's more than 30 years since Coates stopped coming up from Somerset, but a fine tradition lives on.

After a very windy ride home I stuck my nose in a glass of Five Year Old and agreed: autumn leaves, ripe fruit, wild flowers. It's less fiery than Calvados, with a spicy aftertaste, smooth and satisfying. A storm's raging outside and the bike's going to need a good clean tomorrow, but for now ... mmm, sippers.