The Tatsfield bus stop – twice!

The Tatsfield Bus Stop, September 25th 2010.

Having over-indulged on the ale on Friday night, it was touch and go as to whether I'd go cycling on Saturday morning. I woke up feeling fine (several pints, yes, but it was only 3.8 per cent abv) but there was a kind of weariness that led me to hang around and not go for an early morning jaunt. I called Jon but he was going to see Arsenal v West Bromwich Albion and couldn't make it. Alas, it was down to me to motivate myself. I'd figured on a shortish ride to Woodmansterne Green, but now it was looking like Botley Hill, but not yet, not so early.

Blue skies at the bus stop on Saturday (above) but cloud and drizzle on Sunday.

Eventually, I left the house around a quarter to nine and headed off with a mild headache, nothing the fresh air couldn't deal with; the sun was shining and while there was definitely an end of September bite to the air – and I considered gloves and a scarf, but made do with a V-necked jumper – the weather, generally was fine. It was only a little chilly cycling down hill or in the shade. In fact, once I was out and beyond that bus stop on the A269 that signifies the end of the first hilly part of the route, I was feeling fine. So fine, in fact, that I realised, foolishly perhaps, that I was in one of those moods that meant I could cycle for ever and a day. In fact, had I not been constrained by the mundanity of domesticity, I'd have probably just carried on, through Westerham, further east and God knows where I'd have ended up.

As NoVisibleLycra celebrates its first anniversary, the sign that
characterises the website is uprooted. This shot taken on Saturday 25th
September.

I planned to cycle into Tatsfield Village but on reaching the famous bus stop, I spotted the road sign that features on the home page of this blog (just look up to the top of the page and you'll see it). It had been uprooted and was lying on its side on the grass. Was it hit by a lorry or a car or had somebody deliberately uprooted it? I would never know.

I sat and drank tea alone at the bus stop, flicking my teabags on to the grass in front of the bus stop in training for a game with Andy on Sunday (we always see who can flick their teabags the furthest).

I headed back home via Beddlestead Lane and Hesiers Hill, emerging at Warlingham Sainsbury's and then heading home for a morning of cleaning out the garage.

Cycling up Hesiers Hill, I began to wish I'd gone home the 'fast way', but, like all hills, it was a matter of getting my head down and getting on with it. Soon I was home, reading the Guardian and getting ready to tidy up the garage.

Sunday (today) Andy and I went to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Why? Well, we were going to head into the village but it started to rain and we narrowly avoided a soaking, taking refuge at the bus stop where we drank tea, chatted about opening our own cycle shop and talked about this and that, although we didn't discuss Ed Miliband being appointed the new leader of the Labour Party or the Iranian president, Mr 'I'm a Dinner Jacket' having a go at the UN and blaming 9/11 on the Americans.

We cycled home the fast way, said goodbye at Warlingham Green and here I am, home and dry – we managed to avoid the rain and now it's looking a little brighter outside. I've got to make roast potatoes and cocktail sausages and I'd better get started!