|The green at Tatsfield Village as seen through the frame of my Kona.|
I've started wearing my gloves and a jumper. Andy and I stood on the green wondering where to go. To be honest, this week I thought Jon would be going as we spoke on the phone and I was awaiting his familiar ring tone on the iphone, but it never came. Had it done so, we'd have probably 'done a short one' to Woodmansterne Green, a journey Andy and I are never that keen on because it's so suburban and, quite frankly, boring – until you reach the green, which is a pleasant enough sort of place and for me holds pleasant memories of chewing the fat with Jon in the cold weather leading up to the last Christmas. If you check back on this blog you'll notice that we, Andy and I, went there on Boxing Day.
Andy and I reached Tatsfield only to find two blokes drinking from cans of Stella – at 8 o'clock in the morning! Now, we've all done it, I know, but there comes a time when drinking strong lager for breakfast just isn't cricket and I found myself inwardly looking at them with disgust while thinking 'how could they do that?' Mind you, not that long ago I was in Munich, or just south of it, and I visited a fantastic hotel where the traditional breakfast is white sausage, sweet mustard and, wait for it, a huge, trumpet-shaped glass full of really decent German lager – fantastic! Did it 'set me up for the day'? Probably, but drinking a can of Stella, without the white sausage and the mustard while standing up in a pub car park – well, it doesn't have that ring to it.
|The Pope – he's Catholic, you know!|
We talked about IVF treatment and people who can't have kids and Andy says it shouldn't be available on the NHS – and nor should boob jobs, he added. I agreed with boob jobs, but I'm not sure about IVF, but its a debate that could run and run.
Tea drank, cereal bars eaten, conversation over there was nothing for it – we'd have to cycle home.