Saturday, 19 March 2011

Andy locked out of his garage and Jon turns up – in his car!

For whatever reason, I awoke this morning at 0400hrs and eventually decided to get out of bed, make a cup of tea and some bread and marmalade and check out the emails and stuff. No, I didn't look at anything dodgy, just the emails and work-related stuff and then it was time to head off to Warlingham Green.

Woodmansterne Green taken in November 2009 I think.
 I dropped Andy a text explaining how I was running about five minutes late and then, as I pedalled along Church Way there was a message from Andy. Ding! "You're on your own, I can't get into my garage." Or words to that effect. I dabbled with the idea a. of going home. b of going alone to Botley Hill or the Tatsfield Bus Stop or c. calling Jon and heading over to Woodmansterne Green – for the first time this year. I opted for the latter and agreed to meet Jon around 8am.
Andy: locked out of his garage, he aborted.

Jon: ignore that bike, today he drove to Woodmansterne!

All the way there I took it easy and when I reached the Green and sat down on Jean Merrington's memorial bench, I awaited Jon's arrival. Out came the tea and, as I sat there, I noticed Jon over at the newsagent's  clasping the Saturday edition of the Times. Where, I wondered, was his bike? He'd been trying to reach me on my mobile, unaware that it had run out of power (so I couldn't take any photographs as I didn't have the camera with me).

He'd come by car! What a cheek! First Andy can't get into his garage and then Jon turns up on four wheels. His excuse? He had a slow puncture – that had gone flat – and his pump had broken.

I didn't matter. We strolled around chatting about this and that and then I cycled home while he drove. Still, I got the exercise, although my bike is need of repair: no rear brake, a rusty chain, the gears are buggered, so all-in-all it's a bit dangerous, but I can handle it. Of course, when I reached West Hill I walked up, miles to too steep at the Sanderstead Road end to climb with wonky gears.

Home at 0945, I mowed the lawn, ate lunch in the garden under an umbrella – it was positively balmy, to coin an Andy Smith phrase, drank a bottle of Alhambra, a Spanish beer, and then kicked a football around, vacuumed out the inside of the car and went to see mum and dad.

Dad's still got his awful moustache. I might have mentioned it before: it's green, or some kind of funny colour. As I said to Jon this morning, it looks like an old woman's minge. Horrible! Dad's not on-line, so he won't read this, otherwise I'd say, "Dad! Shave it off!"


  1. whats up with the gears? I have found once they gear change plays up, its best to spend the reddies on chain, cluster and I now fit XTR cables ( fantastic!). works a treat.

  2. Hi Simon. Hope all's well. It's the front crank, it won't change down to the smaller one. I'll fix it but money tight at the moment.

  3. Minge as in domesticated housecat, or...?

  4. Minge as in (ahem) an important part of the female anatomy – but in this case what I'd imagine one looks like on a centenarian.