Tatsfield village

A field halfway along the B269 and yards from where Andy and I parted company.

Sunday 13 March 2011: Having watched Top Gear recently and got a little excited about (ahem) the Skoda Yeti, I was amazed not only to see one – in Tatsfield – but to discover that it wasn't exactly of Chelsea Tractor proportions. Andy and I were sitting at the village bus stop gassing about something or other and there it was and we both agreed that we'd like one – not that either of us have the money, but that's another issue.

Andy on the B269 prior to parting company.

So, Tatsfield Village. We're here because it's a good destination, not too boring, a fairly good distance away and there's a covered bus stop to shelter from the weather. Mind you, it is fast becoming our default destination, but that's because of the state of my bike – gears and rear brake are buggered – and the run to the village is not big on steep hills. It's still a good 16-mile round trip.

It was hard to believe I was only 30 minutes or so away from civilisation

Compared with Saturday, Sunday's weather was not good. Later in the day (around 3pm) it rained and I took shelter in a Costa Coffee shop, watching the rain dribble from the awning, but on the ride it was damp and misty. The word 'misty' is an understatement; up on Botley Hill it was very thick fog – a real pea soup as they say – and yes, you've guessed it, I had no lights.

We managed to avoid a soaking, although I picked up a wet arse, courtesy of no mudguards, but that was the height of any problems we encountered.

Andy's found a new way home along a dirt track half way along the B269 on the return trip, so we parted company in fog and vowed to meet again next week. I stopped and took a few photographs and they illustrate this post.