As I write this no abort texts have been received and I haven't sent any so the ride is on, there's no rain, the roads are dry, it's all looking good. In fact, all I've got to do now, at 0652hrs, is put some socks and trainers on, make the tea and head on out, so I'd better go...talk later.
The above two paragraphs were written last week and that was as far as I went in terms of writing about last week's ride. So much for 'talk later'. In between those two paragraphs and this one, I've been to Brussels (see previous posts) and I've just returned from a ride to the Tatsfield Bus Stop with Andy.
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| Well, we've exhausted all the other shots! |
For a start the benches were dry, always a bonus now that the days are closing in and winter approaches. The bus stop becomes a regular haunt because it provides cover and dry seats, unless there's heavy wind and horizontal rain, but that's rare.
As we unpacked our 'stuff' (flask, biscuits, tea) we met the caretaker of the church, a man in his late sixties, possibly even early seventies, with an earring in his right ear and a rough, unshaven complexion. He said we could use the toilets if we wanted to, but we didn't need them. In fact, whenever we do need to answer the call of nature it's normally half way up Clarks Lane behind some bushes or behind bushes anywhere that takes our fancy. Mr Caretaker was offering the facilities of the church, not in the church, but in a flint building used to host functions and kitted out with everything you might expect for people to enjoy afternoon teas and snacks.
He told us about break-ins and how an old lawnmower was stolen. There's a store room attached to the flint outbuildings and opportunist thieves often break in and find nothing bar a few old shovels and a bag of grass seed. For Mr Caretaker, however, it's more about the hassle of having to fix the door than worrying about stolen goods – in essence, 'there's nothing worth nicking'.
It's been a week since our ride to the churchyard so the details are sketchy other than the obvious: we eventually drank our tea, ate our biscuits and headed home.
This week (today in other words) I awoke around 5am and listened to the wind and the rain of what I later discovered was Storm Brian. It sounded bad and I fully expected to abort, but when I looked out at around 0600hrs the rain had stopped the roads had dried and everything seemed relatively still. It was a little blustery now and then, but I headed towards the green where I met Andy.
Prior to setting off I bought some milk from the Kwik Save and then we headed to the Tatsfield Bus Stop the slow way, knowing full well that the churchyard benches would be wet through.
We chatted about electric bikes – and both decided that electric bikes = cheating. Andy discussed how last week he rode along Pilgrims Lane, took a left turn and found himself in Cudham after managing to ride up some pretty steep hills. We moaned about social media (we always moan about social media, despite the fact that we both use it extensively, but both admit it has done us no favours). And we talked about 'the left' and the vocal minority and Donald Trump and God knows what else.
At one point along Beddlestead Lane it rained, but not heavily, and we both said that had we been at home we would have aborted. The weather was fine: there were dramatic skies, there was wind, there were leaves on the ground, like soggy cornflakes, and there was sunshine. Perfect weather really.
Just past 0905hrs and we headed home along Clarks Lane and then the 269. There were a few cyclists around, but not many. The Lycra Monkeys were staying home with their turbo trainers. When we reached the green we vowed to meet again tomorrow at the usual time for another ride, probably to the same place – the dry and covered Tatsfield Bus Stop.
