To Westerham!

This weekend is going to be 'touch and go' on the cycling front. In fact I was fully expecting abort texts to fly and no cycling to take place. Why? Because of the rain, that's why. My iphone has a little cloud and rain symbol for the next few days, meaning it expects the Easter holidays to be a complete wash-out.

In fact, I'm amazed that we even got a ride yesterday (Good Friday) and even more amazed that we made it all the way to Westerham and back without getting a soaking. When I peered out from behind the curtain in the morning things looked sort of okay, but there was that 'it could rain at any moment' feeling going on as I trudged downstairs to make my porridge. Every morning I make porridge with blueberries, raspberries and a sliced banana. I might have mentioned this before, it's a good way to start the day, then I sit at the table with just one light on and check out the on-line world; well, alright, I look at the BBC website, check out what the papers say and then I might look at my emails, nothing special.

As always when I'm due to go cycling I check my phone for any abort texts and normally there aren't any so it's then a case of simply getting on with things: finishing breakfast, making the tea for the ride and then heading out to brave the elements. I was running 'mildly late' as I put it on a text to Andy, but all was fine as I headed along Ellenbridge, veered left and up Elmfield, turned left on to Morley, right on to Church Way and then roared, well, alright, I didn't roar, I trundled, along the Limpsfield Road towards the green.

As you can see I used a filter on this shot...

We decided to head for Westerham, mainly because we hadn't been on the bikes for three weeks – rain could have made it four weeks. On the way the ride was punctuated by the sound of gunshot from across the fields – pheasant shooting, I guessed, or possibly early morning clay pigeon shooting. I had a couple of close calls with cars driving too close so I used the off-road path for the last few yards of the 269. The ride was fine, albeit a little grey, but there was no rain and we decided to visit the Tudor Rose on our arrival, except that it was closed so we paid a visit to Deli Di Luca, a pleasant little caff, where Andy bought the tea and almond croissants, very nice. We sat there for around 30 minutes and then headed out of Westerham and up the hill towards Botley. It's always, without fail, a tedious ride to the top of the hill, but once we reach the 269 it's a straight road back to the green.

Once home the rain started and it didn't stop. It was one of those days: rain, rain and more rain. Nothing much was done.

Right now it's Saturday morning and Andy and I had both decided not to go cycling today, which is a shame because the weather looks good. Andy said yesterday that he wouldn't be going so I invited my mum round for lunch – it means driving over to Sutton and back twice plus getting things organised – so going for a ride is not a good idea. However, it's a clear case of Sod's Law: we don't go cycling and the weather turns out fine. You'll probably find that the rest of the Easter weekend is a wash-out, but the key thing is we got out to Westerham yesterday (a 22-mile round trip).

Here's hoping we'll get out tomorrow and Monday.

I really must learn to shut my cakehole!

I really must, this is serious. I'm eating too much cake. Can't get enough of it! But what about my biscuit hole? That too! (They're one and the same). I don't know what it is, but cake and biscuits are fantastic. I love them! But you can get too much of a good thing and in my world that's an occupational hazard.

A few years back I embarked upon a diet. I limited myself to just three slices of bread per day (which was a little better than my (easily) one dozen slices. Put it this way, I'd wake up in the morning and have between two and four slices of bread, normally with marmalade (something I've given up completely, along with any 'spreads', so jam, honey, it's all been off the agenda for years now). Also off the agenda, 99.9% of the time are chocolate bars – wrapped chocolate like Twix, Mars bars and so forth. There was a time, about five years ago, when I lapsed for a while and enjoyed a Mars bar once a day, but that was short-lived.

I could have done without the dessert...

I think it's foodstuffs (better make that food groups) with the letter B, so bread, buns, biscuits and now, of course, beer, since I've stopped drinking (coming up for five months on 28 March – actually, that's today!).

But of late I've lapsed on the letter B foods. I simply can't resist a biscuit or two during the day and I really wish this wasn't the case. I've also lapsed on cake. Whenever I visit a National Trust property, which is roughly once a week (forget the culture, I go purely for the cake and the gift shop) I enjoy a slice of cake. And then there's Westerham's Tudor Rose café, where I've been a regular fixture over the past few weeks, and guess what? There's a great selection of cakes. Only last Sunday I enjoyed a chunk (make that a brick) of bread pudding and the week before there was a rather nice Bakewell tart with icing and a large cherry and just a day before that a lemon sponge with lemon curd sandwiched between the two sponges and lemon icing on top – wonderful, yes, but good for me? Well, spiritually, perhaps, but I've noticed my trousers are a little tighter, which means they've got to stop.

I've forgotten to mention my weekly trips to mum's. My mum makes exceedingly good cakes and I make a point of having two slices (make that chunks) with my tea and I have been known to raid the biscuit tin too – it's all got to stop. Perhaps I'll stop everything but my weekly ration of mum's cake. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

Now that the severe weather has lifted (that said, it's raining today and for the foreseeable future no doubt – it's the Easter bank holiday this coming weekend) I'm getting out at lunch times for some long walks and I've even walked to Merstham railway station some evenings. That's the good news. I'm also guaranteeing myself 40 minutes of additional walking everyday simply by taking the train from a railway station 20 minutes' walk away (as opposed to just 10).

Breakfast and dinner are fine, it's just the bit in between that is causing problems. While my lunch, give or take, is fine (normally baked potatoes, heatlhy stuff, or a sandwich from M&S) it's the snacking in between that's an issue. God forbid if anybody has a birthday in the office as the rule is they have to bring in cakes and stuff and most people push the boat out and display an array of goodies, normally from Sainsbury's, including mini millionaire's shortbreads, doughnuts (I'd only eat the custard ones, but they never get them) and other snacks that carry labelling saying 'not good for you'.

Fortunately the summer is coming, and that can mean warm weather. Warm weather suppresses the appetite a little and with sunshine comes exercise, so the future is looking good, but I must resist foods beginning with the letter B and as I said earlier, there's loads of them, although a lot of them good be grouped under the title 'Baked Goods'.

My rule on chocolate has been broken a couple of times this week as I've bought, as part of my lunch from M&S after a walk, is a small bar of chocolate (containing tumeric – so I think it's healthy). The bar boasts just 144 calories (not bad) so, well, no more, let's say that, no more.

Anyway, that's just to let you all know where I am on the dieting front. I'm not doing too bad in the scheme of things, but I think my report card would read 'could do better'.

Long time no riding

It's not good, but we've not been out for three weeks. Alright, if I go today, which I plan to do, then it's only been two weeks out of the saddle, but I didn't go yesterday, Andy isn't going today, so we're on dodgy ground.

My plan today is to ride over to Kenley, not a million miles away, only 12 there and back (give or take) but there's a couple of decent hills (Whyteleafe Hill on the outward journey and Tithepit Shaw Lane on the way back) so it's a good enough work-out.

Not much going on cycling wise, but loads of crap happening in the world at large. Let's start with Russia and its recent, alleged nerve gas attack in Salisbury: well, what to say? I can't believe the idiots in the British Government and, as you know, the biggest idiot of all is Boris Johnson, followed by that twat of a defence secretary Williamson. I mean, how childish to say that the Russians should shut up and go away. Sounds like a little kid in the playground. When are we going to get some proper politicians?

"Go away and shut up!" This man is in charge of our defence!

Did the Russians do it? We don't know is the truth, but Buffoon and Williamson prefer to work on the guilty until proven innocent model of law and order; they really are a disgrace.

Russia has dominated the headlines over the past fortnight, diplomats have been expelled and it's all very boring. Three people were involved in the nerve gas attack: two Russians (one a spy) and a British policeman who was released from hospital last week. The two Russians are not out of the woods yet, it is claimed.

What else? There's always Brexit so we'll leave that alone (it's SO boring!). Oh, I know, a Quantas jet has gone into the record books for flying non-stop from Perth to London in just 17 hours. On the flip side, two pilots of an easyJet flight have been suspended for fucking around on social media while flying a plane full of passengers – what a couple of nobcheeses.

The other big scandal involves Facebook and a company called Cambridge Analytica. In a nutshell somebody developed an app for the social networking giant and it harvested the data of something like 50 million Facebook users. It is alleged that the data might have been used to influence the result of the US presidential elections. Zuckerberg might appear in front of a Parliamentary select committee in the UK and Facebook shares have dipped dramatically.

I'll report back later on how the ride went.

More snow means no cycling...

The roads were covered in snow this morning, always a bad sign, but Andy and I had already aborted today's ride. Yesterday was characterised by watching videos of The Fall performing Theme for Sparta FC and interviews with people like Stewart Lee (about The Fall). I ended up watching This is Your Life: John Peel, on which Mark E Smith made an appearance, not live in the studio (he was in Manchester performing). Alright, I'll admit it, I'm kind of obsessed with The Fall, but that's only because they were so good. Like a lot of bands, however, I was never 'in to them' at the time, although that's a weird thing to say as The Fall, unlike, say, The Smiths, have been around for the past 40 years. I did buy Levitate, a great album, especially the track I'm a Mummy.

But enough of The Fall, although it looks as if I'll be crawling around the internet later on the look-out for any interviews I haven't read before (a task and a half if you ask me).

Our curtains are still drawn, Andrew Marr's on the television, everybody's talking about the Russians and we're all experiencing Russian weather.

There's not much else to say, there never is when there's not much else to do other than watch TV, read the newspapers and generally chill out.

Planned ride to mum's aborted because of snow...

I was planning to meet Bon on Woodmansterne Green this morning, but when I looked out I could see the snow was coming. It started quietly, invisibly almost, but it was there, and soon I received a text from Bon suggesting we abort. We did. And now the snow is really coming down out there, the cars and slowly being covered, the lawns front and back are now white and it looks like a day of keeping warm, watching more television that I'm used to and, well, eating.

The weather forecasters are saying the snow is going to settle, meaning a ride tomorrow will be out of the question, but never say never.

Two weeks without a ride can't be good, but I might get out for a walk if the snow stops falling, although it looks as if it's going to snow all day.

The shot on the right is of my back garden. As you can see the snow is sticking around on the lawn, but it's not on the roads, which is good news. However, I reckon if the snow continues all day (as forecasted) then it might well cover the roads by tomorrow morning.

My Specialized Rockhopper is keeping warm in the garage and will probably remain there all weekend, as it did last weekend. But next week? Let's hope we all get on our bikes.

In Bilbao...

1910hrs: The weather has improved considerably, there is a weak sun, but it's there, and I can see blue skies as I sit here in Starbucks having enjoyed a mint tea and a cinnamon Danish. The latter are very good as they're much thicker than the conventional varieties found in most bakeries. There's reggae playing, but I'd rather be listening to Theme for Sparta FC by The Fall because it's absolutely brilliant. Mind you, I'd better not drink any more tea otherwise I might become 'totally wired' to borrow from Mark E Smith's track of the same name.

This sums up my state of mind I'm afraid...

While there is sunshine and bluish skies, there's a wind blowing. The conifers are swaying a little bit, but it's nice to see the mountains silhouetted against the grey-blue skies.

I better not get too carried away with the old blogging or I'll miss my flight, but in all honesty I've run out of things to say and just want to be at home, although there's still a long way to go, even when I land in Stansted: two train journeys and a run on the London Underground, plus the possibility of another taxi. How awful it all is, seriously. I really don't need it if I'm honest. What had been a chilled time, give or take the work, which was full on, but worth it, the trip has been a good one, but it was ruined at the very last minute.

I'll sign off now as even iPhoto doesn't work so you'll have to make do with the shot on the right, a kind of representation of the state of my mind and the capacity of my brain.

In Avilés, Day Two and Day Three...

Well, it's technically day three as I flew in on Sunday evening, but who's counting? I flew easyJet and they have weird flight times: like they don't fly back until some ungodly hour tomorrow night and arrive in Stansted gone 11pm [or do they?*]. Something mad like that. Anyway, here I am, sitting in front of the flat screen television at the desk underneath it, the bed behind me, coffee machine to the left and nothing much to the right of me. Yes, I'm in Room 209 of the NH Palacio Hotel, Avilés.

Room 209, NH Palacio Hotel, Avilés

Yesterday was a long day, but I got a good night's sleep and went down for breakfast around 0800hrs, probably just a bit before. I travelled down in the elevator, two floors, and then bowled into the room where all the breakfast items were laid out before me: pastries, fresh fruit, yoghurt, bread, cereal, cheese, fruit juices, tea, coffee, the usual stuff, but today the coffee machines (both of them) had ceased to work so I couldn't enjoy this weird fruity tea, the one I had yesterday morning – not the same teabag, you understand, but the same variety. Anyway, it's still in my pocket now, as I thought I'd have it later in the room. The teabag in my pocket is wrapped and dry, not wet, just in case you thought I'd do such a thing.

So I'm in my room, I've got about three minutes before I'm due to head downstairs for a morning of work and then, after lunch, I'm free to do my own thing. I'll take a wander around and report back later.

Later on...
After lunch in Gijon (pronounced 'hee-hon') I decided to check out Avilés and realised pretty quickly that it's a small place and easily covered by a 90-minute walk. Now, I ought to point out that I'm referring only to the pedestrianised roads that spider out from the NH Palacio hotel and I say this because once I reached the end of one of these roads, the rest was queuing traffic and the occasional lorry, which wasn't quite as appealing as the quaint streets, free from vehicular congestion. I rarely retraced my steps, but managed to walk around the perimeter of the area until I found a road free of cars that would return me to the magic of this small city. Or is it a town? I'll have to ask somebody. I think it's a city, one of three in the area, the others being Oviedo, further inland, and Gijon**

The view from room 209, NH Palacio, Avilés

As I mentioned yesterday, this region of Spain (Asturias) is known as 'green Spain', the climate is very similar to the UK, more's the pity, although it's slightly warmer at present. The sea temperature in the summer appears to be similar to 'Great' Britain too, and while I've been here in Avilés there have been light showers, cloud and occasional sunshine, like yesterday (Tuesday 13th March) from around 1630hrs when I stopped for a small black tea sitting outside a café facing the main square. I sat there reading Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle and then headed back to the hotel to carry on watching Mark E Smith interviews, documentaries about the band and interviews with a former band member who has recently published a book about their time in The Fall.*** I tend to agree with the media about MES: he ploughed his own furrow, lived his life to his rules and was, quite simply a genius. He managed to run The Fall for over 40 years, produce about as many studio albums, one per year, and bring out many live albums and get involved in the world of ballet too. There's much to say about the man, but for now, considering he died, aged 60, at the end of January, I'll say Rest in Peace.

And while we're talking about great men who have passed away, let's not forget Ken Dodd, Professor Stephen Hawking and Jim Bowen, host of the 80's darts gameshow Bullseye. All of these are recent news since I've been here in (ahem) 'sunny' Spain.

I moseyed on back to the hotel, stopping at gift shops en route and not buying anything purely because there wouldn't be room to take whatever I purchased on the plane. I fly back late tonight (or do I?) and I can't help but wonder why easyJet runs such a sparse schedule. Had I been able I would have flown back immediately after the meeting on Monday, but there were no flights; there was nothing yesterday either and today (Wednesday 14th March) my flight takes off for Stansted around 2230hrs (or maybe it's 1030 in the morning). This in turn means another night in a hotel in Stansted, which I could really do without; I just want to be home.

A typical Avilés street

On Tuesday night, instead of trawling the streets indecisively for somewhere to eat an evening meal, I decided to try the hotel restaurant, which had been closed on Sunday evening. It looked a bit upmarket and, dare I say, a bit poncy. There were two poncy-looking waiters and the place was virtually empty bar one table full of poncy people (English and Spanish) and a couple of solitary diners like myself trying to be inconspicuous.

I can't say I was happy with the meal. I chose what was billed as a fresh vegetable roll with spinach soup, which, when it arrived, took me by surprise as I was expecting the rolls to resemble spring rolls, like the ones you get in Chinese restaurants, but no, it was basically two 'rolls' – which looked more like alien fingers covered in a thin membrane-like material that revealed the contents of striped carrot and asparagus. I didn't like it. The main course was 'Ox beef with roast potatoes, leading me to believe I'd be getting a hearty roast dinner (why else did I choose the vegetable roll to start?). But the reality was troubling: an architecturally challenging structure of ice hockey puck proportions with what looked like Parma ham entwined on top like a bad haircut. The meat was tough and chewy and fatty – just like Parma ham – and the best part of the dish was the potato and the accompanying bread roll. Dessert was the best of the lot, simplicity always brings out the best of anything. 'Seasonal fruits' was the dish and it consisted of pineapple, banana and sliced apple. I had a bottle of mineral water on the go, much to the dismay of the waiters who knew only too well that the restaurant would only make its money on alcohol sales, but for me the bill was a paltry 22 Euros, which did the job, and I left there feeling a little disappointed, but ready to hit the sack.

The NH Palacio Hotel from the main square

The best part of the meal wasn't the meal, it was the chilled environment, which enabled me to read my book in peace and under good light. When I reached my room I continued to follow the life of Mark E Smith on YouTube and then went to bed.

Wednesday 14th March
It's now 0836 hrs and time I made my way down to breakfast. Hopefully today the coffee machines will be working, not for the coffee but for the hot water (I'll be having some kind of purifying 'Bio' tea, only because it tastes nice.

I'll write more later probably but I've got to check out later on, hopefully noon, and then it's a case of literally hanging around until about 2000hrs for Luis, the taxi driver, to take me to my hotel. In fact, I'd better check things out on that score.

But oh how wrong I was! I won't bore you with the details, but the end result of everything not being as it seemed is that I had to act fast, check out and haul my sorry arse over to Bilbao. It took two coach journeys: one to Oviedo, the other to Bilbao (roughly three and a half hours) and now here I am, sitting in Starbucks having just enjoyed a cinnamon Danish and a cup of mint tea. "Dinner" a few minutes earlier, was a ham roll and a black tea without milk. Earlier there had been stormy conditions, but right now as I look out of the window it appears to have cleared up and I can see a few bluish skies through the cotton wool clouds. I took a taxi from Bilbao bus station in the pouring rain and once through security I managed to relax a little bit. I feel fine now, but the chilled day I thought I was going to have didn't materialise.

I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes, but, like all of us, I guess, I too am not infallible, I can (and do) get things wrong, but not drastically so. I'll be back in the UK around 2230hrs and then I think I'll try and get a train home rather than stay in another hotel for the night, even if that was my original, but doomed, plan.

* They don't basically, my error.
** Gijon, pronounced 'hee-hon'.
*** The Big Midweek by Steve Hanley.

In Avilés, Asturia, Spain...

I should never have opened the chocolate-coated almonds, but I did. And I should never have opened the nuts, but I did. Fortunately, I never opened the jelly babies, but there's always tomorrow.

I'm sitting in front of a huge, flat-screen television watching, at close range, the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon on CNBC. I tried to watch BBC World, but nothing happened, and it's too late and I'm too tired to watch Bloomberg and I really ought to be getting to bed in the huge double bed behind me with its six cushions, make that 'pillows'. Good question: when does a cushion become a pillow? Infact, what's differentiates a pillow from a cushion? Is it that pillows are rectangular and cushions are square or that pillows are to rest one's head upon while cushions are merely decorative? Who said philosophy is dead?

On the tarmac at Stansted ... horrible

I'm staying, for the next three days, in the NH Collection Palacio de Avilés in Northern Spain and it's very nice, so far, although when I got here around 9pm there was no restaurant open so I wandered outside, found what I thought was a bona fide eating establishment and ordered a Caprese on ciabatta bread, except that this was some kind of tapas bar, meaning that I should have ordered more than the one postage stamp-sized piece of bread with pesto and other stuff inside. There was a side of crisps, but they didn't disguise the fact that I was the only customer with just one, miniscule burger on a square white plate; everybody else had an array of different ciabattas containing different fillings, but me, I just had the one and it looked really stupid, especially as I'd also ordered a no-alcohol beer, which dwarfed everything on the plate. Disappointed, I left and went back to the hotel where I had two more chocolate-coated almonds and then decided against a camomile tea, although I could murder a Big Mac. I'm just going to have to wait for breakfast, or I could raid the minibar and have that packet of Oreos, but no, I mustn't do that, I should go to bed, get a good night's sleep and look forward to breakfast in the morning.

I flew in here from Stansted airport – easyJet, one hour and 40 minutes. The flight was fine, but the woman sitting next to me kept being sick into a bag. It didn't smell too bad, not that I'm suggesting vomit is in any way appealing, but I could have done without it, let's be fair.

Stansted Airport is a depressing place and so is the journey there from Liverpool Street station. East London looked awful and even when the train had reached 'the sticks' – if you can call Broxbourne 'the sticks' – it was still grey and miserable. Once I'd cleared security – which involved taking off my shoes – I had a late lunch in an American diner – chicken burger with sweet potato fries followed by a 'fruit bowl' with a scoop of ice cream on the side. Thank God I never had the ice cream plonked on the top of the fruit as it would have melted and melded in with the fruit juice and ended up looking unappetising.

Inside the NH Collection Palacio de Avilés

Monday 12th March
I awoke around 0500hrs to the sound of wind and rain outside my hotel room window. Peering out I noticed the palms swaying in the breeze. I could have stayed up but I went back to bed and eventually nodded off, waking up an hour later and then resetting the alarm to wake me in 30 minutes. And now hear I am, sitting in front of the computer, writing and I have nothing much to say other than I need to be ready and out by 0830hrs. I've got an hour.

I'm in a place that is known in the UK as 'green Spain'. I've been told that it's a beautiful part of the country and worthy, perhaps, of taking a holiday here later in the year. I'll get some time to wander around and check things out, but the good thing is it's only 90 minutes away from the Blightly.

After the 'Beast' we head east – to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

No through road – Hesiers Hill

I might have mentioned what the media has been calling the 'beast from the east'. Well, after a week of biting cold weather, it's finally gone. The biting cold weather and the snow is known collectively as 'the beast from the east'. All of last week there were cold winds and a dusting of snow everywhere; in some places there was a lot of snow, but down here in Greater London, it was only a sprinkling. Every morning I walked 20 minutes to the station (and then 20 minutes back in the evening). Trains were running fine too and my life was barely disrupted. It was cold enough to wear the balaclava to work, much to the amusement of my colleagues.

Elsewhere in the country people weren't so lucky. There were pictures in the papers and on the television of drifting snow and blizzard conditions both 'up north' and down in the South West of the country, not forgetting Kent, which is always badly hit. The weather came from Siberia, so we're told, and there have been fatalities, but I can honestly say that my experience of 'the beast' has been pretty good.

By Friday evening the temperatures began to warm up a little. It's been minus one, minus two around here but today (Sunday) it's now eight degrees. We didn't go out yesterday because it was still pretty bad, both in terms of the snow and ice on the ground and the temperatures, but today it's warmed up considerably and the roads are clear – clear enough for a ride, so I met Andy at the green and off we went to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (the slow way). When we reached the top of Hesiers Hill we were greeted with piles and piles of snow. The road was thick snow and so were the embankments so we diverted and rode west along Beech Road towards the 269 and then headed south towards Botley Hill. While the road was clear, the off-road path was nothing but piled-up snow, drifted snow, you name it, there was no way that anybody could use it let alone ride on it.

Snowed up – the off-road path on the 269

The bus stop was fine, nothing to report. We sat there drinking tea and munching biscuits occasionally greeting the odd Lycra monkey that passed by. It was nice to be out and about. Most of the week it's been too cold to venture out even for a walk.

The roads were wet with melting snow and as we rode back there was a stretch of tarmac where puddles on either side of the 269 joined in the middle. Andy was ahead of me and at one point a black 4x4 roared past straight down the middle in a reckless manner. Andy narrowly escaped a soaking.

We parted at the green, but vowed to be back next week for more cycling – weather permitting. The ride along the Limpsfield Road was fine. When I reached Sanderstead Pond it was still iced over and there seagulls walking on it and a few noisy ducks on the adjacent green. I sailed down Church Way 'no hands' and was soon home.

The 269's off-road path was truly out of bounds...

Looking down Beddlestead Lane from Clarks Lane...