Saturday morning: To Westerham – 22 miles

I have a new iphone and with a new iphone comes new apps, notably a health app, which monitors my sleep, offers tips on 'mindfulness' and tells me how many kilometres I've walked and how many steps I've taken. Except that when I jump on a bike, as I did yesterday morning, it gets confused and still thinks I'm walking, so I manually input distance information, which then shows up on a graph. All very technical, as my dad would have said.

Heading towards Botley Hill on the 269, Saturday 27th January 2018...

Yesterday morning I was awoken by the sound of birdsong. It was as if I was sleeping in an aviary. It was the health app doing its thing and waking me up calmly, rather than the sudden imposition of the daily news, courtesy of Radio Four, although, once I'd switched it off I jumped back into bed and listened to the news headlines, which I can't remember. This morning there was news of the tragic case of three teenagers killed by a car that came off the road at a bus stop. The driver was arrested, but the passenger ran off. No doubt he'll be found.

Saturday's ride was a trip to Westerham in Kent, a 22-mile round trip. The weather was perfect, not as cold as it has been, but cold enough to make wearing a balaclava cosy and warm.

The mornings are getting lighter. Only a fortnight ago my bike lights went on at 0700hrs – or thereabouts – and were switched off when we reached the bus stop about 40 minutes later. Yesterday they were switched off at the green before we even set off. It won't be long before summer comes, I thought, remembering Thin Lizzy.

We rode along the 269 and at one point the road opens out to fields on either side and that's when I always feel good, especially if the weather is fine, like it was yesterday. There was sunshine for a start and clearish skies. It was one of those mornings when the trees were silhouetted like in a painting and there was a sense of water colours.

The ride down was uneventful as both bikes performed well, although I think my chain needs oiling. We sailed past the bus stop and down the hill, under the M25 and into Westerham. Our old stop point has been turned into a memorial garden, for what or who I don't know, although I guess it could be for the person who died a couple of years ago when a car drove into a Costa Coffee outlet on the green. I don't know, but we sat there, like we used to in the early days and while we couldn't sit down because the benches were soaked through with dewy dampness, we stood there drinking tea and munching biscuits until it was time to head home.

The worst thing about riding to Westerham is the long and slow hill on the return ride; it's unrelenting from the word go, but the key is not to think too deeply about it and soon you'll find yourself approaching Botley Hill and the downhill ride towards Warlingham and then home. We parted at the green as usual, promising to be back in the morning.

Westerham's Memorial Gardens next to the Co-op...

It's Sunday morning now. 0655hrs to be precise. I'm listening to classical piano music when I should be getting up and making the tea for today's ride. My problem is I make myself too cosy.

The sign has been fixed.

• Sunday morning we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (16 miles) the fast way and while we were there we spent a lot of time wondering why Southern Rail train drivers earn so much money: £38k for two years while training and then £68k/yr thereafter as a qualified driver, with the possibility to earn up to £75k with overtime. That's more than nurses and GPs, and some airline pilots don't earn as much as that. It all makes me wonder why it is that we're getting driverless cars before driverless trains. Alright, I know there's the Docklands Light Railway, but surely driverless trains are safer than driverless cars. And why should Southern drivers get paid so much, they're always on strike.