Slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

Saturday was another wash-out. It was one of those days when it just didn't stop. There was a constant, drizzly rain from dawn until dusk and I did go outside twice with every intention of riding the bike, but it didn't happen. Why bother gettting cold and wet? Where's the fun? So I stayed at home and later drove to Westerham for lunch in the Tudor Rose. It was raining in Westerham too and I stood in the rain, answering a mechanised voice on my mobile phone as I paid for parking. It was one of those days when gazing through a rain-speckled windscreen at a Pay & Display machine seemed to sum things up rather nicely.

Andy and Matt at the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

The iphone said that Sunday would be better and it was: no rain. But it wasn't warm, just 2 degrees, balaclava weather. I rode along the quiet suburban streets, up Church Way to the Limpsfield Road and along a deserted Sanderstead High Street, not even any cars. I had a wide stretch of tarmac to myself. As I approached the green I saw Andy and he spied me too; there was no need to ride on to the green, we stopped momentarily and decided upon the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop.

The slow way might sound appealing and in parts it is, but it's ruined by Beddlestead Lane and even Andy said so as we made our way towards the junction with Clarks Lane. The worst moment is when the energy of the downhill from the top of Hesiers Hill runs out, the pedals stiffen and the thought of a constant incline for the next 20 minutes or so hits home. Andy and I talked about evolution in between making way for the odd Lycra monkey and soon we found ourselves passing the the totem pole tree and the mobile phone mast. We rolled down Clarks Lane towards the bus stop and then unloaded the tea and biscuits.

As we sat there, chatting, a Lycra monkey and his pal turned up. He wore all the gear: the clippy cloppy shoes, the Lycra, the high-viz top, he rode a brand new Boardman bike... it was Phil! It had been a very long time since we'd seen Phil and it was rare to see him out in such cold weather. He was on his way to the Tudor Rose in Westerham for breakfast. After a brief chat he continued on his merry way and we enjoyed another cup of tea before heading for home.

The 269 was cold and I was glad for that balaclava but soon we found ourselves approaching the green where we parted company. I reached home at just gone 1000hrs and while I had intended to oil the chain, I forgot. Later another drive to Westerham for yet another jacket potato and chilli followed this time by a large slice of lemon cake (on Saturday I enjoyed Bakewell tart). A trip to mum's was on the agenda, but I had to say no to cake, and Sunday evening's planned apple pie and custard was also put on hold. I must have a sugar-free week at work or I'll be doing myself no good.

The Tudor Rose, incidentally, is under new management and seems to be doing very well. It was packed on Saturday at lunch time. The photograph on the left shows the display of cakes on offer – lemon cake, Bakewell tart, coffee and walnut, bread pudding, flapjacks, scones, rock cakes, lemon drizzle cake, the list is endless. They make and get through 45 cakes per week and I can vouch for their quality. It goes without saying that they're open for breakfast, so you can bet that Andy and I will be sitting there one morning in the not too distant future eating a hearty breakfast before our return ride up the tiresome Westerham Hill – a continual climb all the way to Botley Hill.

Andy braved the weather on Saturday. This shot from
Wapses roundabout in Caterham