Strange dreams...

People say you dream just before you wake up, but it always seems as if the dream has been going on throughout the night. I would say we'll never know, but we do because the boffins in white coats have been conducting tests.

Anyway, last night (or first thing this morning before I woke up) I had a strange dream and as with all strange dreams (well, not all of them) I remember it. Or bits of it. I'm sure there was more, but all I can remember are two elements of it. First was a hotel room bed, white sheets. In fact it was, I think, two hotel room beds pushed together: a double and a single. For some reason there were room keys relating not to the room, but the beds – or rather the spaces the beds made up – were numbered, but not visibly, there weren't any numbers on the beds. I had a key for the single bed – or perhaps it wasn't a single bed, it might have been one big bed that could accommodate three people. I had key 102. Then, the other two bed spaces required keys 111 and 112. That was one element of the dream. I vaguely recall a very brief outdoor scene, possibly outside the hotel, the grounds. An overcast day, very dark, but daylight. Lawns and damp, mossy concrete.

The second part of the dream was even stranger. Again, a bed, this time a double, and, as with the beds pushed together, white sheets. But next to the bed, right next to bed's left hand side (if you were standing at the foot of the bed) there were two white Formica cubicles, the sort of thing you might find in an office bathroom. The cubicles were worryingly narrow, one more so than the other. Potential occupants would need to enter sideways and if you were really fat you'd stand no chance. Inside the narrowest cubicle furthest away from the bed was a woman with a baby, this much I knew, but she wasn't happy and I was concerned about her. At times, the silence from the cubicle worried me.

To the cottage!

I went to bed late on Friday night. God knows why. I was just sitting there, nodding off, watching the television. I should have hit the sack earlier, but sometimes I don't, I drag things out and soon the clock announces midnight and I feel I ought to crawl upstairs to bed having checked all the doors are locked and, if necessary, putting the dishwasher on (that way I know I'll have an easy time of it in the morning and I won't have to wash anything up). There's nothing worse than coming downstairs to dirty plates and pots and pans.

Outside the cottage, Sunday 2nd September 2019. Pic by Andy Smith

A late night means a late start and I woke up at 0730hrs thinking about calling Bon and meeting at Woodmansterne Green, but I was still tired and the very thought of riding the bike made me shudder. I kept imagining bits of the route and thinking how awful it would be struggling all the way to Woodmansterne and then having to come back.

As always, of course, my decision not to go turns to one of regret as the sun starts to shine and I slowly emerge from my sleepiness, but invariably it's too late to go, the moment has been lost and I have to resign myself to simply not cycling, while ensuring in my own head that I do go the following day – Sunday.

Andy had a late night on Saturday and sent through a text saying meet at 0800hrs, half an hour later than usual. I agree, but on the proviso that it's a short one. I suggest the 'cottage', a direct ride there and back, and Andy agrees. The following morning we met at the green and headed off along the Limpsfield Road towards the 269, although, technically speaking, the Limpsfield Road is the 269.

Room with a view: looking out from 'the cottage'...

It's a fairly short ride to the cottage: we ride halfway along the 269 and then go off-road along a gravel track flanked on either side by fields. We turn left and have a short but exhilarating ride downhill and then left towards the wooden shack we call the cottage. Once there we unload our rucksacks. Andy brings out the BelVita biscuits and I plonk a heavy Stanley flask, milk and teabags on the wooden table.

Stunning woodland views from 'the cottage'...

We sat there for around half an hour, probably a bit longer, but around 0900hrs we're ready to leave and the initial bit of the return ride is pretty exhausting. It's uphill on gravel and requires the lowest possible gears, although it's advisable not to stand up on the pedals (as I did) and risk rear wheel spin. Neither of us dismounted, which was good, and soon we found ourselves back on the 269 and ready for the ride to Warlingham Green. We got back there just before 0930hrs, said goodbye until next week and went our separate ways. I got home around 0945hrs and later headed out to towards Petworth in West Sussex, but not on the bike.

Next week we really must ride on both days. Last week (the bank holiday weekend) I managed two rides (to Woodmansterne and then the very long way to Tatsfield Village). Andy didn't ride on the Saturday, but rode with me on Sunday and probably went out alone on the Monday. This week we both had just one ride, so next week we're thinking Westerham for Saturday and haven't thought any further on where we might go on Sunday.

Andy's Kona at the cottage, Sunday 2nd September 2019. Pic by Andy Smith

The great thing about our recent exploration of off-road tracks is this: they've yielded new rides. The cottage, for example, is a new ride, it can be short (like Sunday) or longer if we go via Washpond Road and the stile without purpose. It's also a great place to shelter from the rain. Sunday's ride was excellent and, all in, took just 1 hour and 45 minutes to complete. The other week we found an excellent field, a little further than the Tatsfield bus stop – again, a new route if there's been no rain as there's nowhere to sit other than on the ground.

Weatherwise, things have been good. Sunday was a beautiful day and so was Saturday and now, as I write this on Monday evening, the sun is shining outside