I woke up on Monday morning around 0320hrs and couldn't get back to sleep. It was starting to get light outside and I was scheduled to go on a ride later, but couldn't contemplate it as I fidgeted around in bed trying to sleep. At around 0400hrs I decided that an abort text would be the best policy. Annoying as I'm guessing the weather will be fine and sure enough it is. After aborting I jumped back into bed and awoke to hear that the Brexit Party had stormed ahead of everybody else in the European elections. Farage now intends to have policies (other than just Brexit) and take on the establishment at the general election (whenever that takes place).
I made porridge with blueberries, strawberries, grapes and bananas and then moved to the living room to check out the BBC website. The Brexit party's success was the lead item so I decided to visit my blog instead, and here I am.
Yesterday we rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard following the same route as Saturday - down Slines Oak Road, along Butler's Dene Road and through the golf course until we reached The Ridge where we turned left and headed towards the top of Titsey Hill. It was then a case of sailing down Clarks Lane and hanging a right close to the Park Wood Golf Club.
The Tatsfield Churchyard is a perfect place for a summer ride, the best destination, certainly first thing in the morning. We watched as a Spitfire flew past heading east, probably out of Biggin Hill airport, which is a few miles from where we were sitting, sipping tea. Andy was munching biscuits, but I've given them up, although later in the day I would eat around half a dozen ginger nuts, courtesy of a free promotion at Sainsbury's that was celebrating something. Free ginger nuts and free tea arrived at the house around lunch time and I can't resist a ginger nut (or any biscuit for that matter). But I'm trying to cut them out and largely I've succeeded. I reckon the only way to cut things out is not an outright ban, but looking at situations where they can be omitted, like on the ride. I've cut out biscuits on the ride and I don't have milk in my porridge any more, just water, although, to be fair, I only used to have half a cup of semi-skimmed milk mixed with half a cup of water, so I wasn't giving up a great deal. Still, it all counts.
The main topic of conversation was the name Peggy. One of the headstones, for a Gladys Jean Shrubb, explained how she was always known as 'Peggy' and I started to wonder what Peggy was short for. In the end I consulted Google and discovered it was a short form for Margaret, but that didn't explain why Gladys was so-called. Andy said that his dad, Sidney, was always known as Bill at work and that when Andy was born (back in the day when dads didn't feel obliged to attend the birth - my dad was at work when I was born) his real name was boomed over the tannoy and nobody knew a Sidney. "Oh, you mean Bill," somebody eventually twigged and Andy's dad was told that his wife had given birth to a son.
The plan for today (Bank Holiday Monday) was to go out later (meeting at 0800hrs instead of 0730hrs) and ride to Westerham for breakfast in the Tudor Rose, but it wasn't to be. If I ride at all today, it'll be a short one, a late short one, over to mum's, perhaps, but I might just slob around* and do nothing until next weekend when I'll be raring to go.
* I slobbed around and did nothing.
I made porridge with blueberries, strawberries, grapes and bananas and then moved to the living room to check out the BBC website. The Brexit party's success was the lead item so I decided to visit my blog instead, and here I am.
Yesterday we rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard following the same route as Saturday - down Slines Oak Road, along Butler's Dene Road and through the golf course until we reached The Ridge where we turned left and headed towards the top of Titsey Hill. It was then a case of sailing down Clarks Lane and hanging a right close to the Park Wood Golf Club.
The Tatsfield Churchyard is a perfect place for a summer ride, the best destination, certainly first thing in the morning. We watched as a Spitfire flew past heading east, probably out of Biggin Hill airport, which is a few miles from where we were sitting, sipping tea. Andy was munching biscuits, but I've given them up, although later in the day I would eat around half a dozen ginger nuts, courtesy of a free promotion at Sainsbury's that was celebrating something. Free ginger nuts and free tea arrived at the house around lunch time and I can't resist a ginger nut (or any biscuit for that matter). But I'm trying to cut them out and largely I've succeeded. I reckon the only way to cut things out is not an outright ban, but looking at situations where they can be omitted, like on the ride. I've cut out biscuits on the ride and I don't have milk in my porridge any more, just water, although, to be fair, I only used to have half a cup of semi-skimmed milk mixed with half a cup of water, so I wasn't giving up a great deal. Still, it all counts.
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| Why Peggy? |
The main topic of conversation was the name Peggy. One of the headstones, for a Gladys Jean Shrubb, explained how she was always known as 'Peggy' and I started to wonder what Peggy was short for. In the end I consulted Google and discovered it was a short form for Margaret, but that didn't explain why Gladys was so-called. Andy said that his dad, Sidney, was always known as Bill at work and that when Andy was born (back in the day when dads didn't feel obliged to attend the birth - my dad was at work when I was born) his real name was boomed over the tannoy and nobody knew a Sidney. "Oh, you mean Bill," somebody eventually twigged and Andy's dad was told that his wife had given birth to a son.
The plan for today (Bank Holiday Monday) was to go out later (meeting at 0800hrs instead of 0730hrs) and ride to Westerham for breakfast in the Tudor Rose, but it wasn't to be. If I ride at all today, it'll be a short one, a late short one, over to mum's, perhaps, but I might just slob around* and do nothing until next weekend when I'll be raring to go.
* I slobbed around and did nothing.
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