Saturday 13 April: This is a deceptive time of year. In fact, what time of year isn't deceptive? Well, I suppose, June, July and possibly August, but in every other month, there's no excuse for being 'caught out' in the rain. Prepare for the worst of anything and you might be pleasantly surprised. On some days last week, some might have argued that the weather was too hot to wear a certain type of coat, that it was getting close to the time when we won't need such heavy coats. Fair enough, it is 'getting close', but we're not there yet so beware.
Why was I surprised to note that it was just 1 degree this morning when I was preparing to ride to Warlingham to meet Andy? It's April! It snowed in April in 2008 and Andy and I were caught out in it. Clearly, we didn't expect snow otherwise we wouldn't have been so surprised. I remember how we loved it for the first five minutes, but then, after a while, we began to feel cold and shivery and wished we were at home in the warm instead.
A little exposure to a bit of sunshine at the beginning of the year and we all start thinking it's mid-summer. It's not, it's April, we haven't had Easter yet! And there was me this morning, surprised and, I must add, a little indignant when my iphone calmly informed me that it was just 1 degree outside. I peered out of the window and noticed frosted windscreens and sparkling frost, but there were blue skies so why was it just 1 degree?
But I wasn't treading anywhere near 'abort' territory; it would have to be raining for that, I thought, as I pedalled towards Church Way. We decided upon the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Andy, I noticed, seemed a little subdued and in his own world. Earlier, he'd had a flat tyre and he suspected a puncture. As we wound our way around country lanes close to St. Leonard's church, he stopped to check it, but all seemed fine, although he knew, deep down, that it wasn't alright. He stopped again on Beddlestead Lane, having raced ahead of me; in fact, he stayed ahead of me for most of the ride, which was half to do with me being stuck in the middle cog at the front. I'm sure there's a more economical way of writing 'in the middle cog at the front' but right now, I can't think of it.
I managed to change up and raced along the road to catch up with Andy who was still having issues with his front tyre as he approached the bus stop. He got to work fixing the puncture and admitted he was tired, very tired. But after a couple of cups of tea and his Belvita biscuits, he felt a little better. I was making a lot of mess today. When it came to packing up, I emptied my cup on the concrete floor of the bus stop. Normally I drink all the tea first, but not today and things looked a little untidy as a result.
Eventually, we moved off. Andy said goodbye at The Ridge and I carried on along the 269, risking the 269, but sticking (foolishly, perhaps) to the off-road path. The risk is getting a puncture and while it's certainly possible not to get one, I noticed a wobble as I approached the green. The front tyre went flat in seconds, which might have meant that I rolled over a nasty thorn in the road, although it's also possible that one attached itself to my tyre on the off-road path and decided to bide its time before penetration. Either way, I had a puncture and it was going to be one of those bad ones.
I got to work. First I turned the bike upside down, then I released the front wheel and then I set about getting the inner tube out. All pretty straightforward. But the thorn was enormous and very sharp, as I discovered when I ran my hand along the inner surface of the tyre. It was impossible to tweezer it out so I snapped it and tried to render the remaining piece of thorn harmless by blunting it with the aforementioned tweezers. It wasn't looking good. Add to this the fact that the wheel was playing up too: a small spring had fallen out and I was having difficulty getting it back on the front forks. I couldn't figure out what was wrong and in the end, I figured the best thing to do was put everything back together again, unfixed, and walk the bike home. Four miles. In all honesty, it didn't bother me. I'm a walker, I could handle it.
Having reached the green around 0940hrs, I left around 1015hrs and got home at 1146hrs. To be honest, I can't remember what time I left or how long I faffed around on the green trying to fix the puncture. The whole episode stressed me out a fair bit, and worst of all, the problem wasn't fixed. It would bug me all afternoon until, with the sun now shining, at around 1600hrs, I got to grips with it.
There were, in fact, two punctures, but now they're both fixed. I reckon I could have a flat tyre in the morning and if I do I'm going to Cycle King because it might well be that my attempt and blunting the thorn stuck in the tyre was unsuccessful. I didn't know there was a second puncture at first. I thought that the thorn, stuck in the tyre, was causing the original puncture to open up again, but no, there was another hole in the inner tube and no evidence left on the tyre to suggest it was another thorn. Of course, it could have been the same thorn, the original needle sharp bastard that punctured the inner tube just yards from the green, but I won't find that out until the morning.
All very annoying. And what an awful day! The weather was bad. My ride along the 269 was piercing cold and there were hailstones, on and off, throughout the ride. Just prior to that puncture, I was looking forward to getting home and out of the cold, but the puncture put paid to my cosy plans and set me up for the rest of the day. Thinking back to the way Andy seemed to be feeling earlier, I was now feeling the same. Here's to a ride tomorrow.
Sunday 14th April: As we passed St. Leonard's Church, the bells rang out. It was 0800hrs. The last chime coincided with the start of a humungous hailstorm that got worse and worse as we wound our way around the country lanes leading to Hesiers Hill and, of course, Beddlestead Lane. The hailstones were small and snow-like and the landscape around us, combined with the cold air, made everything seem very wintry.
When we reached the bus top, the temperature was minus 1 degree. That's MINUS one degree as I stood in the oilseed rape field behind the bus stop taking stock of my surroundings and answering the call of nature.
We drank tea. Andy munched his Belvitas and soon, things brightened up but didn't warm up. Andy was heading home via The Ridge and I was heading for the 269, except that this time I wouldn't be on the off-road path. The thought of another puncture like yesterday put me off, but in all honesty, I might have to consider going back 'the slow way' even if it does mean going up Hesiers Hill. The 269 is dangerous whichever you look at it, and if the off-road path means punctures, which it invariably does, then I'd better get used to the hill.
It was very cold. My face was numb and, like yesterday, I wanted to get home quickly.
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| Blossom on the tree, but it's still very cold |
Why was I surprised to note that it was just 1 degree this morning when I was preparing to ride to Warlingham to meet Andy? It's April! It snowed in April in 2008 and Andy and I were caught out in it. Clearly, we didn't expect snow otherwise we wouldn't have been so surprised. I remember how we loved it for the first five minutes, but then, after a while, we began to feel cold and shivery and wished we were at home in the warm instead.
A little exposure to a bit of sunshine at the beginning of the year and we all start thinking it's mid-summer. It's not, it's April, we haven't had Easter yet! And there was me this morning, surprised and, I must add, a little indignant when my iphone calmly informed me that it was just 1 degree outside. I peered out of the window and noticed frosted windscreens and sparkling frost, but there were blue skies so why was it just 1 degree?
But I wasn't treading anywhere near 'abort' territory; it would have to be raining for that, I thought, as I pedalled towards Church Way. We decided upon the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Andy, I noticed, seemed a little subdued and in his own world. Earlier, he'd had a flat tyre and he suspected a puncture. As we wound our way around country lanes close to St. Leonard's church, he stopped to check it, but all seemed fine, although he knew, deep down, that it wasn't alright. He stopped again on Beddlestead Lane, having raced ahead of me; in fact, he stayed ahead of me for most of the ride, which was half to do with me being stuck in the middle cog at the front. I'm sure there's a more economical way of writing 'in the middle cog at the front' but right now, I can't think of it.
I managed to change up and raced along the road to catch up with Andy who was still having issues with his front tyre as he approached the bus stop. He got to work fixing the puncture and admitted he was tired, very tired. But after a couple of cups of tea and his Belvita biscuits, he felt a little better. I was making a lot of mess today. When it came to packing up, I emptied my cup on the concrete floor of the bus stop. Normally I drink all the tea first, but not today and things looked a little untidy as a result.
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| Making a mess on Warlingham Green around 0945hrs, Saturday 13 April |
I got to work. First I turned the bike upside down, then I released the front wheel and then I set about getting the inner tube out. All pretty straightforward. But the thorn was enormous and very sharp, as I discovered when I ran my hand along the inner surface of the tyre. It was impossible to tweezer it out so I snapped it and tried to render the remaining piece of thorn harmless by blunting it with the aforementioned tweezers. It wasn't looking good. Add to this the fact that the wheel was playing up too: a small spring had fallen out and I was having difficulty getting it back on the front forks. I couldn't figure out what was wrong and in the end, I figured the best thing to do was put everything back together again, unfixed, and walk the bike home. Four miles. In all honesty, it didn't bother me. I'm a walker, I could handle it.
Having reached the green around 0940hrs, I left around 1015hrs and got home at 1146hrs. To be honest, I can't remember what time I left or how long I faffed around on the green trying to fix the puncture. The whole episode stressed me out a fair bit, and worst of all, the problem wasn't fixed. It would bug me all afternoon until, with the sun now shining, at around 1600hrs, I got to grips with it.
There were, in fact, two punctures, but now they're both fixed. I reckon I could have a flat tyre in the morning and if I do I'm going to Cycle King because it might well be that my attempt and blunting the thorn stuck in the tyre was unsuccessful. I didn't know there was a second puncture at first. I thought that the thorn, stuck in the tyre, was causing the original puncture to open up again, but no, there was another hole in the inner tube and no evidence left on the tyre to suggest it was another thorn. Of course, it could have been the same thorn, the original needle sharp bastard that punctured the inner tube just yards from the green, but I won't find that out until the morning.
All very annoying. And what an awful day! The weather was bad. My ride along the 269 was piercing cold and there were hailstones, on and off, throughout the ride. Just prior to that puncture, I was looking forward to getting home and out of the cold, but the puncture put paid to my cosy plans and set me up for the rest of the day. Thinking back to the way Andy seemed to be feeling earlier, I was now feeling the same. Here's to a ride tomorrow.
Sunday 14th April: As we passed St. Leonard's Church, the bells rang out. It was 0800hrs. The last chime coincided with the start of a humungous hailstorm that got worse and worse as we wound our way around the country lanes leading to Hesiers Hill and, of course, Beddlestead Lane. The hailstones were small and snow-like and the landscape around us, combined with the cold air, made everything seem very wintry.
When we reached the bus top, the temperature was minus 1 degree. That's MINUS one degree as I stood in the oilseed rape field behind the bus stop taking stock of my surroundings and answering the call of nature.
We drank tea. Andy munched his Belvitas and soon, things brightened up but didn't warm up. Andy was heading home via The Ridge and I was heading for the 269, except that this time I wouldn't be on the off-road path. The thought of another puncture like yesterday put me off, but in all honesty, I might have to consider going back 'the slow way' even if it does mean going up Hesiers Hill. The 269 is dangerous whichever you look at it, and if the off-road path means punctures, which it invariably does, then I'd better get used to the hill.
It was very cold. My face was numb and, like yesterday, I wanted to get home quickly.
