The plan had been to ride to Woodmansterne and see Bon, but he had a rear wheel puncture to fix and needed to take the bike to the shop for a new tyre. I thought he might have it done and dusted and ready for a ride, but when I sent him a text this morning it was not the case. So I lolled around and almost didn't go out - or rather I almost went out in the car instead. Fortunately, when I got outside the weather hit me square in the face, it was a wonderful day and to visit mum by car was sinful so I nipped back inside, grabbed the rucksack and rode off.
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| Mum in the garden, she's 90 in November |
I hung a right on to West Hill, then a left on to Essenden, a right on Mayfield, a left on to the Upper Selsdon Road and then left into Jarvis, past Martin's gaff and on towards the Brighton Road. I turned right and then first left and rode up Hayling Park Road, quite a steep hill, and when I reached the mini roundabout at the top I crossed the Pampisford Road and skirted the Purley Playing Fields, vast expanses of grass peppered here and with white goal posts. Soon I reached the A23 and turned right, but then I cut left through a kind of industrial estate, emerging on the Stafford Road, close to Ozzie's cafe. I turned left and rode through Wallington, past the bike shop, crossing the lights at the top of the high street and heading downhill towards the mini roundabout at Boundary Road. I crossed into Stanley Park Road and soon the serenity of Carshalton Beeches epitomised by the peace and quiet of Crichton Road. I was getting close to mum's world: the Village Bakery, Vinoteca Italiana and free-wheeled down Park Hill. The lights at the Windsor Castle were red, so I mounted the pavement, turned left past the pub and then rejoined the road to race towards the BP garage, Marks & Spencer's Simply Food, and a right turn into Alma Road. I like Alma Road with its speed bumps and parked cars. At the bottom end, St Philomena's Convent School and a left turn, past the infamous Dog Shit Alley, under the railway bridge and then a left turn. Almost there, I thought, seeing the maisonettes where my life had started. Mum and dad moved when I was about three years old, but my early life had been at 3a Rossdale. We didn't move far, just up the hill and that's where I found myself now, riding up towards mum's. The road looks roughly the same as it's always looked, perhaps more cars than there used to be.
Fortunately, she wasn't in the garden, although she told me she had just come in to do something, luckily for me. Tea and fruit cake were next and I cut myself an ample slice and followed mum into the garden. The weather was wonderful: blue skies, white clouds, planes circling around Heathrow, all reminding me of my childhood years, in the paddling pool when the sun dipped behind the clouds and the sound of an invisible, crying jet made everything seem temporarily depressing. But not today. Memories of dad in his yellow bush hat, blue shirt and shorts flooded back to me, when the kids were younger and we would sit at the top of the garden, tea and cake and possibly a couple of biscuits, the sun shining, dad explaining something or discussing whatever was going on at the time or talking to Max about the cricket. The garden was in full summer bloom, elderberry trees, dad's oak tree, everything was raging with life as I sat there sipping tea and contemplating another slice of cake and another cup of tea. "Don't worry, mum, I'll do it," I said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. I emerged five minutes later, carrying another another slice of cake and another cup of tea.
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| Off-road track on the ride home... |
We chatted about various things, but superficially. Family stuff. How's so and so? What's X or Y up to? Did you hear about...? That kind of thing and soon it was time to head back home. I could have repeated my outward journey, but knowing how traffic mounts up as the day progresses, I headed instead for Carshalton Beeches High Street, noticing a new Italian restaurant where once an Indian restaurant had stood. I climbed Waverley Way in a low gear and turned right when I reached the top and followed Beeches Avenue, which morphed into Woodmansterne Road and then I went off-road until I reached the Croydon Road. There were lots of joggers on the off-road path plus a few cyclists and one large, female dog walker who, in contrast to her own size, had two small dogs. At the end of the path I briefly rejoined the Croydon Road, but managed to cross it and ride off-road all the way to Foxley Lane in Purley, a once pleasant road that has since been messed with; now there are blocks of flats under construction here and there. Huge houses with huge, mossy gardens, once for sale, have been bought by developers and turned into ugly dwellings set back from the road. Not nice, but it's happening everywhere. Foxley Lane can be quite dangerous, especially where it is joined by Plough Lane. I keep my distance from parked cars and I'm always looking over my shoulder to see what's coming along behind me. Soon I'm at Cycle Republic and I join the Pampisford Road heading for Fennie's, a children's day nursery. I cross the A23. Not far to go now. I weave my way around some of Purley's backstreets until I reach the Purley Downs Road, but hang a left on to Norman Road and ride most of it no hands. The road morphs into Florence Road and then Kendall Avenue and then I'm on the 269, a road that features in most of our rides, except that I'm at the other end of it where it has a name, Sanderstead Road. It runs all the way to Edenbridge. I ride up the hill and turn left on to West Hill, a steep climb up its south face, past another block of flats under construction on the right. Soon I'm home and it's 1115hrs, time for a slice of bread and a cup of tea.
