Lockdown, Part 33: A week without cycling...

You might recall that last week (or was it the week before?) I somehow managed to damage the joint below the big toe on my left foot. I made matters worse by riding to Westerham (21 miles) last Saturday and then, well, I saw sense and decided to have a rest from riding the bike. I hadn't done too badly. The first week back after picking up my bike from Ross Cycles I put in around 64 miles and then the following week, culminating with last Saturday's 21-miler to Westerham, I think I upped the ante to 71 miles. All was good, but the time off from riding proved to be a good idea. I haven't been on the bike for eight days and while my lack of riding nagged at me for a day or two, I put my mind to rest by reasoning that all the gardening I was doing instead was more than compensating. In truth, it wasn't, but who cares?

Chicken, leek and tarragon pie - you can't beat decent pub food!

On Thursday I went to a local garden centre and bought a few boxes of 'weed & feed' (I know how to live when I'm on holiday!). I applied it liberally to the lawn and the following morning the grass had been blackened. I'm told that a change of colour proves that it's working, doing its job, killing off the weeds and moss, so I'm not that worried about it. In fact I'm glad that my lawn is well and truly on the mend and on the way to greatness, or at least I hope so. The weeds and the moss will hopefully be replaced by vibrant and green grass and I can enjoy it for the rest of the summer.

The Rockhopper resting outside Tatsfield village...

It's not just the lawn that's been getting a bit of TLC, although the lawn is pretty important in the general scheme of things as it's huge and takes up a lot of space. I also dug up a flower bed (make that a weed bed) on the right of the lawn and replanted it with shrubs and flowers, also purchased from the aforementioned garden centre. And let's not forget the window canopy, which was in a right state and in serious need of a coat of paint. I got up on a rickety old step ladder clasping a wire brush and it wasn't long before the canopy was ready for an undercoat. It now awaits a second coat, but that can wait until next weekend.

The pond in the centre of Tatsfield village.

I suppose you could say I've been very busy, running around between garden centres and D.I.Y shops. Technically, I had taken the week off work, but in reality I only had one 'day off' - on Wednesday - when I drove into darkest Sussex for a pub lunch. Because of 'social distancing' and the virus we booked in advance and had to order our food using our mobile phones. It was easy and the food was delicious and we also paid via the phone so there was little in the way of human contact. The other good thing about it was not having to wait for the waiter to deliver the bill or worry about how much of tip we should give (we didn't give any tip, I mean why when there's no real 'service'?). Actually, the meal was good, especially the chicken and leek pie, the mash, the vegetables, the whole lot, but I don't think the phone ordering system offered the opportunity for us to tip electronically. I never carry cash so sadly there was no tip.

To complete my week of gardening I need to order a parasol and I'll do that later on line, then I can go back to work tomorrow safe in the knowledge that I've well and truly 'done my bit'.

St. Mary's church, Tatsfield

Today I initially considered riding solo to the lakes, but in all honesty, by the time I was ready to hit the air it was almost 0800hrs and I realised it would take the best part of almost three hours to complete, possibly less if I didn't stop for tea, but where's the fun in that? So I called Bon, or rather I texted him a single word question: 'cycle?'. And then I set off with my phone on 'loud' so I could hear it if he called back, but he didn't (until I was almost home) so I pressed on towards Warlingham Green and then beyond, riding the 269 to Botley Hill and then heading east on Clarks Lane. Initially I thought I'd ride into Westerham, but then I changed my mind and rode towards St Mary's church in Tatsfield, but not directly. I turned left on Approach Road and went through the village instead, getting in a bit of a pickle when I approached some temporary traffic lights (I was in the wrong gear and the lights were on a hill so I ended up walking and remounting on the other side).

Yours truly in Tatsfield

I passed the entrance to the churchyard and rode down the hill on to Clarks Lane again, turning right and heading up the hill towards Botley and the 269. Later I turned right again into Beech Farm Road and while I kind of considered hanging a left into Washpond Lane, I carried on round and eventually passed St Leonard's church on my right and then Ledgers Road on my left and then I was back at Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turned right and continued down the Limpsfield Road to home. I was pleased to note that I'd almost riden 20 miles. All I need to do now is keep that up for five days and I'll be approaching the magical 100-mile week, but let's not walk before we can run.

Lockdown, Part 32: Something Better Change.

The other day I decided to take a walk around the block, just a half-hour stroll to get some exercise having been stuck indoors all day working. As I walked, I found myself thinking back five years or so to the time when, for some reason, the joint below my big toe swelled up and I had great difficulty walking. It lasted for about two or three days, wasn't painful unless I put weight on it and that's about it. However, as I continued to walk - without pain and with no sign of the ailment I last experienced in 2015 - I said myself, something along the lines of: "I seem to have gotten rid of that big toe ailment I had all those years ago, must be cleaner living, not drinking and so forth." And with that I continued on my walk and when it was over I sat around, watched TV, all the usual stuff. The following day I had the ailment again. Now, perhaps it's coincidence, but I'm not so sure and I highly recommend people not to tempt fate because that's what I did, I'm sure. I started thinking about something and for some reason it happened. I hobbled around for the day, went to bed early and when I woke up in the morning, while the joint below the toe was still swollen, I was no longer in pain. Cue a 21-mile bike ride to Westerham during which I experienced no pain, nothing. However, as the day progressed, and I took a drive into darkest Sussex, the pain returned and I found myself limping around again. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone cycling, perhaps I aggravated it, so I resolved not to go today (Sunday). I was planning a ride to Woodmansterne Green to see Bon, sometime around 0700hrs, but in all honesty nothing had been arranged and my original plan had been to meet Andy at the Churchyard, hopefully an hour earlier than normal (at 1000hrs) although again, nothing had been arranged. So when I woke up I decided to give things a rest. Last week I'd cycled around 71 miles (my week is currently running from Sunday to Saturday) so I figured a day off might do me some good, although, even now, at 0928, I still feel like jumping on the bike and going somewhere. I'm going to resist the temptation.

War time memorial in Tatsfield Village last week on the Churchyard Chump

It's now 2019hrs, the Durrell's are on television (far too middle class for my liking) and I'm sitting looking out on the garden. There's blue skies and scattered clouds here and there, it's been a fairly pleasant day. There was a little drizzly rain this morning, but it's warm out and ideal cycling weather. I'm glad I gave it rest, though. I've been obsessing about it of late and what's the point? In fact, I'd say I'm getting irritated about a lot of things and I'm going to blame the 'lockdown'. Not, as I've said before, that I'm in any real state of lockdown. It's just the whole being at home thing, not getting much of a change of scene, although that's not true either: yesterday I drove to Petworth in West Sussex and mooched around a bit. Today I've been taking it easy, but I think it's the whole thing about working from 0800 to 1600, then going cycling (alone) then returning home, having dinner, watching The Sinner, falling asleep and then going to bed (repeat and fade). The swollen foot didn't help matters, but I've been a bit short-tempered (more so when I've missed a ride, although I did pretty well this week). I'm annoyed with the Government, annoyed with the state of popular music (just listen to Capital Radio and you'll know what I mean) and, most of all, I'm fed up with myself for all sorts of reasons. I need to achieve something, but I don't know what. I'm always reading about people doing 'great things' with their lives and I'm starting to feel a little small and insignificant in the greater scheme of things. But so what? Who isn't small and insignificant? I've been thinking back on stuff and berating myself on so many levels, but then, when I think about it, I've done alright one way or another, I've got nothing to complain about and there are plenty of reasons to utter the phrase 'and there, but for the grace of God go I'. I could do with a better night's sleep, that's for sure, perhaps a lot of this is to do with feeling weary and tired and in need of more sleep, get to bed before 2300. I don't know, but I'd better snap out of it.

On the green at Westerham on Saturday morning

On the cycling front, it's been good this week. I managed to get in four rides including yesterday's ride to Westerham, 21.05 miles. I sat on the green in the sunshine chilling before heading home up the hill. Prior to that ride I rode the Slines Oak Slogger, riding up the 269, turning right on to Slines Oak Road all the way to Woldingham and then hanging a left and heading for the golf course, bearing right on to The Ridge, riding to Botley Hill, crossing the 269 and then heading east on Clarks Lane but turning left on to Beddlestead and then tackling Hesiers Hill. In fact, that's not right. The ride before the Westerham journey was the Slines Oak Slogger, but in the other direction (coming down Hesiers and then riding up Slines Oak Road on to the 269, turning left and riding home). I did it the other way around earlier in the week, actually last Sunday if I'm not mistaken. So I rode Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. On Tuesday I rode the Churchyard Chump, a straight ride along the 269 to Tatsfield Village via the Churchyard, but circling it and riding through Tatsfield Village, emerging on Approach Road, turning right at the Bus Stop and heading home via Botley Hill, that was 17 miles. Thursday was the Slines Oak Slogger (17.5 miles) and Saturday was Westerham (21 miles). My week started last Sunday when I rode the Slogger via a steep climb up Hesiers Hill and, as I said, I repeated the ride on Thursday but in reverse. For details of all my rides, click here.

Village cricket on Wisborough Green in West Sussex on Saturday afternoon

There's two kinds of cycling as I've said before: cycling for the fun of it (which was the way Andy and I used to ride at weekends, early in the morning); and cycling to keep fit, which is what I'm doing now, riding alone, not stopping for tea and not really enjoying it. It might be another reason why things aren't right at the moment. Cycling, while fine, is a kind of necessity at present because I'm indoors all day and genuinely need the exercise. Often I have to force myself to go out because I don't particularly want to. The novelty has worn off I guess. I'm also riding in the early evening, which is problematic because we have dinner to sort out on my return and then there's nothing left but to crash in front of the television. The routine is starting to annoy me, perhaps that's it. As the Stranglers used to sing: Something Better Change.

Lockdown, Part 31: Fantasyland

I live in a fantasy world. I am always riding along in a dream, sometimes saving people from the soon-to-be burning wreckage of a private jet, other times being a rock star, admired and loved by all and sundry, and then other times living in a house on the beach, enjoying a lazy life of looking out to sea, going for long beach walks and breathing in the sea air. If it's none of the above then it's being a successful novelist, working only when I choose and living a life of solitude in a house with a huge, overgrown garden. The central thread running though these often quite vivid fantasies is financial security and not worrying or fretting about the future, and also relaxation and not having to do anything I don't want to do; it's not worrying about pensions or retirement but simply chilling, by the sea, taking each day as it comes and being at peace with the world. In a nutshell, I need a holiday.

This week, while roaming the aisles of my local supermarket, I decided to buy a copy of The Week, a weekly news magazine, and inside I found a page entitled Best Properties on the Market, a selection eight properties and only one within my grasp, a stone cottage in Inverness-shire with six bedrooms, a share in a salmon and trout river and some 89 acres of pasture and grazings. It's in the middle of nowhere and I can see myself there just doing nothing but cycling, eating and sleeping and having visitors up from the smoke to ride with me and generally chill out. Kilmonivaig Farm, that's the name of the place, and if I sold up I could afford it, but what the hell would I do stuck up in Inverness-shire as the weather closes in? How would I make money? Well, my view is never let the practicalities get in the way of a good fantasy and besides, I'm working remotely now, I could work remotely from Inverness-shire, as long as there's WiFi.

Fields at the bottom of Hesiers Hill...

If I'm honest, I'd prefer the nine-bedroomed Clarghyll Hall in Cumbria, a grade ll listed country house steeped in 500 years of history and crying out for me to be its new owner. I'd better get a lottery ticket next week because this stately pile is currently out of my reach, which is a little depressing. The Gart in Perthshire, Scotland, is also out of my reach, but it looks amazing and I can see myself there eating venison and drinking rich, red wine. Well, alright, I've given up drinking so a vanilla chai and a hot cross bun would have to suffice.

The Rockhopper at the bottom of Hesiers Hill

It's Sunday and I've been chilling this afternoon in the back garden, enjoying the sunshine. This morning I rode what I'm calling the Sline's Oak Slogger, which saw me ride all the way to Woldingham and then hang a left and head towards the golf course and, of course, Ganger's Hill, but turning left and following The Ridge all the way to Botley Hill and onwards to Beddlestead Lane. I rarely cycle from the Clarks Lane end of Beddlestead towards Hesiers Hill and for one good reason: Hesiers Hill. It's steep and not pleasant, but today I did it. Beddlestead is peaceful and quiet, once a few yards in there's perfect silence, apart from the tweeting birds and the whirr of a Lycra Monkey's wheels. There were a few of them riding up the lane and heading to Westerham, but there were many moments when I had the road to myself and could simply chill with a warm breeze on my face and the prospect of a nasty hill at the end. I took the ascent in my stride and soon I was at the top and winding my way around the country lanes, past St. Leonard's church and round towards Warlingham Sainsbury's and home.

Looking up Hesiers Hill

Yesterday I rode the Beddlestead Beach Farm Bastard, an 18-mile ride (as opposed to today's 17-miler) so I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself. Last week I rode a total of 60 miles and I'm slowly getting back into my stride after around a week off waiting for the bike to be serviced. Hopefully, this week I'll ride more, perhaps get up to 80 miles, who knows? It all depends on the weather, but everybody's saying it's going to be warm so here's to some pleasant evening rides.

The lockdown continues, or rather it doesn't. Who knows? One minute we're told not to use public transport and work from home if we can; and now we're being given money by the Government to eat out and get back to work, using the trains and buses if need be. There's a lot of mixed messages, but the general view is that things are getting back to normality (or rather the 'new normal' of social distancing and masks and booking up to visit the local boozer). Until they find a vaccine we've just got to get on with it.

The Rockhopper has been running like a dream since Ross Cycles serviced it

I think what I need is a holiday. I need to switch off completely and spend some time staring at the sea and not thinking about anything other than whatever book I'm reading and where my next meal is coming from. But I've got to stop eating for the sake of it, out of boredom more than anything else, that sneaky bowl of cornflakes, that slice of bread and peanut butter, a late-night bowl of Alpen or a Rachel's yoghurt, it's all surplus to requirements if I'm honest and it has to stop.

Lockdown, Part 30: Whatever!

The weather's been changeable. There's been rain. It's stopped me riding the bike. The frequency of my cycling has dipped from six days a week to three. Not cycling isn't good, it always makes me feel sluggish, unhappy, doomed and I get a little depressed as a result. I shouldn't be like this. The less I go the more difficult it is to motivate myself, I start to find it all too much. I find myself in the garage, looking at the bike and wondering whether it's worth unpadlocking it or simply going back in the house and forgetting about everything. It happened last week. I started imagining myself riding along Ellenbridge, heading up Church Way and then riding along the Limpsfield Road and it made me feel weary. I went back inside the house and forgot about it. It's different at the weekend. At the weekend I don't have to work so I can go cycling in the morning, meet Andy at the churchyard and if the sun is shining I feel good about the world. Last week I managed three rides (Sunday, Thursday and Friday) and to be fair, I feel good about that too. Today I started the second week of riding since the bike was returned to me - or rather since I went to the bike shop to get the Rockhopper. I've decided not to fret about riding or not riding. I'm accepting that things change. The run of good weather that motivated me to ride six days a week has gone so from now on it's the luck of the draw and also whether I'm feeling up to it. I hope that nine times out of 10 I do feel motivated to get out there, but if I don't, then so be it.

Swimming in the sea...

I think the lockdown is starting to get on people's nerves, it's getting on mine. People are looking for change and it's coming, of course it is, but it's more about what kind of change and the fact that we've all got to socially distance and people keep talking about the 'new normal', which nobody wants. We all want the old normal, although I'm thinking that I don't want the cars back on the road or the planes in the sky. I quite liked it without them, but now things are looking like the old days. When I cycle along the Limpsfield Road there's increased traffic, so while it's supposed to be 'the new normal' there's some of the old normal too. But hey, the economy has to bounce back somehow or we'll all run out of money.

What annoys me about 'the lockdown' is the way it's portrayed on the television. I keep seeing advertisements showing people 'stuck at home' tutoring their kids or exercising in the living room or singing from their balconies and I find myself thinking why are they doing that? Since lockdown I've been riding miles and miles on the bike, going out shopping, walking, you name it, there's no need to be stuck indoors and yet that's the picture the media wants to portray, that we're all at home, stuck indoors and slowing driving ourselves crazy.

Wisborough Green

I was listening to LBC on Saturday and the presenter (I can't remember his name) was asking listeners what drastic changes have they made to their lives or their way of thinking as a result of lockdown. And this is something else I find odd about the media portrayal of the situation, the assumption that the experience, for all of us, has been life-changing and that whole World War ll analogy. My problem with this is that I don't think it has been life-changing at all; we've all been stuck indoors, that's all. We haven't been at war, or under siege, there's always been food around, even if we've had to queue for it, so why should we be experiencing anything life-changing? And then I started wondering how things had changed for me. Well, I need a haircut, that's for sure, but I'm not getting uptight about it. I mean it's only been possible to have a haircut since yesterday. Up until then it's been a case of leave it alone or reach for the clippers. In all honesty, I can't be bothered, let it grow, that's what I've been thinking. Who cares if it's long? I've been eating more than normal, but all good stuff. I'm buying more food than I was pre-lockdown. I get through a family pack of Alpen in a week, I'm eating lots of fresh fruit and I've started eating bread like I used to, but I try to limit myself to just four slices per day maximum. Chocolate bars are back on the agenda. I often find myself eating a Wispa bar while waiting in the queue for the check-out. That's got to stop. And I'm staying up late watching box sets, that's new. I'm now on Season Six of the X Files, I watched the whole of Ozark, the whole of Cardinal and now I'm on to The Sinner with Bill Pullman and the jury's out on that at the moment. I've stopped watching the news. And that's because we've become a one news story nation. It was Brexit and now it's the pandemic and I've started taking a different perspective on it all. I mean, with the pandemic, what's the story? There's a virus, it's bad news for some, but not so bad for others, it's highly contagious and the Government has been bungling everything as it goes along. End of story basically. And it looks as if Brexit is going to come back. There's also the intensifying soap opera of the Epstein case, that's hotting up now that the FBI has arrested Ghislaine Maxwell, and here's hoping she's going to blow the gaff on all the establishment figures involved, especially Prince Andrew. But other than that, there's little else.  I swam in the sea, that's the big news from me of late. About a week ago I headed down to Felpham on the south coast on a very hot day and hit the beach, there was nobody there (hardly). I shared the sea with a couple of people and their kid and I went straight in, without hesitation. The sea was warm and I spent around 40 minutes in the water. The last time I swam in the sea was in 2015 in Brazil, Copacabana Bay, and the following day I went down with an upset stomach. Not nice and you can read about it here. Sea swimming again was great fun and reminded me that I'd really like to live by the sea, but I doubt I ever will.

The shops are empty...

I must point out that I know people have suffered from the lockdown. I feel sorry for anybody stuck in a flat without a balcony or a communal garden, I feel sorry for people who are getting on top of one another in a small space with no possible escape, I feel sorry for those who haven't discovered cycling or a means of escape like I have. 

What I can't get to grips with is the future and how it's all going to change or get back to normal. And by normal I don't mean the new normal, I mean the real normal, the old normal, the world we used to know. I don't want to have my haircut by somebody wearing a visor. I don't want to put my name down to go to the pub.

I suppose I wish the whole thing would stop and go back to normal. I guess everybody feels the same way.

Today I rode to the churchyard to meet Andy. We sat there in the sunshine chatting and chilling for around half an hour and then we headed home, parting company at The Ridge like in the old days. I carried on down the 269 and reached home at 1220 hrs. The weather's been great today. 

When I reached the churchyard, Andy had yet to arrive...