Lockdown, Pt.40: Winter is coming...

September is coming and so is the bad weather. Let's face it, winter approaches and with it Christmas. I'm a summer person, I like the hot weather and the very thought of dark mornings depresses me. Sometimes, like this morning, when I make my way downstairs to make breakfast I refuse to switch on the light if it's too dark in the kitchen, to do so would be an admission of defeat, an acceptance of the end of summer and the awful realisation that cold weather and rain and wind and everything I hate about the United Kingdom is on the way.

So-called 'lockdown' is leaving the building too. I'm heading back to the office on 7 September as part of Bubble One. Bubble Two is the other half of the office, so there's people I won't see for many months, possibly not until the Christmas Party (which always takes place in January and might not take place at all this time round, thanks to the virus).

Yes, lockdown is coming to a close and the signs are there for all to see. My fictional restaurant, Handel's, has shut up shop. I'm no longer in charge of the kitchen as I have been these past six months. The novelty of making evening meals has started to wane and I'd even go as far as to say I don't have the energy anymore. In days past I would return from a 20-mile ride and get on with making the dinner. There would be a lit candle on the table, knives and forks laid out and many a culinary delight on offer, but of late, the very idea of coming off the ride and getting cracking in the kitchen is not as appealing as it has been. Perhaps it's the end of the summer that's caused me to feel this way. We've had a lot of rain, which is always a bit depressing, and rain means no cycling. In fact, as I write this I can tell you that it's raining out there now, on Saturday morning. This time last week I was preparing myself for a ride to Dunton Green and some tea and cake at Bojangles. Now, I'm sitting at the dining room table, resigned to not riding anywhere until (hopefully) tomorrow, which looks like it's going to be the only sunny day we get this August bank holiday weekend. This week I've cycled something like 36 miles. Last week it was 103 miles.

The Rockhopper 10 miles out and close to the churchyard on the outward ride

Lockdown for me was characterised by eating, cooking, watching box sets and staying up too late. That, in a nutshell was the way it was. Oh, and cycling, of course. I've cycled more over the last six months than I've done in the last 10 plus years. Everything has been aided and abetted by good weather. The highlight of my lockdown week has always been the weekly shop at Waitrose when invariably I'd over spend, but it didn't matter because I wasn't spending a fortune on trains or lunches at work. We've managed to save a bit too. In the early days, back in late March, it was like being on holiday, sitting in the living room, late at night, mug of camomile tea in hand, watching Ozark or the X Files, staying up until around 2330hrs, sometimes later.

Most of my cycling, as you'll know if you've read all my Lockdown posts (all 40 of them so far) has been in the late afternoon/early evening. I've worked out new routes, which is all good, but there's also been an element of cycling becoming a necessity rather than a leisure activity, it's a necessity because of a need to maintain fitness levels. In the past there was a social element to riding the bike as Andy and I would meet at the Green and head off to the Tatsfield Bus Stop to chat about this and that while drinking tea. Now it's all about how many miles I get under my belt. I have Strava on the iphone measuring the mileage and it's all about 'getting it done' rather than enjoying the moment, except at the weekends. The Saturday morning ride has taken me back to the lakes or to Redhill or Dunton Green where I've relaxed with a cup of tea or, like last week, with a cup of tea and some cake from Bojangles, a great cafe. Andy and I didn't meet for a long time. Instead we rode alone, keeping in step with the Government's social distancing rules. But then we started to meet again, at the Churchyard and that's become a regular thing to do on a Sunday morning. It used to be an 11 o'clock meeting, but this tended to take up the whole day so now we're meeting at 0800hrs, getting back to the old routine. I'll be heading off to the churchyard tomorrow around 0700hrs, it represents the start of my cycling week and if the weather holds it'll be good.

What is there to look forward to? Well, there's the prospect of Donald Trump getting a second term. People say he's going to struggle, but I reckon he'll win because Biden just isn't the ticket in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, I don't want Trump to win, I want him to be trounced, but Sod's Law dictates that he must win, to add to everybody's misery. Another four years of Trump. Awful. What else? Oh, Brexit. Well, it's kind of obvious that we're going to get a no-deal Brexit isn't it? It's what the Tories have wanted and they've engineered it to happen and it will, in the same way that they've engineered the whole 'herd immunity' thing. Alright, they had to scare us into staying at home back in March to save lives and protect the NHS (because they hadn't adequately funded it), but as soon as the economy has shown signs of faltering, bugger the safety aspect, suddenly it's fine to get on trains and go back to the office. They want the kids back in school too, it's all designed to spread the virus again and hey, we won't have to wait too long before the second wave shuts us all down for Christmas.

It's funny how everything has become so samey. The days plod on, nobody really sees anybody else, we're all kind of confined to the house unless we're out shopping or taking a drive in the car somewhere. I know we're not confined to the house in reality, in the true sense of the word, but the house has become the main base, the hub, from where we venture out, normally just to the shops. That's why the bicycle is a such a good thing to have because it does offer that added sense of freedom. When we first locked down and people were quite literally confined to barracks, I was out on the bike riding around 100 miles per week. That was true freedom, being out there on the bike on deserted roads, stopping to chill in a field or on a village green with a mug of tea, just sitting there, sun beating down, there's nothing better.

It's 0842 and the rain has stopped, but it's grey and cloudy out there. I've texted Bon. "Cycle? Or is it likely to rain? Might get away with it." He's writing back to me, hold on... "Off to Middleton-on-Sea at 10 so can't. Tomorrow?" And now he's writing some more, hold on again... a movie. 'Tap to download'. It's of Bon swimming in the sea at Felpham. We might try and get a ride on Monday as it's a bank holiday here in the UK and we've all got a long weekend.

Apart from last Sunday's ride to the Churchyard, I went out on Wednesday on a Chump Bastard Womble (it's one of my rides, 20 miles). The photograph accompanying this post is from that ride, which was a non-stop ride that took me down to the Churchyard, through Tatsfield Village and then home. I should have gone out Thursday, but I couldn't motivate myself, which was a shame. Anyway, let's hope for better weather.

Lockdown, Pt.39: The Offing by Benjamin Myers...

I can feel it in my jaw, that's normally how it starts, and then I find myself closing my eyes tight, like a child pretending to be asleep on Christmas Eve, but there's no way of stemming the flow, turning off the tap. Even the stiffest upper lip eventually quivers and I am forced to accept the reality of my situation and work on damage limitation. It only happens this way when other people are around, but I always manage to pull something out of the hat. When I am alone (which is rare) I can throw caution to the wind, safe in the knowledge that nobody will know, and simply surrender myself to the emotion of the moment, which is often potent but short-lived. A hotel room is the best place to accept my fate in these circumstances, and there have been many wardrobes, Corby trouser presses and coffee makers that have witnessed my tears of joy in the past. Because, let's face it, we are talking about tears of joy, not sadness. Ultimately, there's nothing better than a work of art that moves its audience, be it a novel, a poem, or a piece of music - let's not ignore the potency of the middle eight, designed to assault the sensibilities of the vulnerable. Even Land of Confusion by Genesis took me by surprise this week, not to mention the Pet Shop Boys' It's a Sin - "Father, forgive me...".

And now, sitting alone in the sun lounge on a bright Tuesday evening, but nevertheless dangerously close to other human beings, the symptoms make their presence known again as I knew they would. I am on the verge of finishing The Offing by Benjamin Myers, a beautifully written novel about 16-year-old Robert Appleyard and the much older (and wiser) Dulcie Piper, both living in post-war Northern England.

I won't enlarge upon the story because that would ruin it for those of you who intend to read this wonderful, positive and happy book, but I will say that the writing is wonderful. Myers' descriptions of the English countryside and nature in the height of summer are second to none. It is a novel that will remain with me for a long time to come, and that's a quality reserved for the few.

In times of lockdown, The Offing offers an escape route back to the long and endless summers of youth.

My copy is now back on the bookshelf

Lockdown, Pt. 38: The Dunton Green Growler...

I took a ride in the wind on Friday evening, the trees were swaying back and forth and when I moved out of suburbia and into the sticks I was greeted by fragrant hedgerows and the smell of cow parsley and hawthorn bushes. Tall hedges protected me from the gusty winds while riding the country lanes, but as soon as I emerged on to the 269, having riden leisurely around Beech Farm Road, the wind hit hard. I was on my last mid-week ride and I must say that I'd had a good week of cycling. First, there was my ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard on Sunday to see Andy, that was early. I left the house around 0700hrs and reached the green around an hour later. It's a time to chill and chat and it's a most welcomed break from the monotony of everything. As I write this, it's Saturday evening and I'll be meeting Andy again tomorrow at the usual place, I can't wait.

Just one mile to go before Bojangles...

On Monday last week I pushed the boat out and rode the slow way to Westerham, a bit adventurous for a Monday night, but all-in, a 22-miler and I was pleased with that, but baffled about the distance. I was convinced riding the slow way to Westerham would pile on the miles but no, it was only half a mile longer than heading straight along the 269, but who wants to do that? Not me.

On Tuesday I created a new ride, the Washpond Weeble, not as far as a Washpond Womble, but still a reasonably respectable 12-mile hoof along Beech Farm Road and hanging a right into Washpond Lane, then right on to Ledgers Road, left on to Church Lane and all the way round towards Warlingham Sainsbury's before joining the Limpsfield Road and heading home. After that I had two days off (Wednesday and Thursday). Sometimes I just can't face it: the thought of taking the bike up Church Way makes me feel tired and in the end I don't go, but I said to myself that I must do at least a 20-miler on Friday to put on the mileage before the Saturday ride. So I combined a Churchyard Chuffer with a Beech Farm Bastard and a Washpond Womble and covered just over 20 miles, putting me in a good position to hit the 100-mile mark for the week. In the end I rode a total of 103 miles as I decided today to head for Dunton Green in northern Kent, a place I haven't cycled to since the pre-blog days if I'm not mistaken. There might have been one ride, sometime in 2010/2011 but that would have been it. I used to work in Dunton Green and the office is now a housing estate. The route to Dunton Green is roughly the same, well, it IS the same as the ride to the lakes, except that you don't turn right to ride over the motorway and into the village of Chipstead (where the lakes are located), you simply keep riding and when you reach a roundabout you turn right and follow the road into the village. Having clocked up 70 miles during the week I needed a decent 30 + miles to ensure I made the planned 100 miles. Riding to Dunton Green made it 103 miles in total for the week and yes, I'm feeling proud of myself. 103 miles! It's a lockdown first!

Bojangles, Dunton Green: great food, nice people, I will return soon

Pilgrims Lane today was amazing. Wonderful cornfields, a vineyard, it's the best road in the world on a summer's morning, hardly any cars, perfect. Soon I reached Sundridge Hill and turned right and the road became Sundridge Road and then Ovenden Road and soon I was passing the turn-off for Chipstead village on the right and Chevening Church on the left. As I said, I continued straight, followed the road into Dunton Green, a sleepy little place, and then stopped at an excellent little coffee shop called Bojangles. Like a lot of hospitality industry operators, Bojangles has been having a hard time of it, but the good news is it will soon be re-opening as a sit-down operation having been a takeaway-only for a considerable time. When I got there I ordered a New York Deli sandwich, a slice of cake and a cup of tea and then sat across the road where they've set up a few tables. It was very pleasant and I enjoyed the lot, but especially the cake. Soon, however, it was time to ride home and I reckon that psychologically the return journey is the most gruelling. I must admit that as I made my way towards Sundridge Road I was beginning to feel a little daunted by the 16 miles I needed to cover to get home. It was made a lot easier by Pilgrims Lane being a pleasant experience, but when I reached the hill towards Botley, which Andy and I normally call the Westerham hill, I was beginning to feel it just a little bit, but took it in my stride and once I'd passed the Tatsfield Bus Stop on my right I realised that I'd almost cracked it and was on the home straight, just a short ride along the 269 and I'd be in Sanderstead. I decided to turn right on Beech Farm Road and follow it to Washpond Lane, turn left and then follow the twisting country lane to Ledgers Road where I turned right and basically headed for Warlingham Sainsbury's and the ride back along the Limpsfield Road. I was feeling good knowing that the ride was fizzling out and that I'd soon be home.

What great service at Bojangles, my sandwich, tea and cake...

I got back to an empty house around 1445hrs and then went shopping; and when I got back home it was Hot Cross Bun time! Perfect. The sun was out so I put up the parasol and chilled in the back garden reading the Guardian's Weekend magazine, a rare treat for me these days, but Tim Dowling is as good as ever. There were occasional gusts of wind that shook the parasol, but other than that the weather was warm and pleasant and I enjoyed sitting there doing virtually nothing until my wife and daughter returned and I made a chicken risotto.

This cake was absolutely perfect. I will return to Bojangles, Dunton Green

Right now, the light is fading, the wind has dropped and everything is still and cool. It's nights like these that I'd like to be camping out under the stars, but would I really do it, alone, in the back garden? I doubt it, not when there's a perfectly decent bed to sleep in. Or sleep on? Both perhaps.

I'm reading a great novel at the moment by Benjamin Myers called The Offing, it's the perfect book for an English summer. What to read after that I don't know, although there's a book by Sarah Moss that I might try.

Sanderstead to Dunton Green and back is 32.5 miles and the ride has been christened The Dunton Green Growler.

Lockdown, Pt.37: Getting Angry with the Government

Judge: “Before I pass sentence for stealing a tin of Heinz Baked Beans from Redhill Sainsbury’s, do you have anything to say, Mr. Twilley?”

MT: “Yes, your judgeship, I do. I have no need to steal a tin of baked beans. In fact my wife informs me we already have two tins in the larder. I took the baked beans to prove a point: that it’s one law for the criminals and another for us law-abiding citizens. They can kill innocent people in Manchester and then refuse to leave their cells for sentencing, they can arrive by dinghy but not quarantine for a day, let alone 14, they can drag a policeman to his death underneath a moving car and still only be charged with manslaughter, as if it wasn't really their fault, but if I as much as steal a tin of baked beans from the supermarket shelves, well, here I am, being sentenced. Do your worst, judge!”

Judge: “Eloquently put, Mr Twilley, but it won’t save you, I’m afraid. I sentence you to 16 years imprisonment.

MT: [Produces tin opener and proceeds to open another tin of baked beans] “Thank you, judge, and this is for you, you stuck-up piece of poo! [Showers judge and court dignitaries with cold baked beans and throws the empty tin at the jury]. Feel free to hand me an even longer sentence, you silly little man in your stupid wig, as I enjoyed every minute of that!"

Judge [Wiping baked beans from his eyes]: "Take him down, take him down."

Lockdown, Part 36: No cycling all week - the shame, the shame!

It's Sunday morning, 0952, I've just got back from a ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard, the Churchyard Chuffer no less, not a Chuffer Bastard Womble, just a plain old Chuffer, a direct ride from here, my home in Sanderstead, to the Tatsfield Churchyard. It's a straight 16 miles, well, if we're going to be pedantic about it, 16.03 miles, and my moving time was 1 hour and 24 minutes, plus 48 seconds, not far off one hour and 25 minutes, with an elevation gain of 957 feet and an average speed of 11.3 mph. Not bad. I managed a maximum speed of 29.8 miles an hour, probably on that stretch of Clarks Lane from Botley Hill to the Churchyard, so I'm generally happy.

The Rockhopper resting at Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 16 August 2020

What I'm not happy about is not cycling at all last week; it was just too damn hot! Until Thursday when we had monsoon rains and thunder and ever since then it's been cooler. On one ride, either last week or the week before, but possibly last Monday or Tuesday (although I think I've written about it so it might be a little further back) I got to the top of Church Way and thought, 'sod this, it's too hot' and then turned back, I just couldn't face it. So, a week of slobbing, doing nothing, not even walking and when you're working from home that means virtually no movement whatsoever. It can't be good for you, doing absolutely no exercise. But let's move on: today a healthy 16-miler got me started on this week's cycling and I'm just hoping I can keep myself motivated enough to put in, say three 20-milers during the week and then, perhaps, the churchyard on Saturday to round it all off or, of course, another ride to Redhill with a trip to the Pop Inn at the other end. It takes me an hour to reach Redhill from here, but around 90 minutes to get back, thanks to punishing hills all the way. The best thing about the ride to Redhill is the lack of cars. It's probably the most 'car-less' route I take and I'm amazed I haven't riden it more often.

There was a lot of mist at Botley Hill this morning. I had to stop halfway along the 269 to switch on my front and rear lights, and later Andy informed me that my rear light wasn't that strong. He had been riding behind me coming down Clarks Lane and we met by the stairs leading up to the churchyard. I think I'm going to invest in a decent rear light.

At the churchyard we sat and chatted about the bikes and the riding and generally chilled, drinking tea and munching a snack. One topic was my old Kona, which is currently resting in my garage, but for the sake of £300 could be up and running again. In many ways I should have fixed the Kona and not bought the Specialized, but I do like the Rockhopper with it's 29in wheels, even if I've spotted what I consider to be a design fault: the brake levers are quite sharp on the inside and recently I noticed one of my fingers was cut because I'd been placing it on the inside of the lever and not gripping it in the conventional manner on the outside. But this is a very minor problem and in many ways shouldn't even be mentioned, the bike's fine. It would, however, be nice to have a spare bike in the garage and don't forget, that Kona is a top-of-the-range mountain bike with expensive forks, even if it only has 16 gears to the Rockhopper's 27.

Our bikes, Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 16 August 2020. Pic: Andy Smith

Andy was on his road bike this morning, a Giant, and he still has his old road bike AND his Kona Blast. We reminisced about old times riding to Hunger's End in Merstham and Jon's old Kona Fire Mountain with its broken pedal. Both are now gone, Bon's bike and the caff. I reminded Andy that it was 10 years ago when we visited Hunger's End on a regular basis (remember Shaving Man?) and added how frightening it was to look back at old blog posts and see how young we both looked. "It was 10 years ago," said Andy. Yes, I thought, a whole decade, and we're still riding, which is good.

I can't work out whether the lockdown is over or not. We're all still queuing and now wearing masks to visit shops, I'm still working from home and they're now saying that if you're coming back from France, the Netherlands or Malta you've got to remain in quarantine at home for 14 days. So there was a big rush to get home before the 0400hrs deadline yesterday morning. I don't think I'd have bothered rushing home, what's wrong with 14 days remaining at home, the time soon passes. I wonder how many of those in quarantine actually go down with the virus? Probably none, but it's going to piss off the French who, no doubt, will retaliate in some way or other. The French, of course, are coming up for criticism for allowing so many migrants to make the short hop across the English Channel to the UK. Thousands have been coming in and it's annoying people like Nigel Farage and other right-leaning numpties, although I kind of get their argument. These people have already reached a safe country (France) so why risk their necks crossing the busy English Channel in a flimsy dinghy, I don't think I'd bother, although, apparently, the benefits system in the UK is too generous, according to some, and that makes the journey worthwhile. I don't think I'd do it, I'd rather stay in France and be part of the European Union. In fact, I might buy an inflatable and go the other way.

I must say a bit more about the storm on Thursday afternoon because it was fantastic. I'll be totally honest and say that I have never experienced weather like it, ever! There! I said it: EVER! Everything went dark and then the rains came, full on, full pelt, driving stair rods into the lawn like six-inch nails from a nail gun, and it went on for a long, long time and was accompanied by continuous rumbles of thunder from the grey skies above. There was something deliciously cosy and wintry about it. I was working, sitting at my computer, and all week I'd been sweltering hot, sweat soaking my tee-shirt, my forearms coated with a glistening sheen of wetness as if somebody had been sitting close-by spraying me with one of those bottles used to water delicate plants. But then there was the storm, everything cooled down and I remember feeling good about life as I stared out at the falling rain and yes, I was even thinking it'll do my lawn the world of good too. Avid readers will recall that I covered my lawn with 'weed and feed' and it's gone black, but I know that black lawns matter and that sooner or later I'll have to go out there and rake it and then put down some more grass seed, possibly in September. The garden is looking good, there are new plants in the beds, the lawn's been sorted out and the canopy over the kitchen window has been painted. We've even bought a new parasol.

But it's now mid-August and while the summer has yet to leave the building and we still have the August bank holiday to go, I'm kind of sad that we (and everybody else) haven't been able to take full advantage of the summer weather, which this year has been tremendous. In so many ways, it's wasteful. All those hotels and pubs that could have been coining it, all those live events that were cancelled because of the fucking corona virus. I hate hearing the words, either 'corona virus' or, worse still, 'covid-19', but also 'lockdown' and 'self-isolate' and 'quarantine' and I'm still wondering what the world is going to do to stop the Chinese from inflicting such misery on the rest of the world. What's wrong with them? Why did they initially cover it up? Why were they lying? People are now saying the virus escaped from a lab in Wuhan and had nothing to do with the wet market. But what was the virus doing in the lab, why were the Chinese messing around with it? I personally wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them, I wouldn't put it past them to be working on a virus, like COVID-19, that basically disables the world and allows them to benefit in some way. But what are we going to do about it? I bet that's the question on most people's lips because we've already heard experts warn of 'worse to come' and I can well believe it. Being in lockdown once is bad enough, but I wonder what people will be thinking if it happens again? I just get that sneaking feeling that it will happen again and that wearing masks and social distancing and all that comes with it will be internalised by all of us in future. It's not a nice thought and I just hope there's somebody out there with the balls to confront the Chinese and sort the whole mess out. Somehow I don't think there is anybody out there, we have shit leaders the world over: Trump, Johnson, Bolsanaro, you name it, they're all tossers. In fact the three people mentioned have royally messed up in their respective countries. The UK is the sick man of Europe, the US has many many cases and no real sign of leadership and it's the same in Brazil and Mexico and I'm sure elsewhere too. I also get the feeling that Trump's going to win a second term. I hope not, but I just get that nagging feeling about it. Is Biden any good? Every time I see him walk on to a stage he looks as if he's about to pass out or is walking tall, but very carefully as if the slightest move will see him keel over and not get up. His running mate is a controversial choice too by all accounts and I feel that people are going to vote for Trump again. I'd rather they didn't, but I see him getting a second term, unless the Republicans unseat him and put up somebody else, that could happen. Sadly, here in the UK we're stuck with BoJo, a right buffoon and as dishonest a politician as you could get. We've got over four years of his government to run and Keir Starmer waiting in the wings.

I do my best to try and avoid watching and listening to too much news. Oddly, since lockdown, I've switched from BBC Radio Four to LBC, although I can't bear that awful Nick Ferrari and tend to switch off at 0700hrs. Steve Allen in the morning is fine (brilliant, actually) and Nick Abbot on a Friday and Saturday night can be very funny.

I'm still in to box sets. Last night I watched The X Files, the night before a great movie, Back Country, both on Prime and it's good to avoid shit like The One Show with its severely overpaid presenters, specifically that terrible Alex Jones. Since when has she been worth £450,000 a year (or was that the equally awful Claudia Winkleman?). They're all bad and not worth the money. I prefer people like Dr. Alice Roberts (she presented a tremendous programme on wild swimming, which I know is fairly old, but still worth watching, they put it on the other day so I watched it again. Perfect.) On ITV I've been watching Julia Bradbury's series of programmes on the Greek islands. Not a great fan of Bradbury, but she's alright. In fact I'd say she's growing on me, but that's about it where television is concerned.

I'm warbling on so I'd better stop. I'm hoping to be able to motivate myself this week and try to exceed my 88 miles of the week before last. I've riden 16 miles today and now I need around three 20-milers under my belt and a trip to the lakes to put me on track for a good week of cycling. Here's hoping!

Lockdown, Part 35: A sense of doom

During the week I read that Michelle Obama was suffering from a kind of low-grade depression linked to the 'lockdown' and a sense of disappointment at the way things are moving in the USA. Well, I'm with her on that and I think the main source of what I can only describe as 'low grade depression' is a nagging sense of doom. I used to feel that way occasionally and whenever it arose I would wrack my brains to find its source. Normally, it was work-related, like when your holiday draws to a close and the spectre of work on Monday looms large.

When the lockdown started I was full of bravado about it. In short, I was loving it. I told readers here on the blog that it was great, like Christmas. I was eating a lot, cooking a lot and cycling a lot, all good in my book. But now I'm wondering whether I was putting on a brave face, making the best of things and, I suppose, being British. I kind of believed it, though. I got into a routine. I did the shopping, I was in charge of what everybody was eating, I developed weekly theme nights on Saturdays, set up a fictional restaurant, Handel's, and I started watching box sets (X Files, Ozark, The Sinner). I used to criticise people who watched box sets. I know people who do nothing else but watch end-to-end episodes for months and years on end, it's not healthy. Well, now I'm doing the same thing and I'm putting it down to trying to shut out the reality of the situation. Outside of lockdown, therefore, watching box sets all day is a sign that you simply can't handle the reality of your life.

Redhill on Saturday around noon...

The novelty of lockdown, however, has, as I've said recently, started to wear off. The cycling has moved from being a leisure activity to something I must do to maintain a certain level of fitness and suddenly the routine of everything has become oppressive. Everything has become monochromatic, the multi-faceted aspect of life has left the building and I'm left very down. Watching television, I find that there are plenty of reminders of a time when there was no lockdown. Sometimes, somebody actually says 'this was filmed before lockdown' and then there are shots of people in coffee shops or in crowded nightclubs and it's like watching people from another planet, another time. And now it's all made that little bit worse by television advertising for holidays and hotels and the fact that everybody is thinking: Yeah, fine, but what if we have to self-isolate on our return and what if the travel company goes bust? Suddenly, nothing is simple anymore.

The last thing I want to do now is fly. The idea of sitting on a plane wearing a mask is too much. I'd happily have a 'staycation' - now there's a horrible word - preferably on the south coast, but anywhere not too far away will do. I seem to yearn for a holiday more and more these days, much more than I used to, and that's probably because I'm working at home and home has become the office and a constant reminder of being at work.

I think the worst thing is knowing that nothing is going to change, not for the foreseeable future at any rate. The whole thing has been 'normalised' and people, as we all know, keep talking about the 'new normal' as if resigning themselves to a future of social distancing, self-isolation and treating everybody as if they were lepers. Wearing a mask and socially distancing are now part of life (until they find a vaccine) but even then problems loom. While I like reading about conspiracy theories I've noticed that I'm starting to believe them, especially the notion that a vaccine might be some kind of sinister plot by 'the establishment' or the so-called 'illuminati' to kill people off, reduce the population a little bit and ease up on the financial burden of pension payments. Perhaps that's what the whole virus thing is about, reducing global population levels, and I'm starting to wonder whether I'd take the vaccine if it was offered or simply take my chances with the virus as those around me start foaming at the mouth and dying from a mystery illness while world leaders smile slyly at one another at the next G20 meeting.

That feeling of being doomed persists. In the past it was an occasional thing and when I discovered that it was connected to work or a dentist's appointment I returned to the land of the living, now it's there constantly. I feel as if I'm always frowning and definitely always bad-tempered about something.

I kid myself that regular bike rides are making me superfit, but I'm forgetting that the bike rides are the only exercise I'm getting. In the good old, pre-lockdown days, I would be walking a lot during the day, walking to and from the station, walking around the office and sometimes walking a few extra miles at lunch time; and in the evening I might hoof it to the next station up the line from where I normally board the train. Cycling was, if you like, an adjunct to all of this - short rides to the bus stop or Woodmansterne Green to see Bon, it didn't matter as I was getting loads of other forms of exercise. But let's not be too harsh on my riding, the cycling is good whichever way you look at it and life would have been hell if my chosen sport had been swimming as all the pools are closed and I'd be left with the prospect of 'wild swimming' in some rat-infested lake.

Lunch at the Pop Inn in Redhill on Saturday

This week I rode around 67 miles, as opposed to last week's 88 miles. The weather has been extremely hot. On Friday it was 37 degrees and when it came to getting on the bike I shuffled outside, hot and bothered, and managed to reach the top of Church Lane before deciding it was simply too hot to ride the bike. I had been out on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Had I forced myself to ride the bike on Friday I would have been in line for a respectable weekly total of something like 91 miles, but no, I freewheeled back along the road and put the bike back in the garage. On Saturday morning I left early for Redhill. It took me about an hour to get there - on quiet and car-free roads - and 90 minutes to get back, thanks to massive hills that slowed me down, but it was a great ride and in between I visited the Pop Inn Cafe for a chicken fillet sandwich and a mug of tea. The Pop Inn hasn't suffered, they stayed open during the lockdown as a takeaway operation and then reopened as a cafe once things were allowed to open up a little. There's a couple of tables people can't use - the Pop Inn's nod to social distancing - and when I got there I decided to sit outside in the sunshine. Lunch over I got back on the bike and headed out of town, initially on the A23, but then branching off right and riding along Frenchies Road and then under the tracks and into Merstham before heading out of town and towards Warwick Wold Road and then over the motorway, right into Springbottom Lane, left on to White Hill Lane (a very, very steep hill) and onwards to Chaldon, Caterham, Whyteleafe and the ominous Tithe Pit Shaw Lane in where, Warlingham or Whytleafe? It's another massive hill, that's all you need to know. Unlike Prince Andrew, by the time I was on the level of Wentworth Road and heading towards the Limpsfield Road (B269) I was a sweating, blubbering hulk in camouflage shorts and a bright orange tee-shirt.

When I reached home I had a bowl of Alpen and then a shower followed by a trip to Waitrose to do the weekly shop. I was feeling good.

On Sunday, the plan was to meet Andy at 0800hrs at the Churchyard, our first early meeting in months. I left the house around 0715hrs and felt the cool early morning breeze on my face as I pedalled along Ellenbridge towards Church Lane. There aren't many cars on the road in the morning and soon I was out in open countryside heading towards Botley Hill, turning left on to Clarks Lane and riding down the hill towards St. Mary's. Andy was already there. We chatted about lockdown and our bikes. Andy's gear cable had snapped, but the bike was still fit to ride. I drank tea and ate a small wrapped cookie given to me by Andy, and soon we were on our way home. I rode back along the 269, but then took a right on Beech Farm Road followed by a left on Washpond Road, a right on to Ledgers Road and a left on to Church Road. Soon I was back on the 269 and heading for Warlingham Green. Andy had already said goodbye, at The Ridge, and we vowed to meet again next Sunday.

I haven't seen an early morning mist for many months and it was good to catch one today on my right hand side as I rode along Clarks Lane and started on my descent towards the churchyard. Had I stayed on the bike I would have descended further (into Westerham). I might have experienced a cool breeze on my face and arms as the road dipped and then levelled out and the temperature might have dropped momentarily before I reached the Northern Kent market town. But today it was the churchyard where solitude and sunshine rule supreme and always have done. It's a great place, especially on a summer's day, and with social distancing still on everybody's agenda, it offered both of us a wooden bench each.

I reached home before 1000hrs and painted the canopy over the kitchen window, it needed a second coat, and now it's done and drying in the heat of the sun. The heat has been constant this past week, culminating in Friday's 37-degree scorcher and continuing throughout the weekend. It was very hot on the ride to and from Redhill, and it was hot today too, but going early meant slightly cooler air, I think it was around 13 degrees when I left the house at just gone 0700hrs. There's rumour of stormy weather mid-week and I'm sure there will be loads of Daily Mail-readers saying it'll be good for the garden, my mum among them. Hot weather has characterised the lockdown and in many ways it's been a waste of a decent summer.

That word 'lockdown', of course, doesn't really tell it like it is. In a sense we're all still in lockdown, despite the various 'relaxations'. The 'new normal' basically means that we go out to go shopping, wearing a mask, and we can only go somewhere else, like the pub, if we have booked in advance. And when we get there we find food ordering via mobile phone apps and seats socially distanced from one another. This is the annoying and depressing reality, that things are the same, but they're not the same. And then, of course, there are large pockets of resistance, like the so-called 'covidiots' on our beaches cramming themselves on to the sand and throwing caution to the wind. And let's not forget those who refuse to wear a mask, just to be stroppy about it.

In the general scheme of things, however, I don't have much to moan about, it's just that I'm getting a little fed up with the way things are, and, like Michelle Obama, I can't say I'm too happy with the way things are moving politically.

It's now just gone 1800hrs on Sunday evening, it's still hot outside and I'm sitting in the shade of my living room thinking about cooking dinner, but then realising it's almost too hot to eat right now. Perhaps I'll put the oven on around 1900hrs when things have cooled down a little.

Another week of work beckons and the routine will be exactly the same as the last 20 weeks: work, ride, dinner, television, sleep... repeat and fade.

Lockdown, Part 34: To the lake!

Around three decades ago I bought a Supergrass album from Virgin Records (£13.99) and never really listened to it. The CD in question? In it for the Money. So I'm driving over to mum's and I've decided to listen to it, properly, in the way we used to 'listen' to albums back in the olden days. I remember how I used to listen to albums and how they changed as familiarity with specific tracks crept in. Well, here I am doing just that, but in a car. When I used to 'listen' to albums, it was 'back home' when I lived with mum and dad. I'd be in the bedroom playing whatever it might be over and over again, rocking with the rhythm and soon getting to grips with the good and bad tracks. But here I am three decades on, driving (a great place to get to grips with any album) and I've decided that the track Late in the Day is fantastic. In fact, while I say 'here I am', I'm not sitting in the car anymore, I'm now at home and I've found the track on Spotify. Let me level with you: I found the track on Spotify, I listened to it and now I've moved on, to the Charlatans, and before that I listened to Roll with It by Oasis, a top band if you ask me. Anyway, why am I telling you this? There's no reason really, no inner meaning, no hidden message, I've just been listening to Supergrass and found a great track on one of their albums. That's all there is.

The Honey Monster got there before me...

What's happening with the lockdown? Who knows? Well, the pubs have re-opened (I've been a couple of times, but to eat, not drink, apart from mineral water). Everything is opening up. In fact, I've lost touch with what you can and can't do. All I do know is that masks are now compulsory in shops and on public transport, although today (Saturday) I saw three people in Waitrose who weren't wearing masks. Very annoying. How come they think they're special? It's not worth saying anything, but they didn't look like people with 'special needs'. I think they were just waiting for somebody to challenge them so they could tell them to 'fuck off'. Something like that. But while things are supposedly easing up, we're hearing that a second wave is now a full-on reality we all need to be aware of; pubs, claims the BBC, might have to close so that schools can re-open. Eh? Why? It's all mixed messages. Johnson's going to try and tackle obesity, mainly because he's a fat bastard and nearly died as a result. COVID doesn't like fat people. My advice? Just eat fresh food, it's that simple, and it's cheaper than buying all that pre-prepared shit, which is full of salt and all sorts of rubbish.

Chipstead Lake, Saturday 1st August 2021 around 0925hrs...

I've done pretty well on the cycling front this week. But let's go back and look, roughly, at how things have been going since I got the bike out of the shop. After a week of no cycling when I didn't have the bike, I put in something like 64 miles, then last week it was 71 and now, this week, I've managed 88.15 miles. During the week I rode three 20-milers and I gave them all stupid names, like the Reverse Chump and Bastard - a direct ride into Tatsfield Village and then round to St. Mary's church, on to Clarks Lane, then back on the 269 and hanging a right on to Beech Farm Road, following the lanes round to Warlingham Sainsbury's then rejoining the Limpsfield Road (which is the 269) and heading for home. In essence I did this three times, with minor variations. The second ride I called a Slogger, Chump and Bastard and then there was a Beddlestead Chump Bastard Womble, all variations on a theme, setting me up nicely for today's ride to the lakes, which wasn't given a silly name (not yet at any rate). I've not riden to the lakes for a long time and as Andy and I have always said, we tend these days to ride to the lakes alone. Why that should be, I don't know, but it's true and I was there today, early and alone, arriving at 0921hrs and then just basking in the sun with the Honey Monster, just him and I, looking at the lake and soaking up a few rays. I brought a Vanilla Chai tea along for the ride and chilled for a good 20 minutes before packing things up and embarking upon the gruelling return ride. Make no mistake, a 30-miler to the lakes and back will take it out of you. When I reached home I made myself another breakfast. Having already eaten porridge and fruit around 0700hrs, when I reached home at 1100hrs, I added two Shredded Wheat, a slice of bread and butter and a cup of tea. Much needed. I'll be honest, I was feeling deliciously weary and tired, that lovely relaxed feeling that strenuous exercise gives you. I had a shower and then slobbed around for a bit, watching The Railway Children and then, around 1600hrs, going shopping to Waitrose, where I saw those three mask-less individuals.

Sheree's Store and Tearoom in Tatsfield village - closed when I got there!

I forgot to mention the tearoom I 'discovered' in Tatsfield  village on one of my mid-week rides. Sheree's Store and Tearoom looked rather good and one to remember for Andy and I when the early rides start up again. I got there just past 1700hrs hoping I'd be able to buy myself some mineral water, but no, it was closed. In fact, I realised that on a ride from my house into Tatsfield village, whether the fast or the slow way, once you've passed Warlingham Sainsbury's there's nowhere in hell where you can stock up on food or water so it's best to take stuff with you. It was hot during the week and I was thirsty, but I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to wait until I reached home. Thirsty work.

The village sign and the pub...

The lakes was a great ride, seriously good, so chilled, especially riding along Pilgrims Lane. I could have sat there all day on the green in front of the pub and was reminded of a ride I did with Andy back in April 2011; that was a hot day too and we all had too much to drink, but in a good way. There's a Harvey's pub in Chipstead, right by the lake, and it offers great beer and excellent food. I remember once when Andy and I rode to the lakes early one morning and the waft of bacon sandwiches from the pub reached our noses, but they weren't selling them, it was too early, so we simply enjoyed the aroma and then headed home.

The weather has been amazing, not just of late but throughout the lockdown. I took Friday off because the temperature reached 34 degrees Centigrade, the hottest July 31st in 200 years, or so they say, which I'm guessing is when records began. Perhaps not. Today it was warm, not as hot as yesterday, but very, very pleasant. It's hot now. There's a cool breeze coming in from an open window and outside I note it's a full moon. It's 2145hrs and dark. Let's not forget, we've passed the summer solstice so it's getting dark again in the evening, very depressing. But there's still a lot of summer time left, it's now 1st August and the year has been flying by and everyone has been stuck indoors protecting themselves from COVID-19. The virus has ruined 2020 and it's such as shame because it's been a real scorcher.

While the lockdown is supposed to be easing, in essence nothing has changed for most people. There are still queues at the supermarket, people are still socially distancing and while the government is paying people to eat out and encouraging us to go back to work, there's now talk of a second wave and another lockdown. It's all getting very tiresome.

Woodmansterne Green
Sunday was another hot day and I rode to Woodmansterne Green to see Bon. We had a good chat about stuff and departed around 1000hrs. The ride from Sanderstead is 10.59 miles and took exactly one hour, that's 30 minutes each way.