Loving our rides to Tatsfield on Sunday Morning

You might have noticed that I've stopped putting the word 'Lockdown' in front of all my posts. The reason is simple: we're not in lockdown any more. In fact, give or take, I've never been in lockdown. From the get-go I've been riding my bike out into the sticks in what can only be described as amazing weather from the beginning, even in March/April when, traditionally, you might expect rain and cloudy days. Not in 2020 as I'm sure you all know.

At the beginning of lockdown as you also know, I wasn't seeing much of Andy. It made sense to 'socially distance' ourselves, but as we were saying this morning, the whole thing has been over-hyped by the media and is probably nowhere near as bad as it's being made out to be. First, you've got this whole thing about the statistics and the fact that a death is counted as a COVID death even if, say, you were diagnosed as having the virus and then got knocked over by a bus. I mean, how inaccurate the figures must be! And that inaccuracy fuels fear and that gets the media going and it's a vicious circle. I still don't know anybody who has or had the virus and I don't know anybody who knows somebody who's had it either. Perhaps it's all a big lie. Who knows? And who cares? As I say, I've never been locked down. The bike equals freedom to me, I've been riding over 100 miles a week throughout the summer and the minor inconvenience of queuing in the supermarket car park, well, that's all it is, a minor inconvenience.

The Rockhopper at Tatsfield village, Sunday 27 September 2020

As the days have gone by, the restrictions have lessened. People started eating out on the government, pubs have re-opened and now, of course, they're all about to close again as localised restrictions have been applied in certain areas, thanks mainly to the 'covidiots' who have ignored all advice from the beginning (and I include members of the Government itself, namely our idiotic Prime Minister and his odd sidekick Dominic Cummings). Johnson (look, the man's a nob, right?) boasted about shaking hands with COVID sufferers before going down with the disease and nearly killing himself. I'm not sure whether Cummings had it or just thought he had it, but either way we all know what he did: he drove hundreds of miles to the North East of England, with his family, and took the scenic route via Barnard Castle on the return journey; the man's a complete arse.

Anyway, as the summer progressed, Andy and I were getting fitter and fitter. Andy lost two stone and I haven't really weighed myself although, as I said to Andy this morning, I've taken to eating around two to three bowls of Alpen every day, the first one at the crack of dawn (around 0600hrs while listening to Steve Allen on LBC) and then, perhaps, another one mid-morning or just before lunch. I love it and I'm buying a family pack to ensure that I don't run out mid-week. I hasten to add that I'm buying the 'no added sugar' Alpen and not the full-on original.

The riding over the past six months has been fantastic and I'm getting fitter by the day. I know this because I'm finding I have more energy whilst riding. Today, for instance, I rode to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy (Phil was going to come, but said it was too windy; and Geoff, who joins us occasionally and always arrives by car, simply couldn't make it). For the past few weeks, Andy and I have been meeting at the Tatsfield Churchyard, taking full advantage of the amazing weather. As you also know, if you're keeping abreast of my posts. we've been meeting at Tatsfield and not meeting at the green and riding together. I think we would both agree that this is far the better option as we get the time to ride at our own pace. I've noticed - and this goes back to my point about increasing fitness - that I'm getting to Tatsfield within around 40 minutes and my ride there is much faster than it used to be; I'm finding hills easier to tackle, especially the incline on the 269 just beyond Ledgers Road. In fact, talking of being able to ride segments of road faster than ever before, Strava tells me that I'm a local legend on the stretch between Sanderstead Waitrose and Mitchley Road or Avenue or whatever it's called. A local legend! What the hell does that mean? Not much, I'm guessing, as I've yet to see people pointing at me or asking for my autograph or reaching for their mobile phones to take a shot of me. But still, I'm a local legend.

So getting on to our Sunday rides, they're absolutely fantastic. Today and last week we rode to the Tatsfield Village. Why? Well, last week it was because we wanted to check out the tearoom that we thought would be open. I was hoping we could go in there and sit around drinking tea and munching biscuits, but no, it didn't officially open until 0900hrs as, again, I have mentioned in a previous post. Fortunately for us there was a coffee machine, and by 'us' I mean Andy, myself and Phil who joined us. Phil was on his restored Honda CB750 and when we departed he promised to be there this week, but bailed out at the last minute because of the high winds. Geoff never made it either. Today, then, it was just Andy and I and we diverted from the planned ride to the churchyard because I'd ran out of tea and thought I'd buy some at the shop (which doubles as a teashop after 0900hrs). But of course, you all know that because I've already told you.

I really look forward to the Sunday rides, mainly because it means conversation. A lot of my mid-week rides are solitary (in fact, all of them are) so it's nice to be able to chat to somebody before riding home, although on the solitary rides there's no time to chat or do anything before the return ride because there is no 'return ride', it's all one continuous loop. There were times during the summer when I reserved Saturday for a longer ride, to the lakes or to Dunton Green or Redhill, and these rides would involve a stop somewhere, like on the green in front of the pub facing the lake in Chipstead village in Kent, or in Bojangles at Dunton Green (see previous posts) or, if I'd riden to Westerham, I'd stop on the green (in the days before the caffs were open) and take my time sipping a mint tea while watching cars and bikes and people as they passed by on the A25.

Something else I've been really enjoying is the commute to work in Redhill during the week during the week I'm supposed to be in the office. I had no intention of contributing to the economy as Boris was insisting so I rode in three times - Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday - and while it was fairly exhausting on the return ride (White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane or Road or whatever it's called) it was exhilarating in the extreme, even if I did find myself in bed around 2130hrs. Mind you, getting up at 0530hrs was a bit of an ordeal, although I managed it without too much fuss, packed everything into a rucksack and headed for the office at 0630. It takes one hour and 10 minutes and then I have a shower and start work. You can't beat it, or rather it was unbeatable while the sun was shining, but now the weather has turned and we're in to 'autumnal' conditions (think wind, rain and colder temperatures) it's a case of getting out the waterproof trousers and finding a waterproof jacket and some gloves or simply not bothering and spending money on the train instead. I want to bother, though, because I don't particularly want to give any of my hard-earned money to the Government in the form of extortionate train fares. Alright, I buy a beef and horseradish sandwich in the supermarket for a meagre £2.25, but that's my limit.

On the week when I'm heading into Redhill on the bike, my mileage goes through the roof. I'm well over 80 miles when I reach home on the Wednesday night and then it's a case of motivating myself to do a long ride on Saturday morning to knock my total over 90 miles. I'm happy if I ride around 85 miles, so anything over that is a bonus. This week I think I managed something like 83 miles. I rode to Redhill twice last week (on Monday and Tuesday) and on Tuesday I took the Sustrans route home, bumping up the mileage from 24 to 31 miles. See the previous post if you want to read about Sustrans Route 21, which was the route I took, but I doubt I'll do that again on a ride home from work. It doubled the ride time from just over one hour to just over two hours. In fact, this week has been piss poor. Since returning from Redhill on Tuesday night I didn't ride again until yesterday when I met Bon at Woodmansterne Green (roughly 10 miles). As I say, I rode around 83 miles this week, mainly because I didn't ride on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, which is a bit of a shame.

Another part of my conversation with Andy this morning was all about how far we ride during the week. Andy has been doing short rides of around 10 miles and sticking close to the house in case of bike problems. I've been riding further (between 12 and 18 miles). However, should a problem arise for Andy, he walks home with ease. If anything happens to me while on Washpond Lane, the walk home would take a long time, possibly an hour or more. Andy's shorter close-to-home excursions, compared to my rides into the sticks, have their own merits. A daily 10-mile ride soon accumulates, add on the Sunday ride to Tatsfield and you're starting to look at around 65/66 miles, throw in a ride to the lakes and you're weekly total is getting close to 100 miles. Now that the weather is closing in I might start following Andy's model of short, close-to-home rides during the week, a longer ride on Saturday morning and then, of course, the great ride to Tatsfield to meet Andy and possibly Phil and Geoff on Sunday.

On today's ride to Tatsfield I had a few issues, the main one being no tea. It meant buying some in Tatsfield so I texted Andy to say meet there and not the churchyard. I didn't have a mask on, but the guy in the store said it was fine if I kept my distance, which I did. Tea purchased I waited for Andy to arrive. It was a blustery and grey day, but I can't say I noticed it, I was more interested in being out there in the fresh air, powering (yes, powering) along the 269 heading for Botley Hill as the branches of trees and bushes on either side of me swayed to and and fro. It wasn't that cold, certainly not cold enough to wear gloves, but I'd started to think about preparing for the winter weather. In fact, I need to find my balaclava and my gloves and I might have to start wearing the rusty-coloured old jacket hanging in the wardrobe. It's old and torn and makes me look like a tramp and it goes with my long, straggly, unkempt hair that hasn't been cut since before the lockdown. Could I let it grow until the end of the year? Well, only if there are no business trips.

We headed for home and once again I joined Andy to ride along The Ridge and into Woldingham, something I wouldn't have done pre-lockdown. I was fit enough now to take Slines Oak Road in my stride, thanks to hills like White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane. We parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road and vowed to meet again next Sunday. I reached home around 1000hrs and got on with the rest of my day.

Riding Sustrans Route 21

Last night's ride home from work was interesting. I've been wracking my brains as to how to avoid White Hill Lane, a huge, steep hill on the return journey and it's always a trade-off. It can be avoided if I take lesser but still arduous climbs, but it also means more traffic elsewhere or a dangerous roundabout to circumnavigate. So, I'm on my way home last night, resigned to the fact that hills are coming and I see a sign for Route 21, a Sustrans route and it's heading to where I'm going. Why not? I decided to bite the bullet and give it a try.

Gravel pathways, surrounded on either side by trees and bushes, stretches of trails with sand dune sand sending the bike's rear wheel all over the place, gravel tracks causing the tyres to slip and slide and rooted pathways through dense woods, up hills and down, making life on the saddle very challenging. There were short stretches of country lane - and I mean short - because before I knew it I was back off-road and wondering when it was all going to end. At one point I found myself in the middle of a wooded area with paths to the left and right and one straight ahead of me. Instinctively, almost, I opted for the latter and miraculously I managed to stay on Route 21 throughout. There were places where there were no signs and I had to gamble, but every time I gambled correctly and sooner or later another Route 21 sign would appear. At one stage I met a couple of walkers and they assured me I was on the right track. I called Andy and he later confirmed that I was heading in the right direction. Tupwood Lane. I remembered that name from reading a map book a few days ago, it looked as if I was heading into Caterham, but even when I reached the suburbs, which I assumed were lurking somewhere, the route suddenly plunged me into the deepest countryside again (or so it seemed). Towards the end of the ride (and wow, what a ride!) I found myself within the grounds of the very grand Woldingham School, which was alive with school sports. A road that dissected the school grounds went on forever, but eventually I emerged close to a golf club on the outskirts of Warlingham and turned left, following the road towards Slines Oak Road, an old and familiar friend. At this stage in the ride I noticed another cyclist who, I'm guessing, was more familiar with Route 21 than I was. When we reached the golf club he veered off left and headed for the hills. I followed him, but when I saw the hill ahead of me and realised that the gravel path would mean dismounting, I turned back and stuck to the road, eventually climbing Slines Oak, as I had done over the weekend, and riding along the 269 towards home.

My journey time had been doubled and the mileage had increased from the expected 24.67 miles to just over 31 miles. Not bad, and in a way I'm glad that I got some extra miles under my belt, but I doubt I'll be riding home that way again, it was far too much of an ordeal for a ride home from work. My aim had been to avoid White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane, but at what cost? The White Hill Lane route is a short, sharp shock, three punishing hills in total and a ride time of just over an hour. Yes, it's hard, very hard (on the return journey); so hard that I find it very daunting as I ride along Springbottom Lane anticipating the climb ahead of me. But once it's over, it's plain sailing and it never takes more than one hour and 10 minutes. I reach home invigorated and ready to stuff my face with anything that's available. Last night, I was amazed to get home at all - I was reminded of The Footpath to Dunton Green - and still stuffed my face like there was no tomorrow, but the journey time had doubled and I must have walked through the door around one hour after I would have returned had I braved the hills. So a lesson has been learnt: the hills home are bad, but they're doable (should that word be hyphenated?) and for that reason alone I shouldn't seek out longer, more complicated routes, like Sustrans Route 21. That said, I was amazed that I could get home from Redhill all the way virtually off-road. Even now as I write this thinking back to being in the middle of the woods, reliant only on a small sign with the words 'Route 21' written on it, I'm thinking how incredible it was to be 'out there' like that, no roads, no cars, no people. Incredible how these routes exist and that, by and large, they work. Perhaps not ideal for the commute home, but for a weekend ride? Perfect. I must tell Andy.

Lockdown, Pt.42: Autumnal weather, The Grateful Dead, Phil's back, weird dreams...

Last night a strange dream. I was in a hotel and I think it was in Dusseldorf. Next thing I know I'm leaving the hotel dressed only in a duvet. I remember reaching a wall with a sliding door and when I opened it there was another sliding door and another and once through I found myself in a huge, empty, white space, like some kind of hangar. At that point I seemed to come to my senses. Perhaps it would be a good idea to wear some proper clothes and not a duvet, perhaps it would be best to return to the hotel room and collect my stuff before departing. And then, of course, I woke up. Actually, I'd woken up earlier, just before 0400hrs and debated going downstairs when the clock moved round an hour, but instead I just stayed in bed and eventually I drifted off until, all of sudden, I heard the sound of birdsong, my alarm. It was time to get up and make breakfast, listen to LBC's Steve Allen, eat some Alpen, drink some tea and start writing this blogpost. I can't remember whether I had the dream before I woke up at 0400hrs or after I'd drifted off. Why, I wonder, are all of my dreams fretful? The weird thing is that, in the real world, wearing only a duvet on the streets would seem less strange than it did in the dream. If I was stuck in a foreign city dressed only in a duvet, I'd see the funny side and do something about it and, of course, I'd go back to the hotel, I'd need my passport and my wallet, credit card and so forth.

Friday evening at the Churchyard

Anyway, enough of walking around wearing only a duvet. It was a reasonable week. I was working at home again so the cycling was in the late afternoon. I managed something like 82 miles, down on last week's 90 miles, but good enough. I only had one day off (Tuesday). The weather was good, but I've heard that summer is preparing to leave the building next week some time. The weather guys on the television are using the word 'autumnal' but they're not fooling me. There's going to be colder temperatures and rain as the country plummets towards winter and I'm sure it's going to restrict my cycling. Not that I can complain. If nothing else, 2020 has been great for cycling and, as you know if you've been reading previous posts, I've been riding up to 100 miles a week, sometimes more. And the weather's been great. The heat hasn't really let up either, apart from a few days of gusty wind and showers, but not much. So the fact that we're going to get some 'autumnal' weather, well, bring it on. 

Not sure if I've mentioned this yet, but I bumped into Phil as I was about to head into Westerham last week. He was riding a restored Honda CB750 that's around 40 years old. It looks good. According to Phil he was taking the bike on its inaugural ride. We chatted about this and that and how he's been getting on with his life and (surprise surprise) has had little time for cycling. We agreed to meet up the following week but nothing materialised, until yesterday (Saturday 19 September) when he arrived at Tatsfield Village on the Honda. We'd planned to check out Sheree's tearoom, but it turns out it's not open until 0900hrs and we were there at 0800hrs. I considered cycling into Westerham, but Andy and Phil were reluctant and besides, the woman in the store said there was a coffee machine. The weather was fine so we ordered a black coffee, a cappuccino and a hot chocolate, plus three Twix bars and sat outside on the tables close to the lake and it was fine. In fact, it was more than fine, it was great. It was as if Phil hadn't been absent at all and in a sense we kind of picked up where we left off. He told us about Fred, his new baby, and the new house that he was fixing up and we chatted about the vast amounts of cycling we'd been doing throughout lockdown. It looks like Phil might start riding again – he needs to, he claims he's put on two stone in weight. So the plan is to meet next week, on Saturday, but let's see what the weather will be like. Either way, it's great that Phil's back. The NoVisibleLycra committee met to discuss whether he needed to re-apply for membership, but it was okay, his existing arrangement had yet to lapse so all was well with the world.

Temporary lights in Woldingham

Around 0900hrs we headed home, Phil on his Honda and Andy and I on our bikes. I rode along The Ridge towards Woldingham with Andy, although he was heading for Ditchling Beacon (now that's a climb!). We parted company at the top of Gangers Hill and I suddenly remembered I had to ride up Slines Oak Road on to the 269. As it turned out it was easy, probably because of the all the riding I've been doing. Riding to the Churchyard and then heading home via Woldingham bumps up the mileage to over 18 miles so I did it again this morning after meeting Andy at the Tatsfield Churchyard where we drank tea and chatted about The Grateful Dead. During the week I watched a six-part documentary, produced by Martin Scorsese, on the band and it's members, including, of course, the iconic Jerry Garcia. The Grateful Dead is/was a peculiarly American band with international reach that embodied everything good about hippy notions of freedom and sunshine. Alright, the whole thing revolved around psychedelic drugs, but the guys in the band looked surprisingly good on it. Garcia, however, developed weight problems and diabetes and had started 'using' other more dangerous drugs. He died aged just 53 of a heart attack, which, while probably inevitable, is a big shame because, well, he seemed like such a nice guy. I've been watching interviews on YouTube and he's remarkably lucid and together when you consider the amount of acid he's taken. In fact, he's a great interviewee, somebody who answers the questions in-depth and has an enthusiasm that is infectious and life-affirming. When I was younger I used to think that The Grateful Dead was some kind of heavy rock band moving along similar tracks to the British psych-rock band Hawkwind, but nothing could be further from the truth. The music, by and large, is light and breezy and easy to get on with. I don't think the Grateful Dead would have been the same had they originated in the UK. The band had such a massive following. The Dead Heads – that's the name of Grateful Dead fans – used to turn up for concerts even if they didn't have tickets. Instead of watching the gig on the inside they'd simply congregate around the venue and have their own party outside. It's funny how the band and its lead guitarist Jerry Garcia took on almost religious significance for the Dead Heads, with Garcia a kind of Messiah figure. Interestingly, the band claims it didn't have a leader and nobody was allowed to tell other band members what to do. The egalitarian set-up seemed to work. I'm now thinking about finding the definitive book on the band and Jerry Garcia, who, incidentally, had a Ben & Jerry's ice cream named after him (Cherry Garcia). There are many many Grateful Dead albums out there. I remember buying Blues for Allah back in the late seventies, but 'the Dead' were a very prolific band and I'd like to know what albums are regarded as their best. There's an album entitled American Beauty and I'm wondering whether it had any influence on the film of the same name starring Kevin Spacey (something to Google later).

Phil's Honda CB750, Tatsfield, 19 September

Moving away from The Grateful Dead, there's always the fucking virus to talk about. As I suspected a long time ago, a second wave is upon us. I made three predictions: that Trump would get a second term, that there would be a second wave of COVID-19 and that we'd have a no-deal Brexit. Looks like they're all going to come true, although I'm possibly on shaky ground where Trump is concerned as the polls are predicting a win for Joe Biden. The problem with Biden, in my opinion, is that he's kind of the walking dead. He always seems on the verge of falling flat on his face, and when he talks he's often unintelligible. In a way I can't believe that Biden could ever be president of the USA or, if he does make it, he won't be there long as the guy's simply too old. I still think Trump will win and then we'll follow up with a no-deal Brexit (while a new lockdown has been imposed on the nation). You could say I'm a purveyor of doom and gloom, but in my world it's looking like a reality we all have to deal with. 

Andy's bike at the top of Ditchling Beacon in East Sussex

Right now there are regional lockdowns here, there and everywhere and we're no longer allowed to congregate in groups of more than six. Pubs are being told to close at 2200hrs and there's rumours floating around that people won't be able to meet members of other households. Bang goes my tea and cake round at mum's, although nothing's set in stone yet. The problem, of course, is the 'covidiots' who simply don't believe there is a virus and will probably refuse to be vaccinated when a vaccine becomes available. There are also rumours that the Government could force us all to take an unproven vaccine if it so wished, although that might have been an inflammatory story generated by a newspaper designed to pedal doom and gloom and incite revolution.

Jerry Garcia, The Grateful Dead...

Winter is coming and that means it's all going to get worse. The Government has basically lost control of the virus. It wants the kids back to school, the students back to university and the people back to work, but that will all lead to more infections. They can't have it both ways. They've made a fiasco of testing and all the while you must remember that Boris Johnson is, quite simply, a fucking arse. He's not to be trusted. He's not even 100% committed to Brexit. Remember when he wrote two articles for a newspaper, probably the Daily Telegraph, one being pro-leave, the other remain. In fact, there are rumours that he might resign, which would be great. I can't stand it when I hear people say, "Boris Johnson should take charge of the situation". Actually, that's the problem, he IS in charge and look at the mess he's making. He's a blathering, bumbling, obese man with a stupid haircut, but then don't they all have stupid haircuts? Look at Donald Trump! The problem we have here in the UK is that there's four more years of Bojo. At least the Americans can ditch Trump in just over eight weeks if they so wish. I better sign off before I go crazy thinking about what a mess the country is in. 

Lockdown, Pt.41: Back to work - on the bike!

Last week's rides...

Sunday, ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard, 16 miles.
Monday, ride to Westerham, 20 miles
Tuesday, Washpond Wurlitzer, 15 miles
Wednesday, day off.
Thursday, ride round the block, 8.9 miles. 

Friday, Washpond Wurlitzer, 15 miles.

Saturday, Westerham, 21 miles.

Total: 95.5 miles (last week's cycling). 

This week, it's only Thursday and I've already put in over 88 miles.

All of last weekend I was bugged by the notion of returning to work. It's just that the last six months have been spent at home and now the process, the routine, has to change again. I'm not too bothered about it, to be honest, and you could say a change is as good as a rest, but, in the same way that it felt odd packing up my stuff in the office and heading home to work, now it's the same but in reverse.

Sitting on the green at Westerham behind General Wolfe...

But before we get on to my week at work, which, as I write this, is drawing to a close, let's look briefly at last week's cycling, which totalled 95.9 miles. I rode to Westerham twice, according to my list, although, now that a week of work has almost passed, I can't remember much about it. Two rides to Westerham? Apparently so, on Monday and then last Saturday. In between I threw in a new ride, the Washpond Wurlitzer (basically a Washpond Weeble with a Ledgers Road loop thrown in) and I did a crazy 8.9-mile hoof around the suburbs, taking on all the hills in the local area.  I took Wednesday off.

And so to work, but not in the way you might suspect. Damned if I would contribute to the economy, I decided to bypass train fares by taking the bike to work. As avid readers will know, riding to work (as opposed to riding for leisure) are two completely different things, but I managed to sort it out. There's a great shower in the office, which means I can simply jump on the bike (having remembered to pack a towel and a change of clothes) and then jump in the shower. I left the house around 0630 hours daily and I reached the office around one hour and 10 minutes later. Not bad going. The problem, of course, is not the inwards ride, it's coming back. While the route home is exactly the same as the route back, it's in reverse and that means hills. Big hills. First the hill just beyond the bridge over the motorway on the Warwick Wold Road (or whatever the Warwick Wold Road becomes) and then, after a serene stretch of cycling along Springbottom Lane, I have to tackle the almost unbearable White Hill Lane. The bike slows right down, I slam the gears into ultra low and when I hit the lowest gear I say to myself, 'that's all you've got' and carry on up the hill, huffing and puffing as I go. It's a great relief passing the Harrow pub in Chaldon and then sailing down Stanstead Road, but then another hill presents itself: Tithepit Shaw Lane, a short, sharp, intense hill that is also almost unbearable as White Hill Lane. But it's not worth stopping as there's no way I'd get back on again, so I persevere and reach the top. Once over Tithepit the route is flat and eventually I find myself sailing down Church Way towards home.

Today is Thursday and I've so far managed three days of it - Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. My cumulative total for the week is just over 88 miles and I'm hoping to keep it up, although today I might have to forfeit a ride. I've got a Zoom meeting at 0800hrs and then it's a case of do I ride in or catch the train? I reckon it takes roughly the same time. Anyway, I've been riding 24.5 miles per day for three days in succession and I feel good about it. I've been going to bed around 2100hrs every day too and getting a good eight hours of sleep. I'll admit to feeling a little weary around 1930hrs and falling asleep while watching the TV, but overall it's all good stuff, apart from the fact that I've put on weight. Put on weight!!!! I was hovering around 12 and a half stone, but I'm just short of 13 and I put it down to chocolate bars and cake, which now must stop. There's no point cycling 24 miles a day and putting on weight, that defeats the object.

That said, when I reached the office, one of my colleagues said that muscle was heavier than fat and that must be the reason, but I'm not so sure. When I think about the last six months and all the food I've been eating, like my family size pack of Alpen. So today, when I nipped up to Waitrose to buy, supposedly, a family pack of Alpen, I hesitated and decided not to buy it; instead I bought some own brand muesli (Swiss style). We'll see. At work today I had three small chicken rolls and that was lunch. I must admit it was a relief not having to ride back on the bike, those big hills I mentioned earlier are no joke, so getting on the train was easy and these days there's nobody on them. This morning, on the journey in, I was the only passenger in the carriage and because I'd got a lift to the station the journey was only 30 minutes all in, from door-to-door. As a result, I'm more alive tonight. If this was yesterday I'd be feeling weary and ready for bed, but here I am sitting here writing and watching the television at the same time.

Being back at work has been fine, much needed in a way, a change is as good as a rest and all that. It was good to see people I haven't seen since March and because the office had been configured in such a way as to keep us all apart, it was good not to be crammed in between two colleagues. Space, That's what's good about the office this week. And now there's just one day left. Next week I've got a week at home and then back in to the office the following week. I like both scenarios. I thought I wouldn't enjoy going back in, but I did, especially the cycling. 

A much needed cup of tea...

Oddly, just as things seemed to be getting back to an element of normality, Boris Johnson and his team decided to abolish all meetings of more than six people. That's put the spanner in the works. Anyway, it is what it is and everybody's blaming the younger generation for their 'gatherings' and their refusal to socially distance themselves from other people. Well, to be fair, the Government had been relaxing things. We were all being encouraged to eat out or go to the pub and then we were all told to go back to work to boost the economy, start paying extortionate train fares, part with ridiculous amounts of money for a cup of coffee and pay through the nose for food that isn't really that good. Still, it is what it is, but I was determined not to boost the economy. By cycling in Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I saved the best part of £27 that I would have spent on train fares. Alright, I had a beef and horse radish sandwich was Sainsbury's on all three days, but I have to eat something and I couldn't fit a sandwich box into my rucksack. Well, that was my excuse. 

And now, as I sit here with Celebrity Masterchef on the TV (a kind of 'best of' that I'm half watching) my thoughts go to tomorrow. Having a missed a day of cycling I'm feeling a little daunted about starting up again tomorrow, waking up at 0530hrs and leaving at 0630hrs, but I owe it to myself to ride in, for one last day, because next week it's back to the Washpond Wurlitzer and the Churchyard Chuffer and other rides I've christened with silly names (they're all on Strava).

Cycling to work on a daily basis has been a real eye opener. The fact that it was not too bad (except for the hills) and the fact that it added a bit of zing to each day made it worthwhile. I might well try my best to keep it up, or certainly ride three of the five days. Well, at least until the weather closes in, the clocks go back and it's dark and dangerous on those country lanes. You do have to be careful as there are plenty of nutters driving cars around. There were certain spots where I was ultra-vigilant, the first one was riding down White Hill Lane on the way in and turning right into Springbottom Lane, very dangerous if there's a car behind trying to get in front. The second was the ride down what becomes Warwick Wold Road, just before hurtling across the motorway (the M23 I think). The bike picks up speed, there's a couple of concealed driveways and you just have to keep your wits about you. On the way back, coming up White Hill Lane was a little dodgy, but the rest of the ride is great, apart from Tithepit Shaw Lane, a nasty, albeit short hill. The ride back was a little daunting generally, mainly because of the three punishing hills. But once all three were out of the way I was elated at the thought of a short ride into Sanderstead High Street and then a leisurely roll down Church Way towards home.

Right now the idea of the ride is looming somewhere and I'm starting to wonder whether I should hit the sack now, at 2031hrs, or stay up a little, watch the news and then head for bed. I'm starting to doubt whether I'm motivated enough to do, but I've simply got to get out there and take it on, the last ride of the week, which will bring my total to something crazy like 112 miles for the week.

I'm going to sign off now. Looking forward to meeting Andy again at the Churchyard on Sunday.