It's all very well sitting around under lockdown and wishing Bill Gates had been running things, but he wasn't and he isn't, he just so happens to be very clever, but nobody was listening, until it was too late. But it wasn't just Bill Gates, there was a female professor whose name escapes me, she too has been on television, old footage from a lecture given in 2015, explaining how the big threat was no longer nuclear war, but a virus coming from China. They both got it right, but nobody listened and that's when you realise that world governments, not just the UK's, consist of idiots; and then, of course, you just have to look at them to have your aroused suspicions legitimised: Boris Johnson, Michael Gove, Matt Hancock and the rest of them, and that's just in the UK, what about all the other nutters around the world, there's plenty off them and you can imagine them all dismissing Gates as a loony and getting on with the business of making life difficult for the poor and being general bastards.
Still, as my mum used to say, you can't cry over spilt milk. No we can't, we've just got to grin and bear the mess our 'leaders' have made and hope that when it's all over they start making amends by ensuring we have the wherewithal next time to get it right and save us all from what we're going through now: Lockdown.
Yesterday I rode 14 miles to Botley Hill in the sunshine. It was tee-shirt weather, which is rare for this time of year. In fact, the annoying thing about all this is that normally the Easter holidays are rained off and, ironically, everybody's stuck at home watching shit on the television or visiting the relatives - or both! Then we all scoot back to work and look forward to a short week before the next weekend when the weather turns to shit again. Well, under lockdown, of course, things are different. For a start it's blazing sunshine, great for people like me with my own park, but not so good for those stuck en masse in a tiny room in the sweltering heat. I think if I was in that position I'd somehow get hold of a small tent and self-isolate in the woods.
But I digress and I bet you're all wondering about the cocks in a carrot-coloured Caterham 7. The exist, believe me, and I wish I'd taken a photograph of them or, better still, if I had one of those handlebar-mounted video cameras, because then I could have shopped them to the police and hoped they got prosecuted in some way.
During lockdown it's important to be aware of any nutters on the road. The prospect of there being hardly any traffic on the roads means that the nutters can open up the throttle a little bit and that's exactly what they do. Up until reaching the 269, all had been fine. The Limpsfield Road carried little in the way of traffic, there were a few people milling around at the Green and then I headed off into the sticks, debating in my head whether or not to use the off-road path. But the off-road path meant one thing: punctures. I didn't want to be by the roadside, bike upside down, fixing a puncture, so I stuck with the tarmac. And then, of course, I heard it. The sound of a sporty car building up speed behind me. I kept on, keeping the wheels straight, keeping left as far as I could without ending up on the off-road path and hoping that whoever, whatever, it was it wouldn't pass too close. It was building up a lot of speed and suddenly, whooosh! It passed me. A carrot-coloured Caterham 7 with two cocks, sitting there, as bold as brass, going nowhere in particular, although I didn't know that as I continued along the 269 heading in the direction of Botley Hill. The weather was beautiful and when the 269 opened out into fields on either side I was overjoyed, but then I heard a distant buzzing that grew louder and louder and then I saw it, the carrot-coloured Caterham 7 with it's two cocks onboard. They were now racing in the other direction, high speed and coming at me. Of course I ignored them. You know me, I have a rule. If ever I see anybody in a flash motor trying to get the attention of other road users I look at the ground or, if I'm not on a bike, I might even put my mobile phone to my ear, even if I'm not talking to anybody, just to make out that I'm simply not interested. And I wasn't interested in the two cocks sitting aside one another in the carrot-coloured Caterham 7, it's a kit car for heaven's sake. When I reached Botley Hill I went around the roundabout and pulled up at The Ridge. Here I Face-timed Andy for a brief chinwag. I told him about the cocks in the Caterham and we shared expletives, but as soon as I'd put the phone down, I heard the unmistakable sound of the Caterham. It must have been coming along Clarks Lane and would soon hang a right on to the 269. I was stationary at The Ridge when they whooshed past me and I found myself thinking that these two idiots weren't going anywhere specific. They weren't out on a shopping errand, they weren't working, they weren't visiting anybody, and they certainly weren't key workers, unless, of course, they were employed by Timpson's. What then, were they doing other than joy riding? The answer? Nothing. They were breaking the rules for their own enjoyment, putting their lives and others at risk by potentially having to rely upon the emergency services, the paramedics, who are otherwise engaged at present with victims of the virus.
As I rode back down the 269 heading for home I was hoping I'd see the carrot-coloured Caterham, parked up, so I could take a shot of the licence plate, but no such luck.
It was a great ride in great weather and it took around one hour and 15 minutes in total to get there and back home. It took me 35 minutes to get there, which ain't bad and now my weekly mileage total stands at 44 miles. By the end of today it will be 58 miles and then tomorrow it will be 72 miles. I'll be upping the ante for next week.
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| This IS NOT the exact car I reference in the text, it is a library picture. |
Yesterday I rode 14 miles to Botley Hill in the sunshine. It was tee-shirt weather, which is rare for this time of year. In fact, the annoying thing about all this is that normally the Easter holidays are rained off and, ironically, everybody's stuck at home watching shit on the television or visiting the relatives - or both! Then we all scoot back to work and look forward to a short week before the next weekend when the weather turns to shit again. Well, under lockdown, of course, things are different. For a start it's blazing sunshine, great for people like me with my own park, but not so good for those stuck en masse in a tiny room in the sweltering heat. I think if I was in that position I'd somehow get hold of a small tent and self-isolate in the woods.
But I digress and I bet you're all wondering about the cocks in a carrot-coloured Caterham 7. The exist, believe me, and I wish I'd taken a photograph of them or, better still, if I had one of those handlebar-mounted video cameras, because then I could have shopped them to the police and hoped they got prosecuted in some way.
During lockdown it's important to be aware of any nutters on the road. The prospect of there being hardly any traffic on the roads means that the nutters can open up the throttle a little bit and that's exactly what they do. Up until reaching the 269, all had been fine. The Limpsfield Road carried little in the way of traffic, there were a few people milling around at the Green and then I headed off into the sticks, debating in my head whether or not to use the off-road path. But the off-road path meant one thing: punctures. I didn't want to be by the roadside, bike upside down, fixing a puncture, so I stuck with the tarmac. And then, of course, I heard it. The sound of a sporty car building up speed behind me. I kept on, keeping the wheels straight, keeping left as far as I could without ending up on the off-road path and hoping that whoever, whatever, it was it wouldn't pass too close. It was building up a lot of speed and suddenly, whooosh! It passed me. A carrot-coloured Caterham 7 with two cocks, sitting there, as bold as brass, going nowhere in particular, although I didn't know that as I continued along the 269 heading in the direction of Botley Hill. The weather was beautiful and when the 269 opened out into fields on either side I was overjoyed, but then I heard a distant buzzing that grew louder and louder and then I saw it, the carrot-coloured Caterham 7 with it's two cocks onboard. They were now racing in the other direction, high speed and coming at me. Of course I ignored them. You know me, I have a rule. If ever I see anybody in a flash motor trying to get the attention of other road users I look at the ground or, if I'm not on a bike, I might even put my mobile phone to my ear, even if I'm not talking to anybody, just to make out that I'm simply not interested. And I wasn't interested in the two cocks sitting aside one another in the carrot-coloured Caterham 7, it's a kit car for heaven's sake. When I reached Botley Hill I went around the roundabout and pulled up at The Ridge. Here I Face-timed Andy for a brief chinwag. I told him about the cocks in the Caterham and we shared expletives, but as soon as I'd put the phone down, I heard the unmistakable sound of the Caterham. It must have been coming along Clarks Lane and would soon hang a right on to the 269. I was stationary at The Ridge when they whooshed past me and I found myself thinking that these two idiots weren't going anywhere specific. They weren't out on a shopping errand, they weren't working, they weren't visiting anybody, and they certainly weren't key workers, unless, of course, they were employed by Timpson's. What then, were they doing other than joy riding? The answer? Nothing. They were breaking the rules for their own enjoyment, putting their lives and others at risk by potentially having to rely upon the emergency services, the paramedics, who are otherwise engaged at present with victims of the virus.
As I rode back down the 269 heading for home I was hoping I'd see the carrot-coloured Caterham, parked up, so I could take a shot of the licence plate, but no such luck.
It was a great ride in great weather and it took around one hour and 15 minutes in total to get there and back home. It took me 35 minutes to get there, which ain't bad and now my weekly mileage total stands at 44 miles. By the end of today it will be 58 miles and then tomorrow it will be 72 miles. I'll be upping the ante for next week.
