The final ride of my week, which runs from Tuesday to Monday, was, if I'm honest, a little depressing and it's hard to put my finger on why. It was the ride that would take my weekly mileage to 100 miles, but because I'd riden to Oxted on Sunday, which is only a 20-mile round trip, as opposed to a 22-miler had I gone to Westerham, I had to figure out a way of adding the extra mileage and thereby stop the very real threat of only having riden 98 miles.
The weather was fine, albeit a little blowy and colder than it has been these past five or six weeks. I left later than usual, some time around 1800hrs, and that, I suppose, was the first bum note of the ride. Normally I hit the tarmac around 5pm and I know I'll be back at just gone 6pm, but this time I could see the candle of time burning down, narrowing down the window of consciousness before the desire to hit the sack.
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| Lots of cereals in the house |
Instead of riding straight along the 269 I decided to turn left at the small roundabout just past Sainsbury's at Warlingham and follow the route Andy and I refer to as 'the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop', except I didn't follow it to the end. I skirted around the narrow lanes, past St Leonard's church, but instead of heading down Hesiers Hill, I followed the road round and into Beech Farm Road, heading towards the 269. There's something about Beech Farm Road or Beech Road or whatever it's called, it's okay, but I was being held back by the wind, the ride was sluggish and I suppose it simply wasn't as enjoyable as usual. It's a long road too.
I found myself getting depressed about my surroundings; there was something weird about the fields with the horses, something derelict that I couldn't quite pin down and something, I suppose, artificial about everything. Perhaps it was being so close to London that rendered the surrounding countryside a little plastic or might it have something to do with a strange noise that followed me along the road, like the noise of a deep and growling furnace being fired up or possibly some huge aircraft sitting on the tarmac at nearby Biggin Hill airport. I started thinking about the Vulcan bomber for some reason, but there was definitely something roaring loudly somewhere across the fields and it stayed within earshot all the way to the 269 where I turned left and headed for Botley Hill. I was strongly tempted to ride the same way back, but convinced myself that the detour I had already taken definitely amounted to two miles, meaning my 100 mile target was in the bag. Besides, there was something about Beech Road that disturbed me or at best depressed me. I had thought about riding back along Beech and turning left into Washpond and then either right or left into Ledgers, but I was wasting my own time thinking about it and in the end decided to race towards Warlingham on the 269.
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| The latest tea to arrive |
I had a tremendous sense of relief when I arrived back home and put the bike in the garage. Tuesday was my day off from riding so I could chill for a day and not think about heading for Botley until Wednesday. A planned four-mile walk fell by the wayside and after dinner I sat and watched the X Files. I'm on season four, but I'm getting a little jaded by it. I can tell this is the case because I must have nodded off during one episode and woke for the start of another. In the end I switched it off and went to bed and now it's Wednesday and I have to head out on the bike sometime around 1700hrs. It's a bit grey out there, but it's dry and that's the main thing.
The ride was good and while everybody was saying it was cold out, it wasn't. I was going to follow Beech Road, but couldn't bring myself to turn left at the roundabout. Instead I headed straight for Botley Hill and rode back to make dinner (spaghetti bolognaise with pasta shells). Since lockdown I've had a candle burning on the table for some reason, it makes things seem a little special. There's also classical music, last night Hadyn. Since lockdown things have become more cultured for some reason. Television is off the agenda, and by that I mean terrestrial television. I don't want to watch Fergus Walsh wallowing in the virus or Huw Edwards, with his Presley snarl, telling us all the bad news and reminding us that we live in a country run by covidiots. I also don't want to see celebrities on Zoom on the
One Show with that awful Alex Jones or
Question Time with the equally awful Fiona 'keep the peasants away from me' Bruce, without a studio audience; and when are the soaps going to run out of recorded programmes? So instead I watch the
X Files on Prime, or I run through what's available on Netflix and realise that, after
Ozark, there's absolutely nothing there worth watching. Roll on 2021 and Season Four!
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| Padron peppers, very nice |
It's now Thursday and the week is drawing to an end. Time is moving fast. We're now in mid-May and it's looking as if the whole year is going to be wasted staying indoors and eating. Every week I buy a sack of Alpen and alternate between porridge and muesli. Just now, for example, I had the latter with blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, grapes and banana - my five-a-day before 0700hrs washed down with a cup of tea and accompanied by a peanut butter sandwich. That will probably see me through to around 1000hrs when the desire to eat one of the hot dog rolls in the bread bin will get the better of me, but at least I'm not eating cake or chocolate at work, although I've had my fair share of Wispa bars.
The Rockhopper really needs a service, or, failing that, its front brake and wheel need looking at. I think the wheel is out of alignment as the front disc seems to be rubbing. I might need front brake pads too, but the bike stores are open only to 'key workers', or they were the last time I checked. Either way, the bike is okay other and I can live with it short-term. The main thing is that the bike is fine and so is the weather, two essential ingredients in my life at the moment.
There was a VE Day street party in our road last weekend. It was good to meet and chat with the neighbours as most of the time we all just go about our business and see nobody, so hats off to the organisers. It wasn't a boozy affair, not for me at any rate, just chatting in the fresh air and sunshine. I found out that Phil has a new addition to his family, perhaps that's what's been keeping away from the ride, who knows? I also learnt that the treasurer for our local literary society lives a couple of doors up from me. The society meets in a local church and I think I'll mosey along to the next meeting, whenever that might be.
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| Scenes from a street party |
So another day dawns, the sun shines, there's classical music on the radio and all is peaceful. A day of work lies ahead of me and then a ride on the bike, it's all getting very samey, but the weekend is almost upon us, there's a lawn to be mowed, shopping to be done and a ride or two to Westerham. Life goes on and I still haven't gotten round to buying and learning how to play that bass guitar, perhaps it's not to be, but for some reason it's something that will always elude me, I don't know, but life is stirring in the house, it's gone seven, there's somebody clanging around in the kitchen, which means my writing time is over until tomorrow. Time to sign off and hit the shower.
