Monday 18 May 2020

Lockdown, Part 22: Men Go and Come, but Earth Abides...

Sunday 17 May 2020: I followed the scenic route to Botley Hill and then rode further, to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. I reckon the distance hovered around 16 miles. While I remarked in a recent post that I found Beech Road, or Beech Farm Road, a little depressing - it's something to do with the field full of furry-legged horses and the trailers visible behind a wooden fence, not to mention the sinister-looking mobile phone masts standing erect across the fields - I've decided it's better than risking my neck on the 269. I think it's also something to do with the faux countryside, the fact that while it all looks very rural, it isn't. Admittedly, the road emerges halfway along the road of craziness (let's not forget the corona cocks in a carrot-coloured Caterham 7), but somehow the more airy section of the 269 feels a little safer (until I hear cars behind me and see cars up ahead). The problem is that drivers behind me won't slow down and wait, they'll try to squeeze past, giving me little in the way of clearance. There is an off-road path, but that means punctures and so far (since lockdown began) I've avoided them. I keep expecting to open the garage door and find a flat rear tyre, the ultimate nightmare in my opinion, it's not only deflating, it's demoralising. I know it would put paid to the ride until I could drum up the enthusiasm to fix it, not always that easy.
Riding along Beech Road heading towards the 269...
Mind you, I've had my fair share of deflation this weekend. One thing I've noticed about cycling daily is that it's given me a lot of energy and positivity. After a good ride I'm ready for most things and I'm kind of up for anything, like making the dinner, something I never seemed to have the energy for when I was commuting to work everyday, I just hoped it was virtually ready or being served when I walked through the door, but not anymore. I've been making the dinner most nights and I'm enjoying every minute. I've even set up my own imaginary restaurant, going by the name of Handel's. Why Handel's? Because prior to every meal served (and during) Handel is playing quietly in the background and it's great. Handel and a candle, well, a tealight, to add some ambience. And we've had some great meals in this exclusive restaurant: Padron peppers with lightly smoked fillet of salmon, a couple of excellent pasta sauces, served, of course, with pasta shells and the list goes on. It's a chilled way of ending each day in an imaginary restaurant with only one table and no need for social distancing.

But I digress. Deflation. That cycling energy got me outside early this morning. I had the mower out and I mowed the front lawn twice, it looks great, then I moved on to the back lawn, which is much bigger. I was motoring along and soon had the mower ready to rock. Well, things started off well and I think I managed five lengths of the lower lawn before the mower conked out, no power, nothing. And no, it wasn't a fuse, I tried that. It was a loose connection and it wasn't something I could fix so it's looking like a new mower is needed. To be fair, we need one. Last April we forked out a few quid on repairing our Hayter Envoy 36, but now it's getting like a secondhand car, when you have to stop spending on it and buy a new one. I can't remember what was wrong with it last time, but it was fixable and cheaper than buying a new mower. Now, perhaps it's a different story. I was up for just going to B&Q and getting a new one, but getting one delivered would be better, so we're leaving it until tomorrow, or some time next week, to assess our options.

At the Tatsfield Bus Stop on Saturday, early evening.
The lawn looks as if it's had a radical haircut, it's half cut, half uncut, and I'll admit the whole thing deflated me, having been so full of beans when I first set foot in the garden. "You mustn't despair." That's what dad used to say and he had a point, but sometimes I reckon a bit of despair does you good. Well, perhaps not. I'm over it now, but it demotivated me so much that I almost didn't hit the road on the bike. I did eventually, bringing my weekly total so far to 74 miles. After Monday's ride it'll be in the region of 88 to 90 miles and I'm currently debating whether to aim for 100 miles every week or just ensure that I get out there and do a minimum of 10 miles per day, or perhaps always ride 15 miles daily, rather than stick religiously to 100 miles. I always get bogged down with dilemmas.

The problem with lockdown, of course, is that when something goes wrong, it stays wrong as there's nobody to fix it. My bike needs servicing, the front wheel isn't aligned properly, the front brake pads need replacing, there's a bike in the garage that could do with a new saddle, but there's nobody to fix it on; the fact is I'm going to have to step up, learn how to do these things myself. I'm fine with punctures and taking wheels off, but I've yet to master replacing hydraulic brake pads or fixing saddles, but fortunately there's YouTube and plenty of willing online lecturers.

I wonder how many people are letting things go to rack and ruin? There are plenty of folk, for example, who can't fix a straightforward puncture, so I'm guessing there are many bikes in garages around the country doing nothing. If my car broke down I'd have to leave it by the roadside or wherever it conks out until there's somebody capable of repairing it. I'm going to have to learn new skills. It's a bit like the novel Earth Abides by George R Stewart (worth reading if you're interested) about a post apocalyptic world where people simply have to get on with life after a mystery disease, dare I say virus, has wiped out millions of people and everything has basically ceased to be: roads eventually get clogged up with weeds, bridges collapse, the power system fails, hospitals are no more, and people (survivors) live in little communities. It's a weird and frightening book and one I might read again and there are echoes of it in the lockdown. Doctors can't be seen in person, bikes can't be fixed, lawn mowers remain stationary on the lawn, slowly the world we know and love changes and we all have to find our own way. I feel sorry for university students, especially those who have just completed year one and were looking forward to university life, but now have to rely upon video conferencing, at least for the time being, it's a big shame for those people and I know some of them.

Fortunately, I suppose, corona virus isn't that dangerous. Sure, it's a killer, but it's not like the disease in Earth Abides. We'll have to wait for the real humdinger - that's probably being designed as I write this - and I'm hoping that those supposedly in charge of the world (Oh My God! It's Trump and Johnson) get together and stop whatever (or whoever) might have caused this.