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.
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Friday evening at the Churchyard
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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.
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Temporary lights in Woldingham
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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).
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Phil's Honda CB750, Tatsfield, 19 September
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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.
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Andy's bike at the top of Ditchling Beacon in East Sussex
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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.
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Jerry Garcia, The Grateful Dead...
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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.
