(No) Visible Lycra...

Perhaps I should be changing the name of the blog, getting rid of that word 'No' and admitting that, for the past month, possibly longer, I've been wearing Lycra in the open air, in the broad daylight. You could even call me a Lycra Monkey, let's face it, and it all started, of course, when I bought a pair of Lycra cycling shorts, admittedly many months ago. Alright, the premise is simple: No Visible Lycra. That means I wear the stuff (to protect certain parts of my anatomy) but it's not visible to the human eye. Fine. Except that recently it's been very visible as I have decided not to wear the trousers that normally cover the offending item of clothing. Why has this happened? Well, the summer for a start. There's nothing worse than wearing heavy cargo trousers with loads of pockets over a pair of Lycra cycling shorts in the heat of the day. In fact, that's really the only reason if I'm honest. So, off with anything covering the shorts and suddenly I'm a Lycra monkey. It feels much better and if it rains I don't seem to get that wet because the rain isn't absorbed into the material as it is with the cargo trousers, which, incidentally, are now spattered in white paint from a fairly recent bout of decorating. Look, it's freer, it's lighter, it's better, but it does make me wonder about the title of my blog, which, of course, I won't be changing.

Westerham, outside Tudor Rose in the sunshine on 17 July

This post is a little late as we're nearing the end of this week's cycling and I've yet to put pen to paper on last week's, which was good, although not as good as this week. It's Friday 23 July as I write this and I've been riding daily for well over a week so I should be putting in over 100 miles this week, although that phrase 'well over' is probably an exaggeration. But let's look at last week's rides first. In a nutshell, I've got to ride three Washpond Weebles to make a decent week of riding and that's what I did: three Weebles and one 'Weeble and more' which was rather odd; I saw a sign for the Sustrans Route 21 (avid readers will remember how I took Route 21 from Redhill to Warlingham and ended up riding an off-road hell of sorts). Well, I assumed that the stretch of this route I was about to embark upon was the continuation from the bit from Redhill and sure enough it was. Route 21 ultimately ends up in Greenwich, but I wasn't going that far, although I thought I'd see where it went and follow it for a short while. It was mud and puddles all the way and, much to my disappointment, the road veered right and I ended up on Scotshall, a country lane that took me back on the original Weeble route, upping my mileage by just half a mile. In other words it was a complete waste of time. The weather throughout last week's rides was good: sunny, warm, bright and hot on different days and that makes all the difference as only the previous week there had been cloud and rain. In the end I managed around 84 miles (that's a rough calculation, but a respectable distance nonetheless).

Crumbling cake and not much tea...

This week started with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and a respectable 22.85 miles in the sunshine. In fact, on the sunshine front, I have a pleasant sun tan on my legs and arms as a result. We sat outside the Costa, which I think offers far better value for money than the Tudor Rose cafe. Last Saturday (17 July) was the final day of my cycling week and I rode to Westerham via Beddlestead and through Woldingham. I decided to have tea in the Tudor Rose and ordered a slice of coffee and walnut cake. When the order arrived I won't deny it, I was disappointed. For a start, the cake was falling apart (I've experienced this before at the Tudor Rose) and the 'large tea' was not even a decent-sized mug. To make matters worse it cost me £6. At Costa I can get a large tea (and I mean a large tea in a huge paper carton with two tea bags) plus a cinnamon brioche bun for something like £4.28. I told Andy that the Costa provided better value for money and then continued to stuff my face.

On the cake front (and it has to be mentioned) last week I did rather overdo things, and not just cakes. Off the top of my head I think I enjoyed the following: a white chocolate Twix, a Wispa bar, a Twirl, a cappuccino mousse from Waitrose, possibly two of them, the aforementioned coffee and walnut cake and a couple of Millionaires shortbreads, something like that; so this week I put on the brakes. I've riden every day of the week and I've not touched a cake or a chocolate bar and let's get it on record that I have riden daily since 15 July, it's now 23 July and I will be going out today too, possibly this afternoon.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane...

This week, to date I've mainly stuck to the Weebles, but on Wednesday I did a straight ride to Botley Hill on the 269 around 1000hrs when the road seemed relatively quiet, although I did get one 'use the cycle lane!' from a Boris Johnson supporter and of course ignored him. That ride clocked up 13.42 miles but I won't do it again. Yesterday I was intending to do another Weeble but the road was closed, causing me to ride down Hesiers, up Beddlestead Lane, head west on Clarks Lane and then ride The Ridge into Woldingham and up Slines Oak Road (17.42 miles). So far this week I've riden 72.43 miles and I've got two rides to go, meaning that if I ride a Weeble today (12.30 miles or thereabouts) plus, say, a Westerham ride tomorrow, then my total will top 100 miles.

Vineyards along Pilgrims Lane...

All week it's been hot, very hot, often too hot to ride a bike, but the shade of the trees, the fragrant hedgerows and the warm breeze has made it all very pleasant and there's still two days of this week's cycling to go so I'm not complaining.

Fields on Beddlestead Lane...

Today I'm planning a Washpond Weeble, but being as the road is closed, meaning access to Washpond Lane is impossible, I'll have to ride down Hesiers Hill and repeat yesterday's ride, which isn't a hardship. In fact, it's greater mileage so it all adds to the final total, which I won't know until I've completed tomorrow's ride either to Westerham - where there's the temptation of cake - or to the Lakes where I'll need a flask of hot water, a mug and a couple of tea bags, although, if the latter, I'm going to have to leave the house earlier, possibly even at the old time of 0700hrs. I haven't left the house that early for some time.

Another scene from Beddlestead Lane earlier this week...

Friday afternoon, around 1630hrs, I headed out not really knowing where I was going. The rough plan was to ride the Washpond Weeble, but only if Beech Farm Road was no longer closed. The alternative was doing a Ledger's Loop, which I reckoned would be around 10 miles, but it might be less and knowing Strava I'd be disappointed to discover that, lo and behold, it was only, say, 9.34 miles (or something of that order). But still, I thought I'd go for it: I'd follow the route of the Weeble, but branch right on to Ledgers Road and then ride back along the 269 and home. As I rode along Ledgers I figured that if the road was still closed surely there would be a 'Road Closed' sign at the bottom of Washpond Lane, but there wasn't so I embarked upon a Reverse Weeble and sure enough the signs had been removed from Beech Farm Road, all was well and as of now, Saturday morning at 0834hrs, I've riden something like 85 miles with one ride left to go and that's now, any second now. But it's dark outside, rain is threatened and it looks like a November morning. The temperature is roughly 19 degrees so it's not that bad. I've got to get out there, I know that much, and I've only got around 30 minutes of slobbing around before I need to commit. It looks as if I'll go over 100 miles this week.

The Rockhopper on Beddlestead Lane...

And I did go over 100 miles, riding a record 110 miles thanks to a ride to Westerham. Yes, it was initially dull and grey and there was a persistent drizzle, but I persevered and by the time I was on Beddlestead Lane I was feeling good, thanks again to the fragrant hedgerows and the ferns lining each side of the road. I don't think I've ever seen ferns so tall. This is what I love about the summer months, the fact that nature is cascading everywhere, enclosing the country lanes and transforming them into peaceful havens of tranquility, almost another world shut off from the cacophony of modern life. All I could hear as I pedalled towards Clarks Lane and my left turn towards Westerham, was the chirping of birds and the rustle of other wildlife in the undergrowth, I didn't even see any other cyclists (along Beddlestead Lane).

Tea at the Tudor Rose

I rode along Pilgrims Lane, past the vineyards and the Velobarn (which was deserted) and into Westerham. To my dismay, Costa was closed so I was forced to visit the Tudor Rose. I didn't have any cake, they were looking a bit tired, and I suspect that the crumbly-looking coffee and walnut cake was the same one I ordered last week. A mug of tea sufficed. 

The ride home was fine. I retraced my inward ride but then followed The Ridge into Woldingham and home, cycling up the steep bit of Slines Oak Road with relative ease and then sailing along the Limpsfield Road towards home. The new cycling week starts tomorrow with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy... and if Costa's closed we'll need to find somewhere else for tea and possibly cake too, although the week without cake and sweets has done me some good and I'm not sure I fancy stuffing my face, I might just leave it.

Costa still closed, but the cake was fresh, not crumbly

Just a brief word about the Tudor Rose Tea Rooms' cakes: today they were fine and they looked recently replenished. Yesterday (Saturday) they were looking a bit tired and there was just one slice of coffee and walnut cake left, but today there was a whole cake so I ordered some and as you can see from the image above, it's not crumbly, it's perfect, although it still cost me just under £6.00 and I was forced to have a small pot of tea rather than a much more satisfactory paper cup. The photo above was taken this morning in a crowded restaurant. Fortunately, I managed to find a small table at the back and had to move my bike so that I could see it from where I was sitting. The service was a bit rubbish, I ordered a tea and a slice of coffee and walnut cake and heard the waitress make the mistake and then over-charge me: "So that's one tea, a slice of walnut cake and a coffee, that'll be £8.60." No, I said, that can't be right and she apologised but then, later, she took my order to the wrong table. The boss woman wasn't there so I'm guessing that was why things were a little off-kilter. I wish Costa would re-open, which is odd coming from me, somebody who likes the support the indie operators, but I'm afraid the Costa offers far better value for money, they're clearly not checking out their competition.

Hot, sunny days create shadows and here's mine!

... and I did get out there! I rode to Westerham and there was no rain!

My last post was pretty depressing if the truth be known. I'd woken up and not really given any thought to riding the bike until I saw raindrops hitting the birdbath and that made me feel a little down. I almost resigned myself to not riding today (see previous post) but then things started to brighten a little and while there were spits of rain when I eventually plucked up the courage to get out there, the weather was fairly pleasant. It was warm for a start, which always helps, and while I did feel the odd drop of rain occasionally, the ride was perfect. 

Inside Costa Saturday morning

Having not riden since last Sunday I felt uncharacteristically energetic as I bombed along Ellenbridge in preparation for the climb of Church Way and when I reached the top I sailed through the churchyard, along a short stretch of Onslow Gardens and then right into Blenheim. A right turn and then a left and I was on the Limpsfield Road heading for Warlingham Green and then onwards towards the roundabout at Chelsham, just past Sainsbury's. From there I followed the country lanes which wound their way towards St. Leonards church and then I took the plunge and headed down Hesiers Hill towards Beddlestead where the ferns cascaded on to the road and where the occasional Lycra monkey whirred past me.

I take Beddlestead in my stride these days, but it's still fairly long and the whole thing is a hill. But soon it was over and I turned left on to Clarks Lane and rode downhill into Westerham. I noted that Pilgrims Lane was closed so I had to follow the traditional route into town and when I got there it was its usual self: lots of people milling around, queuing for a Costa, sitting on the green or looking in shop windows.

I know I was moaning about my diet in the last post, but that didn't stop me weakening and ordering an English Breakfast tea with a cinnamon brioche bun. I sat indoors, keeping a weather eye on the bike that rested outside and enjoyed my tea and bun. I could have sat there all day if the truth be known, but I knew I'd have to be getting back. There weren't that many people there: straight ahead of me two men were chatting. I think they were old pals catching up. To my right at roughly one o'clock was a couple, a man and a woman, who didn't seem to have much to say to each other. The woman had long blonde hair and the man a kind of grey/black Brillo pad. There were two young girls sitting at roughly ten o'clock and at nine o'clock a couple with a toddler who ordered some kind of breakfast bap each along with a drink. To my right, or at roughly three o'clock, a solitary man and that was it apart from those queuing.

Tea and a cinnamon brioche bun...

In the end I plucked up the courage to leave and found myself riding out of Westerham following the same road I came in on. The hill was fine and soon I reached the roundabout close to Botley Hill and had to debate whether or not to follow The Ridge into Woldingham. I decided to risk the 269 instead and soon I was in Sanderstead High Street and then back in Blenheim, Church Way, Ellenbridge and home. 

It never rained. Alright, there was the odd spit, but nothing more and now I'm home and penning this unusual second post in one day. Total mileage today was 22.21 miles, add that to the 12.32 and you get my weekly total of 34.53 miles. Not brilliant, but I'll improve on that next week.

On Sunday the weather improved considerably and I rode to Westerham again to meet Andy who was back from his holiday in Cornwall. We chatted again about Andy's 'dawn to dusk' plan and I started to warm to the idea myself. Once again, I decided not to ride home via The Ridge and instead risked the 269. I was home around 1100hrs and then got cracking on mowing the lawn. The weather was fantastic yesterday and the only disappointment was England losing in the Euro 2020 final on penalties. We scored first, making it 1-0, the Italians equalised and then there was extra time followed by the penalties and of course we lost, we always do. Better luck next time, England.

Not a single ride...apart from last Sunday

Saturday morning and I was awake around 0400hrs, probably about 10 minutes earlier. I wanted to get out of bed, but I knew it would be a bad idea so I lay there and eventually fell asleep, waking at gone 0700hrs. I fell asleep again and awoke around 0800hrs, switched on LBC and then got up. To be honest, I hadn't spared a thought for the weather. I made breakfast and switched on the lap top, perused the BBC website and wasn't even thinking about cycling, even if a ride was lurking in the back of my mind. I always ride on a Saturday, it's the last day of my cycling week. But clearly not today. Still not really thinking about the weather I went upstairs and changed and then, when I found myself in the kitchen, I noticed the raindrops in the birdbath. I was just about to go and there they were, so I checked out the weather app on the iphone and sure enough it's going to rain all day, or almost, although there's a chance right now of getting out there and if I can, I will.

Lunch in a local caff yesterday...

It's been a bad week for riding the bike. I was working Monday to Wednesday, which put a ride out of the question, and the rain also stopped my riding in, so I was down to just two days, Thursday and Friday, but for some reason the momentum was lost and when I checked back to what I did last Sunday I was disheartened to note that I only rode 12.5 miles. Suddenly it dawned on me yesterday that my weekly mileage was going to be piss poor and that made it even worse. I resigned myself to not being proud of my weekly total.

What I must do is stop eating rubbish. This week: two Wispa bars, a Twirl, a chocolate mousse and an almond croissant. This is not new. Since lockdown I've been comfort eating. Big breakfasts, peanut butter, marmalade, boiled egg and fingers, bowl of Alpen and my general food intake isn't good either. Last night a cream cheese sandwich and it really has to stop. But it's harder than you think to stop eating crap, but I'm going to give it a go. Even a few minutes ago, however, I was looking forward to reaching Westerham and enjoying another cinnamon brioche bun with my English breakfast tea, and I've just remembered that during the week, after work, I sat in Redhill Costa munching a Millionaires Shortbread with my tea. It. Has. To. Stop.

So, the bike's in the garage, I'm in the house, it's raining and all there is to look forward to is England's drubbing in tomorrow's Euros. Well, alright, I want them to win and they could, of course, but it's Italy they're up against so I'm not going to get worked up about it, best to say they'll lose and then whatever happens will be alright. I was a bit suspicious about the Denmark game, purely because that second goal was a Denmark own goal, Kane missed the penalty, only scoring on the rebound, and the decision to award a penalty? Well, who knows? Everybody's going on far too much about the final. Just because England is generally rubbish in the football department, we're all thinking "it's coming home". Well, the only thing that is definitely coming home is the team. Why? Because the game takes place in Wembley so they're already home. It is probably going  to Rome, so I'm not going to get upset, but I will be watching the game.

This was good!

There's also Wimbledon finals this weekend, but as I've said before, the tennis is boring, there's no major 'rock star' players like Borg or McEnroe, everything has it's golden age and for both footy and tennis, they're over. God! I'm sounding as if I'm on a big downer, perhaps I am, it's hard to tell these days.

It's looking brighter out there and I might make a dash for it even if I know I'll get a soaking in the process. It's 1003hrs and it's make or break. I'll probably get to the top of Church Way and it'll start pouring down. What's worse, though? Staying in and resigning myself to a slobby day or getting out there and at least giving it a go? Probably the former, but I'm feeling fat and slobby as it is so I'd better get out there.

Hardy's Return of the Native...oh how I wish I hadn't bothered!

Over the past couple days I've been riding along country lanes taking in the wonderful smells and aromas of the summertime, the scent of the hedgerows and, of course, that lovely warm breeze you get on days like today and yesterday. As I rode around the lanes that led to St. Leonard's church in Chelsham I thought about a lottery ticket I had bought during the week, it was one that, should I win, I would get £10,000 per month for the next 30 years. Can you imagine that for one moment, £120,000 per annum, tax-free, for the next 30 years. That's a lot of money and a lot of time. And as I rode the lanes I imagined having won such a prize and how amazing it would be to be cycling through the summer knowing that I didn't have to work anymore, I could spend my days riding the bike, going to the beach, strolling around, wild swimming in the sea and so forth. Hell, I might even buy myself a place close to the coast so that I could enjoy the freshness of the sea and the sea air whenever the fancy took me.

Chilling at Costa in Westerham, Kent today...

But of course I haven't won such an amazing prize and why the hell should I? There are millions of people more deserving than I am. Perhaps I'll have to write that definitive 21st Century novel and then I'll be able to take life a little easier, buy myself one of those Henley garden offices and spend the rest of my days chilling and riding and writing and skimming stones into the sea. I haven't been to the south coast in a while and I really should be getting down there now that the weather's good. I'm still a little taken by Andy's 'dawn to dusk' idea and wouldn't mind trying it myself, although, as I probably said in a recent post, possibly the last one, I doubt I'd be able to ride the 250 miles to Cornwall before the sun went down, but who knows? Perhaps I'd surprise myself. Andy said that there would be downhill stretches that would speed things up somewhat and, of course, he's right. While I tend to average around 10 miles/hour there are times, when I reach a downward stretch, that the bike picks up incredible speed. But I reckon I'd be able to ride around 150 miles before the sun set in the west, possibly 200 if I was really lucky, but I'd settle for 150. I think I'd head for the coast and then, on reaching the front, head west towards Dorset, I might manage to reach Wareham before I sought out a campsite or, if I was really organised, the B&B I'd booked for myself prior to departure, having worked out exactly where I'd stop (or where I would likely end up) as the sun disappeared on the horizon and it was time for me to get some kip.

My sleeping rough 'fantasy' or 'dream' or whatever it is, still hangs over me occasionally. The other day I was on Amazon looking up bivvy bags, which are kind of elaborate sleeping bags. I found one that was basically a small tent, the sort of thing you could set up in minutes and then cover with camouflage so that nobody can spot you from a distance (I'm thinking angry farmers who wouldn't entertain the idea of me sleeping in one of their fields. That said, sleeping in random fields could be dangerous. What if a herd of horned bulls mosey on over during the night while I sleep, although I don't think I'll be getting much sleep, not on my first few nights under canvas. That whole 'dawn to dusk' business could easily involve the bivvy tent as it would be easy to carry, simple to erect and ideal for one person trying to keep a low profile. One day I might have a crack at cycling to the beach, I haven't done it for a long time and I'd love to do it; riding to Felpham is about 60 miles, which, these days, bearing in mind my increased fitness levels, I wouldn't have a problem with. I reckon I could easily do such mileage and would enjoy every minute, just as long as the weather was on my side, which it could be, you just never know with the British weather.

Summer in full swing on Beddlestead Lane today...

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I made a big mistake recently when I purchased a copy of Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native, I book I read ages ago and I rather enjoyed it; there's something about Diggory Venn, the reddleman, and Egdon Heath, which appealed to me, or so I thought when I bought it. But now I'm struggling and I wish there was such a thing as an amnesty on unread novels, like there is for knives. We could all trampse on down to our local police stations and hand in the books that failed to keep our attention, and I'd certainly be taking Hardy's tragic novel with me, although, in all honesty I don't really find it that 'tragic'. The character of Clym Yeobright, to me, is basically pathetic, he's come back from Paris where he seemed to be 'doing alright' and found himself getting married to one Eustacia Vye, Egdon Heath's femme fatale I suppose. But she fell in love with Clym because of what he was, not because of what he intends to become, and it all starts to go wrong. As I read it (I'm still struggling) Clym has damaged his eyes because he's been studying hard in bad light and as a result has taken a job as a furze cutter on the heath, much to the dismay of his wife who thinks he's capable of much better things. She wants to head to Paris with him, but he's fed up with the French capital and never intends to return and now she's going off of him. In my mind Clym is basically an idiot; he had a good job, he should have stayed in Paris or, failing that he should have returned to Paris with Eustacia, but no, he doesn't do that. I always feel as if I should shout at him to pull himself together and not throw his life away on the heath, but he wouldn't listen. His mother, Mrs Yeobright, is despairing with him too. Not only does she not like his new wife, but can't believe that he would throw away the opportunities presented to him by Paris and whatever it was he was doing there (I'm sure this is explained, but I can't remember). As I said earlier, I've read the book before and for some reason thought that the haunting quality of the heath and the strangeness of the reddleman would make the book appealing, but in all honesty I want to finish it and then crack on with something a little more exciting, like a cycling adventure book, of which there are many online at present; but because there is no amnesty on unread novels I'll have to wait until I've finished Return of the Native as I hate buying a book and then not finishing it; then it's all down to what \i read next. I could make a rod for my own back and read Saul Bellow's More Die of Heartbreak, which might be a decent book, I don't know, but it could be another Return of the Native scenario. What I need is to be sitting in a coffee shop somewhere, possibly the Costa down in Westerham. I could ride there, order tea and cake and then try and get through a couple of chapters of Hardy's classic novel. I'm not doing too badly. I'm on Chapter Three of 'Book Fourth', The Closed Door so I'm not a million miles from ordering something else online, like Nelson Algren's A Walk on the Wild Side, yes, the book that inspired Lou Reed's classic song of the same name. I'm tempted to read The Plague by Albert Camus or even something by Jean Paul Sartre, but I'm not sure, perhaps something lighter. like the aforementioned cycling adventure, would be better. But right now my only problem is finishing Return of the Native. It's Friday evening, it's very warm outside and the sun is still shining as the time approaches 1830hrs, so it's likely that I might fight my way through another chapter, taking me closer to the finish line.

The Lunchtime Weeble...

It's been a good week on the cycling front. It started last Sunday with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and then, having riden for five consecutive days, I decided to take Monday and Tuesday off. On Wednesday a Washpond Weeble and then, on Thursday and Friday, two Lunchtime Weebles, which was by far the way to go. I used to dread the moment I finished work knowing I had to pluck up the enthusiasm to jump on the bike and ride out into the sticks. It's the last thing I want to do after a day of working. Lunchtime rides are far easier. I'm more awake for a start, there's less traffic (normally I have to cope with rush hour drivers) and I feel energised on my return to complete my week at work. In total this week I rode over 84 miles, an improvement on last week and I'm feeling good about it.

It's Saturday afternoon, 1317hrs to be precise, and the sun has just come out. Earlier, around 0900hrs, I rode to Westerham and it was cloudy with a mild breeze. I had the feeling it would rain at any minute and it did when I was sitting outside of Costa Coffee drinking tea and enjoying another cinnamon brioche bun, yes, another one. The rain lasted all of a few seconds and then stopped and held off all the way home until I reached the Sanderstead area. I had riden the slow way (along Beddlestead Lane) and then turned left and headed down Clarks Lane, following the road down the hill and round the bend, bearing right, not even turning left as I usually do and riding along Pilgrims Lane. I sat outside with my tea and bun and just took in my surroundings, people watching. A man tried to get a bright red armchair into the back of his estate car and he managed it before heading off to his home in nearby Chiddingstone, which, he said, was 15 minutes' drive away. There was a man with a nasty-looking dog, a few old people floating around and a handful of people on the green. The sun made brief appearances. I rode back along the road towards the Velo Barn and then hung a left into Pilgrims Lane where I found a Lycra monkey struggling to get out of the wrong gear. I should have quipped that being in the wrong gear was the story of my life, but I simply couldn't be bothered. I continued along Pilgrims Lane, emerging at the foot of the hill and started the climb that wouldn't end until I reached the Botley Hill roundabout. I turned left on to The Ridge and rode into Woldingham, down Slines Oak Road and then up the steep bit at the end. When I reached the 269 it was raining, but it wasn't cold so I pushed on regardless, passing Flavours, my new favourite caff in Warlingham, and then along the Limpsfield Road towards Sanderstead. I sailed down Church Way in the rain and put in a good 24.55 miles, giving me that magical 84-mile weekly total, well, just over 84 miles.