A moment in time...

There's only one way to describe the way I've been feeling these past few weeks and that is annoyed. People are the problem. I hate people who have something to say, people who want to pry and prod and people who want to control things, interfere where they shouldn't be interfering, you know the sort of thing I'm talking about. And it's everywhere. Busy bodies. And here I am, sitting at the dining table at almost 1830hrs when I should have gone out for a ride. Just a short ride. Thirty five minutes, that's all. But no, I didn't go because suddenly a wave of despair washed over me and I just couldn't face it. I was demotivated all of last week. The very thought of heading out there, heading off and riding the steep hill as soon as I turn left suddenly felt beyond me. It's not, I hasten to add, it's something I need to do quite urgently. It's a case of blowing cobwebs out of my brain and just getting on with stuff, getting on with being the person I kind of was around two to three weeks ago, pre-Covid. Not that I'm blaming the virus. The only thing the virus did was stop me riding for a fortnight. But no more, not for now anyway. All week I had planned to go out for an evening six-miler, but as the day darkened and I started to think about things I started to feel aggrieved along the lines of everything being pointless, never having enough money, the usual stuff. But we're not in dire straits, so it's not that, not really, it's just me and I have to snap out of it. The plan was to ride to Westerham on Saturday. The aim was to sit in the Costa in Westerham with a medium-sized cappuccino, but instead I rode the Washpond Weeble, which was fine. It got me out there, it kick-started my riding and now I feel as if I'm back in the room. It's Sunday now and in 10 minutes I'm off to Westerham to meet Andy and chalk up a 22-miler on Strava.

On Pilgrims Lane, about to turn right on to Rectory Lane... shot taken last week

Yesterday evening I listened to music. Wake Up! by the Boo Radleys might appear to be a happy song, but I don't think it is; there's something strained about it that spells despair, like putting on a brave face. I feel the same way about Good Enough by Dodgy and I'm sure there are others, songs that appear to be inspired by happiness, but are quite the opposite. Perhaps I need a walk. I'd take one if there was a decent coffee shop open (they're the new pubs in my world). I wonder what's worse? Going to the pub for a pint or visiting a coffee shop for a cappuccino and a Millionaire's Shortbread? Something else to fret about. All that caffeine and sugar, can't be good for me. But getting carried away on the beer can prove troublesome, you can end up wandering the streets at three in the morning, talking rubbish to tramps outside the Ritz or spending the night in a police cell trying to get some shut-eye on an uncomfortable bed, and let's not forget the hangover. "I suppose I'd better get myself checked out at the hospital, officer." No, give me a cappuccino and a cake of some description any day, I can always ride off the flab they're creating.

This Charming Man by The Smiths was on my playlist. "I would go out tonight, but I haven't got a stitch to wear." We've all had that dream!

All my low rent friends are dead (they are). "All those dayglo freaks who used to paint their face have joined the human race". Yep, I was listening to Kid Charlemange by Steely Dan. "Clean this mess up or we're all end up in jail, those test tubes and the scales, get them all out of here!"

Cappuccino, my new weakness...

This morning all is quiet, it is Sunday after all, and with the time at 0755hrs there's just five minutes before hitting the fresh air and heading for Westerham. Nothing, however, is that straightforward. Normally it is, but not this morning. First, the call of nature. That delayed me by five minutes. Then, when I finally got things together and hit the road, I stopped as I remembered I would need my debit card if I was going to buy some tea and a bun, although, in the end, I just had the tea. I rode home, found my card and then headed off again. It was a painfully slow ride, but only in my head. There was a headwind all the way to Westerham, which I thought had slowed me down, but it just made the ride seem endless. Even when I was on Clarks Lane the ride seemed to be going on forever. When would I go under the motorway? Had I already been under it? And then it came into sight. And even after the motorway, the rest of the ride dragged until I reached Westerham town centre and parked up outside the Costa. It was 0918hrs, which means the ride took me around one hour and 10 minutes. I thought I was slow because of my lack of exercise, but I was roughly the same as the last two weeks, nothing had been affected, although I admit that the whole thing did seem a little harder than it had been on past rides. The longer you lapse, Andy said, the harder it will be. He was right, but I was feeling in a good place. Yesterday's Weeble had put me in a good frame of mind and now it was Sunday and I found myself in Westerham, in the Costa, talking to Andy. Unlike me, Andy hasn't slowed down. Yesterday he rode a 60-plus miles circular route through Surrey and Kent and now here he was in Westerham looking lithe and fit and wearing a new Le Col waterproof and high viz top. I was dressed in an old, threadbare jumper from M&S, my hooded coat and navy blue chinos, under which I was wearing my cycling shorts. No, I didn't look at all streamlined. Thank God my hair was short otherwise I'd have looked a right mess.

Outside there was a strong wind, which, like last week, managed to knock my bike over. And, like last week, I didn't bother to go outside and pick it up as I figured it would fall down again. After about half an hour Andy prepared to leave. He'd finished his coffee and his teacake, but I was nowhere near finished my tea (I had a large English Breakfast tea). I watched Andy ride off and then sat there, in deep thought about nothing in particular. When my tea was finished I reluctantly rose from the comfort of my chair and headed outside to my awaiting bicycle. I rode off and headed towards the Velo Barn, which was closed, and then turned left on to Pilgrim's Lane, crossing Clarks Lane and continuing along Pilgrim's. I turned right on to Rectory Lane (see photo above) and turned left on to Clarks Lane, following the hill to the very top, close to Botley Hill. While I was tempted to ride home through Woldingham, I decided not to; instead I carried on along the 269 until I reached Warlingham Green, which I circled and then continued on the Limpsfield Road into Sanderstead, keeping my distance from parked cars. When I reached home I chilled for a short while and then took a drive into the Sussex countryside. Unfortunately, when I reached Trading Boundaries (aka 'the elephant shop') I weakened and ordered a Billionaire's Shortbread and a cappuccino, then bought a concrete Bhudda and drove home. 

Fortunately we missed a soaking this morning while on the ride. The rain came later and put paid to a walk I had planned around Sheffield Park, but it didn't matter. Later I drove over to mum's for tea and biscuits (Rich Tea) and now I'm back home awaiting Louis Theroux at 9pm on BBC 2. Outside I could hear the wind and the rain, it hasn't stopped since around lunch time.