Not a brilliant week...

The weather has been strange, schizophrenic almost, insane in a way, and neither here nor there in every sense of the phrase. The temperature drop was the most noticeable thing about it; when I think back to my ride into Biggin Hill last Saturday, when the sun was shining as I climbed Stock Hill en route to the Spitfire cafe, and all was well with the world; it's almost as if I travelled to another planet as the week progressed. 

Last Sunday: a trifle but no bike ride.

Monday through Wednesday I walked my traditional walk from Purley railway station to my house just over two miles away. 'Traditional' is, perhaps, too strong a word, so let's say my regular walk.  After a day at work, however, the walk is a bit of an ordeal and when I reach home I head straight for the kitchen and a sandwich of some sort. Generally speaking, the weather was fine for the walks, there was no rain and it was Thursday when the strangeness started. There was sunshine and a kind of fluffy snow to start with, and then the snow transformed itself into a hailstone and sleet combo accompanied by a wary sun. I remember the grass, freshly cut last week, glowing in the sunlight whilst being pelted by white hailstones and translucent sleet. The temperature dropped, the wind was cold and bitter and I decided to ride the Weeble. In fact, I named the ride on Strava as a 'Windy Weeble'. It was a good ride, but not overly pleasant. Put it this way, I was glad when it was over. It was alright, but even wearing my Parka I still felt the wind blowing through me as I rode along, remembering sundown the previous week when, as I turned right on to Washpond Lane, I spied burning orange skies and silhouetted trees as I embarked upon the return journey that would take me back towards Ledgers Road and ultimately the Limpsfield Road towards the warmth of home.

On Friday the weather seemed a little better. In fact, when I forced myself to get out of the house and on to the bike I decided to ride to Botley Hill along the 269. It was just gone 1700hrs, so the height of rush hour. I expected some abuse and I wasn't disappointed. A motorcyclist slowed to tell me I should be on the cycle lane to my left and then gave me the tosser sign, which I returned with gusto. Then there was a motorist who couldn't be bothered to slow down and wait for safe moment to pass me who was beeped by a motorist coming the other way. I was planning on returning along the same road, but fed up with the angry atmosphere created by impatient motorists I decided to ride through Woldingham on the quieter country lanes, which meant extra mileage. I had to climb the steep bit at the 269 end of Slines Oak Road, which I admit I was a little apprehensive about, but I still had it, the strength that is, and managed to reach the summit without really breaking a sweat. Well, almost.

The Eagle where I ate the trifle on Sunday 

Friday night meant slobbing around watching television. There was a new series of Have I Got News for You, hosted by Clive Myrie. I have to admit, having slagged Myrie off for promoting Mastermind while covering the war in Ukraine from Kyiv, I thought he did rather a good job of hosting the weekly news quiz. The jokes were good too. But I never know when to quit and ended up watching a harrowing movie, Landmine Goes Click, on Prime. I eventually hit the sack at gone midnight and then a late start the following morning prevented my usual Saturday morning ride. Not riding today (Saturday) meant just two rides this week (on Thursday and Friday). I decided not to fret about it; as I've said before, there's no point fretting. But I must ride tomorrow. I think it'll be Westerham for an English breakfast tea, but who knows how I'll feel in the morning. I don't think I'll visit Biggin Hill again as I drove there this afternoon and in all honesty, there's not much there. Right now I'm watching Rick Stein in Bordeaux. He's driving around in a blue 2CV saying how much he loves wine, that it makes him happy. "Nothing is quite as perfect as a great Bordeaux," he says, making me feel a little angry. There's nothing worse than watching a celeb enjoying his holidays, which he's getting for absolutely nothing, courtesy of the BBC and my licence fee money. But I don't wish to give you the wrong impression. I love the BBC's output and I'm happy to pay the licence fee, which I believe is good value for money (check out the other channels and you'll soon know what I'm talking about). Good to see my licence fee money going to good use (or not as the case may be); but in all honesty, I'm quite enjoying sitting here watching Rick eating good food and drinking good wine. I've just cooked chicken with mashed potato, carrots and watercress. 

Friday's Botley ride

It's 2045hrs, Rick Stein is sitting under the shade of a tree eating cote de boeuf and drinking red wine and I'm just sitting here wishing I was him, but I'm not. Time to close the laptop and continue slobbing in front of the television. And now Matt Baker is swanning around making a programme about his parents and his wife and his chilled and wealthy and smug life. I don't like Matt Baker, he's too nice, too sensible, every woman's dream man, perhaps, but I'm hoping he has a darker side that one day will be revealed to the world and all those women swooning over him and wishing all men were as smart and sensible as he, even when they're wearing jeans! I've never been smart and I've never been sensible either ... and I'm proud of the fact!

Sunday morning

There was a frost on the grass when I woke up and it lingered well past 0800hrs. I didn't go out until 0925hrs and must have reached Westerham around 1025hrs, or thereabouts. I bowled into the Costa and ordered a regular cappuccino and then took a seat by the window where I could watch the bike. Not that I needed to as I had padlocked it, but the seat was available so I took advantage. The Illustrious Illustrator called and told me about an altercation with a West Ham supporter who just happened to be his next door neighbour's gardener. We chatted for a while about the incident and then moved on to other stuff and soon, as is always the case, it was time for me to hang up and head home - never a good moment - especially as the weather was amazing, the sun had come out and my seat close to the window was warm. I could have sat there all morning, but as the time crept around to 1130 I needed to get a move on. I followed the road to the Velo Barn (I must pay that place a visit soon) and then did my usual: I turned left into Pilgrims Lane, crossed Clarks Lane, continued on Pilgrim's, turned right on Rectory Lane and then rejoined Clarks Lane and rode towards Botley Hill. Then it was a straight ride along the 269 again, past another irate motorist, this time near Slines Oak Road who seemed indignant about my presence on the road. He beeped his horn and said something abusive, but I couldn't hear because his window was up, but that didn't stop me pulling a stupid face - and I mean a really ridiculous face - and waving at him as I passed, he would have hated that!

Westerham today

I reached home around 1230hrs, had some soup for lunch and then bought a toilet seat. Yes, a toilet seat. Life doesn't get more rock and roll, does it? Then I went round to mum's for tea and fruit cake, a flick through a one-week-old copy of the Mail on Sunday and then I drove home. Now I'm sitting here watching Columbo and an episode starring Donald Pleasance (he's definitely the murderer). I've probably said this before, but I'll say it again: I've met Donald Pleasance, in Bristol, at the opening of a playing field back in the early nineties, it's a great claim to fame, or at least I think so.

Look, I'd better go. I'm glad that this week I managed my Sunday morning ride. Last week I forfeited it, which reduced my weekly mileage. I might have covered around 66 miles, but instead I only rode around 25 miles, but that was also because I didn't ride my usual Saturday ride (thanks to that late night watching Landmine Goes Click). I'm hoping that this week I'll get back to riding around 70 miles, or possibly even 90 if I make it to Redhill during the week and then ride a couple of Weebles next Thursday and Friday. If I then do the Saturday ride I'll be on for the 90, but let's not count chickens, or anything else for that matter.