Saturday's ride to Oxted, Surrey...

 Late October, the trees thinning on top but still full of green leaves. There's a smoky sky overhead but the blue is there, veiled by light and wispy cloud.

Outside there are people, some sitting and chatting, others waiting for buses or making their way to the gym or walking dogs. Stores are opening up and many are already open, and inside the coffee shop, music plays.

Soon departing Oxted and heading home.

It's time to get back on the road and head home. After around half an hour - make it 20 minutes (or at most 25) - I have to contemplate the return trip and the big hill (Titsey Hill) that awaits me about two miles up the road. There's no point delaying it any more, it's just got to be done, it's one of the great things about cycling - have to ride back too.

I unpadlocked the bike then headed down the high street and out of town along Granville Road, turning right and then left and cycling along the winding road towards the hill. The weather was wonderful, not at all cold and no sign of rain as I changed down to the low gears for the uphill jaunt. A group of cyclists overtook me and then turned right on to Pilgrims Lane, one of them wishing me good luck as I began my ascent of Titsey Hill. Then I passed some walkers who commented that I would beat them to the top of the hill. I remarked that it's a tough hill, but not as tough as you might think it is, meaning that it levels out, which it does, shortly after passing White Lane.

It's not long before a road sign appears at the top of the hill and I know that the ordeal is over. I ride towards Botley Hill and then straight down the 269 in the higher gears and soon I find myself in Warlingham. I keep away from parked cars because I know that somebody could open their car door and send me flying and I don't want that. Oddly, as I near Warlingham Green somebody does open his door without looking and it's just lucky that I was in the middle of the road. Having left Oxted around 1006hrs, probably a little later, I reached home around 1110hrs and chilled with a green tea. Ride one of two completed, but I still need to address how I'm going to up my riding from just two rides to four. I'm thinking the only real options are either to simply bite the bullet, have the rucksack prepared and the lights charged and just get up and go OR I sign up for the gym and ride the stationary bike three times per week. Once again I was scuppered last week. The plan was to be three rides (Friday, Saturday and Sunday) but as always happens I get bogged down with crap and end up not going, that's what happened Friday. Today (Saturday) was fine and tomorrow (Sunday) will also be fine. Last week I remember heading out with my cape on, knowingly riding into a storm, but I just had to get out there. Next week I need to ride two mid-weekers, one can be Thursday, the other would have to be Tuesday or Wednesday UNLESS I force myself to ignore everyone and just go on Friday, my day off. So, Thursday and then Friday, then Saturday and Sunday (four rides). The only other alternative plan is to ride the Norfolk Nobbler three times a week (roughly a 35-minute ride) which is easy enough and a good mix of hills and downhills. The last trudge up West Hill is always a killer but rain or shine it'll be over in 35 minutes. Perhaps a mix of the two. If I can get up and ride to work, that's the best option, but with the clocks going back, it'll mean night riding for sure so I'll need to get my lights ready. I really can't stand USB-chargeable lights as, for some reason, they never work, and by that I mean everything I've got that is USB-chargeable never charges fully or goes off suddenly and unexpectedly leaving me thinking, 'but I charged that overnight, what the fuck's wrong with it?' I had one of those video doorbells and despite me charging it overnight it NEVER, EVER was fully charged and sometimes was hardly charged at all. That's gone now. All I want is something powered by proper batteries.

The key thing with all of this is motivation. It's drumming up enough enthusiasm to get out there and ride to work. The cape helps, but there's something annoying it: if I wear it, it conceals the rear light and there's no way around that. I could, of course, buy one of those high-viz waterproof cycling tops, that's the best bet. Let's see what transpires. If it all turns to shit, it'll have to be the gym and the stationary bike.

Oxted, Westerham, rain, a great movie, a DIY chore...

I hope to ride this morning. It's currently 0648hrs and while I'm guessing, I'd say it's still pretty dark outside. Well, perhaps not dark in the true sense of the word, but certainly I'd question whether lights were needed. The riding to work has stopped, but I know there are train strikes coming up and I might make the exception for those days, although I'll need to have lights sorted out. Next week, I think, the clocks go back and that's a terrible moment for me as I hate the winter months with a vengeance as dark nights (what nights aren't dark?) mean it's more dangerous to ride a bike. As I mentioned in my last post, the gym beckons. I'm planning on riding a stationary bike during the dark months and then resuming riding to work twice a week once the clocks go forward in March, we'll see how things go.

So here we are, 22 October 2022 and I'm nearly five years into my abstinence from boozing (I gave up on 28 October 2017). I'm absolutely fine with it; I've never ever felt the need for a drink and generally speaking I feel better in myself for not drinking. I plan to keep going even if not drinking means I lose friends. It's true. Some people only want you around if you're drinking, either because they like it when you mess up, make a fool of yourself or worse OR they just want a drinking partner. I've suggested meeting friends (or a friend) in a coffee shop and they refused, stating in not so many words that it was the pub or nothing: 'you can have a lemonade if you want'. So we didn't meet and probably never will. People don't like it when they discover I've given up the booze, they see it as some kind of affront towards them and their way of life, perhaps they think I'm judging them (I'm not) but either way not drinking puts certain types of people on a back foot, they think I'm a threat, perhaps that's it. Anyway, I don't care. I prefer not to drink, I prefer not to have a hangover or make a fool of myself or end up in a police cell.

Red sky on Saturday morning...

I'm hoping it won't rain. Today is Saturday 22nd October and it's my ride to Oxted. I'm planning on taking a book with me so I can read for half an hour, hopefully on the leather sofa in Caffe Nero, and then I'll ride home again.

I still haven't cleaned my chain. I keep meaning to but I never get round to it; perhaps later today.

In an ideal world I'd ride four times a week. Currently I'm back on twice a week, but even one extra ride would help things along, although I need to sort out my lights for sure. In a nutshell I need to get my act together.

Arundel Castle

Yesterday (Friday) I took the day off and we went to Arundel Castle. Unbelievably, I've never been before. It cost £50 to get in (two tickets) but it was well worth the effort. Normally I'm pretty cynical about walking around stately homes and listening to the guides, but this was something else. For a start it wasn't a stately home, it was a castle, and the guides were personable people and it was a pleasure to listen to what they had to say. We started the tour in the restaurant: Cornish pasty and a pot of tea set me up nicely and soon I was on my way to the Keep, which offered great views across Arundel to the sea at nearby Littlehampton. Arundel Castle is owned by the Duke of Norfolk, he's in charge of organising the King's coronation, which I'm told will be a dumbed down affair due to the rising cost of living. I guess old Charles doesn't want to feel guilty about everybody visiting food banks and being on the breadline and who can blame him for that? Personally, if I was him, I'd do it in the pub, perhaps a Chef & Brewer, complete with a few mini Melton Mowbray pies and some chicken legs. Forget the horse-drawn carriages and the limos, just get Station Cars in Purley to take him and the Queen Consort back to wherever they live and why bother televising it. Well, I suppose you could televise it, but just use iphones, no need for expensive equipment. Get the local rag to cover it and Bob's your uncle. But I digress. Arundel Castle was fantastic and it's good to hear that the old Duke still lives there and that the amazing bedrooms we passed by on the tour are still used by guests of the Duke today. How amazing is that. It really is an impressive place and while I was a little scathing about it due to the price of admission, I would actually say that it was good value for money even if I did 'tweet' to the contrary yesterday. I love Arundel, it's a nice place and it's close to the sea, which is good.

Riding to Oxted

It's now 0710hrs and I'm thinking of leaving early, departing at 0730hrs, that would mean I reach my destination at around 0830hrs, I stick around for 30 minutes reading and then I head home. I should get back around 1000hrs.

Well, I got back at 1010hrs and it was a great ride. I followed the 269 to Botley Hill and then rode down Titsey Hill into Oxted. I parked up opposite the charity shop, padlocked the bike and was early enough to get the leather sofa by the window where I sat with an English Breakfast tea reading until it was time to head home but this time riding up Titsey Hill. I do it every week and it's a doddle, and what's more the weather was fine.

Sunday I watched the rain...

To Westerham in the rain

Now it is 0738 on Sunday morning and just a second ago I heard an enormous clap of thunder. Rain is hammering down outside and I've just sent Andy an abort text. We'll look again around 0900. Who knows? We might get a ride in... but we might not. But suddenly I felt as if I had to go, weather be damned, but it had stopped. The rain had stopped and when I looked out the skies were clearing. And then I guess they clouded over again but it didn't stop me wanting to get out there. I found an old hi-viz cape in the garage. I figured it would keep me dry even if I had issues with it a couple summers ago. I don't know, I can't remember, but I felt it was ineffective. The thing is it was hi-viz and that's what I needed with all the cloud floating around. I didn't have any lights, I simply wasn't prepared for dark skies during the daylight hours, so I donned the cape, looking like some kind of dumb superhero. I was wearing cycling shorts underneath, which didn't seem right for some reason, but that's the way it was as I rode along Ellenbridge, up Elmfield, left on Morley and up Church Way. Then I rode along the Limpsfield Road and I won't say it wasn't raining, it was and it kind of rained throughout the ride.

Tatsfield village or Westerham?

The plan was to meet Andy in Westerham. Tatsfield village had been discussed (all via text) and then I changed my mind and said let's meet in Westerham. I rode the usual way: along Clarks Lane and down the hill, the roads wet and shiny and small rivers following me on the side of the road. It was difficult to avoid puddles as they were everywhere, particularly along the 269, keeping me veering into the centre of the road, not a good policy on the 269. I mentioned Tatsfield because I thought it would be less of a journey in the rain, but then, when I changed my mind it was because I wanted the challenge, I wanted the rain if I'm honest, I needed something and I don't know why. Actually, I do know why. The prospect of fixing the sealant around the bath was looming and I know I'm crap at anything DIY so I thought a long and punishing ride in the rain would sort me out. I'm not saying the ride would make me any more keener, any more up for doing the task, but I needed to get out there because I know that when DIY tasks arise there are people assessing my performance, which I know will be crap, and I get on the defensive, I get a little angry, a little tense, it's stress and I hate it because I know what I'm like, I get abusive, there's foul language and I don't mean it, I just get edgy because I hate doing DIY and I hate doing DIY because I know I do it badly, there are always rough edges if you get my drift. So the ride was because of all that. I could have aborted, I could have stayed in the warm, drinking green tea and surfing the internet, but instead I chose to get out there, in the rain, a kind of penance, perhaps that was it, I don't know. But look, it doesn't matter. I got out there, I didn't really care about getting wet, not that I did get a soaking, that cape did it's job. And when I reached Westerham I was elated to discover that I was there first. I thought Andy would be there, not outside the store as he had been these past few months, but inside, in the warm, listening to whatever they were piping through the sound system. But he wasn't there, I'd gotten there first.

Thick fog at Botley Hill so I turned left for Woldingham...

Like ships in the night

I ordered an English breakfast tea in a paper cup and then I ordered a toasted teacake with butter. No jam, no honey. The woman behind the counter said she'd bring it over when it was ready. I took a seat by the window and looked out at my bike that sat outside in the rain getting wetter and wetter as the rain poured down. Where, I wondered, was Andy. I left it a while as anything might have happened. A puncture, a later start than me, I don't know, but in the end of sent him a text stating that I had a good seat, in one of the windows, the small little bays, there were two of them. He texted back saying he was at Tatsfield village, probably in Sheree's Tearoom. He hadn't seen my later texts, the ones that said I'd see him in Westerham and not Tatsfield. We agreed to meet next weekend as there was nothing either of us could do about it. I sat there and finished my tea. I wish I'd packed a book but I hadn't so I resumed staring out of the window at the falling rain, waiting for it to stop so I could ride home. I needed a window, a gap, a space, a pause, a break in the rain and sure enough there was one. I finished my tea, put the cape on and headed out, but the rain started just as soon as I'd riden past the old antique shop on my way out towards the Velobarn. The bike was buffeted by the wind and the rain and cars passing too close as I rode towards Pilgrims Lane and I was relieved, if that's the right word, to turn left and leave behind the main road. Pilgrims Lane was quiet and because of the poor weather I didn't see any other cyclists, they were all at home, in the warm, keeping dry and watching Sunday morning television. I crossed Clarks Lane into the final section of Pilgrims and was facing a dilemma: do I turn right on to Rectory Lane and rejoin Clarks or go straight ahead and take on Titsey in the rain? I opted for the latter and as always I sailed up the hill, and as I got higher and higher there was mist. When I reached Botley Hill it was a real pea souper so I veered left and rode into Woldingham. Everywhere was dark and misty and it didn't brighten up until I was riding down Slines Oak Road and heading towards the last hill of the ride. The rain continued and wasn't going to let up until I reached home, but at least things had brightened up and I no longer needed lights. It was as if I'd been in a dark tunnel most of the ride but suddenly all was well, the need for lights had gone and there wasn't much longer to go before I reached home. Not that I wanted to reach home. Home meant sorting out the bathroom sealant and there would little more than a cup of tea between me and the chore.

Mr Hannigan's Phone

I won't bore you with the chore, but suffice it to say that I did it. I'm not saying I did it particularly well, although the outcome won't be known until the morning when I strip off the masking tape. I'm guessing it won't be brilliant but that's all I can say about it. I feel a bit bad for being such an arsehole, but I'll have to get over it. Right now I'm watching a movie, Mr. Hannigan's Phone, it's an adaptation of a Stephen King short story starring Donald Sutherland. I've got a camomile tea on the go, I'm hoping it'll help me get a good night's sleep. I'd better go, the movie's getting good and I can't think of anything else to say other than I enjoyed the ride. Normally I wouldn't enjoy such a ride, but for some reason I really enjoyed being out there in the weather, in the driving rain, wearing the cape, battling against the elements and trying to take my mind off that awful job, the bathroom sealant, the job which is now done, the job which is not forgotten because it might come back to haunt me, who knows? Tomorrow I'll know whether it's good or a bad job, whether it'll need doing again and whatever else, like my reputation, which is probably in tatters anyway because of my foul language. I just hate being the underdog, the guy that can't do something properly, I don't like being challenged in that way because I reckon there are things we're all good at and things we're not so good at, but I hate having to do the things I'm not so good at because, well, I'm not so good at them. I've lost my train of thought. Mr Harrigan's Phone is a good movie, that's why, so I'll leave it there, say my goodbyes, so to speak. Until next time.

Oxted and Westerham...

Two rides this weekend. Yesterday (Saturday) a 20-mile jaunt to Oxted where I sat in a Caffe Nero drinking green tea and munching on an apricot croissant. Today (Sunday) a ride to Westerham to meet Andy. We sat outside of Costa. Andy had finished his coffee when I arrived. I ordered an English Breakfast tea. My wheel came off. The last time this happened was in the summer at the bottom of Whyteleafe Hill. Andy says it might be something to do with the nut that tightens the wheel. It's only been an issue since I've changed the wheel. I went to Balfe's in Sutton and had a new rear wheel fitted. Since then the wheel has come loose twice, today being the second time. In my entire life, the rear wheel of whatever bike I've owned since the age of 11, has never come loose from the frame. 

Today in Westerham...

Yesterday's ride was pleasant enough. I sat inside the Caffe Nero on the leather sofa by the door, it's a great position. I sat there, people watching mainly, and then went next door (for all of five minutes) to the charity shop. As always there was nothing much there, never is. I rode back up Titsey Hill, which I'm used to now, and then along the 269.

Today I left the house around 0800hrs, virtually on the dot, and rode the usual route to Westerham. That journey was fine also. I'm glad I've managed two rides. The weather is closing in, or it's starting to; and that means just one thing: I need to start thinking about joining a gym and using its stationary bike. It's that or keep a weather eye on (ahem) the weather and motivate myself to get up and leave the house in the dark and ride home in the dark too. Once the clocks go back there will be no alternative. All I need to do is ride twice more during the week, but somehow the cold and the dark will mean I take the train and spend (unwillingly) the £9.40 demanded by Southern Railway. 

A brief mention of last week's ride, which, give or take, was a carbon copy of this week. I decided last week to ride back along Pilgrims Lane and then up Titsey Hill. Remember, I tackle 'the big hill' every Saturday morning when I leave Oxted so I thought I might as well do it on both days. Nothing wrong with a 16% hill on a Saturday and Sunday morning.

I've noticed that as the days get shorter I seem to wake up later. Back in the summer I might be ready to rise around 0500hrs and then leave around 0630hrs, arriving at work around 0740hrs, showering and then starting the day. If I start saying I'll find the motivation, get myself some decent lights and head out in the dark, fine, but I won't. I'll wake later and time will simply run out. So I'm thinking the gym might be the best option: head down there around 1630hrs and set the bike for a one-hour session. I remember doing just that in Stockholm. I'd need to do it two to three times a week and then ride the bike for real at the weekends. Either way I've got to get back into shape. Currently, cakes and cappuccino are coming back and, well, I'm always saying this; ultimately, I've got to get my act together.

Caffe Nero on Saturday

Outside of the riding what else has been going on? Oh, do you know what? I can't be bothered to talk about Liz Truss, I just can't be bothered. She has to go, the Tories have to go and very soon. I'm currently watching Columbo, the second episode in a row. Outside it's getting dark, which ain't bad when you consider that it's 1734hrs. In a couple weeks it'll be dark by now and soon it will be Christmas. 

I went to mum's this afternoon. She keeps falling over in the house and getting bruised in the process. As I was about to leave a male nurse turned up. He checked her over, she was fine, bruised but fine. I worry about her, she's on her own and she seems to have no control over falling over or staying upright. She's fine in herself, she's got all her marbles, but she's forgetful. I tell her something one week, she forgets it by the time I see her the following week. We sat and chatted. I had a cup of tea and a few KitKats, the two-finger bars, so two is the same as having a four-finger bar. That was my excuse. 

I was saying just yesterday that everything seems to have disappeared: friends, family members, family gatherings, they've all gone. It's weird in a way. One minute there were family gatherings, meetings between friends, but now (with a few exceptions) they've all gone. People seem to be getting on with their own lives. The last so-called 'Boxing Day Bash' - the title given to my family's annual Christmas bun fight - was here at my house in December 2019. Since then, of course, there's been the pandemic, that got shot of two Christmas gatherings, and now, with mum soon to be 93, I'm guessing that's the lot. Everyone's doing their own thing. All a bit depressing if you ask me, the ways things change. Once dad died back in May 2011, things changed. Dad drove a lot of the family events and once he passed things quietened down a little, nobody really stepped up to the plate, so to speak. Don't get me wrong, they were never 'noisy' occasions, but the events that existed died off, mum carried on with the Boxing Day event but now it's too much for her, that's why I had the event here at my place in 2019. Whether anybody will do one this year I don't know, but it's unlikely. I guess it's just the way of the world, things change, people change, we all move on.

Westerham last Sunday

The cycling has changed too. No longer the desolate spots in the middle of nowhere, like the Tatsfield Bus Stop, sipping tea from a flask and eating Belvitas. We're no longer slumming it but enjoying the comfort of Costa Coffee on a Sunday. On Saturday I visit Caffe Nero or the new Starbucks further along the high street. We're all fitter, which is good, and long may it continue. I'd better sign off, it looks as if I'll be driving to Wimbledon shortly.

On Pilgrims Lane last weekend and ready to turn right up Titsey Hill

I did drive to Wimbledon but now I'm home having nipped out to M&S at the garage in Gravel Hill. Just eaten pasta, tortelloni with added Parmesan cheese. Very nice. Work tomorrow, but having the Friday off was a good idea as it meant that when I woke up on Saturday thinking it was Sunday I suddenly realised it was Saturday and I still had two days to go before heading to work.

Things are slipping...

Last night a weird dream. Perhaps 'weird' is a bit strong, it wasn't weird. I was in a room with Chris Bryant MP and journalist Matthew Parris. Why, I don't know. Bryant had something of interest to Parris and for some reason I was standing in front of some book shelves looking for book on how to draw, a book that I bought for my daughter many years ago when she was, I don't know, around eight or nine years old. I never found the book and the dream was accompanied by something depressing, I know not what, but I awoke feeling depleted, down, dissatisfied with life. It was a feeling that worsened as I entered the kitchen and discovered there was no bread and that the cake tin (recently full of milk chocolate digestives) was empty. I picked it up and gave it a light shake and there was nothing inside moving around so I knew there was no point in taking it out of the cupboard and opening it. I'm getting bored of Alpen too so instead opted for Shredded Wheat and as there was no bread decided to have three with warm milk and sugar and instead of my normal green tea I chose a mug of PG Tips (decaffeinated) in my huge Sports Direct mug.

Things are slipping and for good reason. The winter approaches. The nights are getting longer, the darkness will soon arrive around 4pm and thoughts of not cycling except at weekends are beginning to enter my mind. Not that I've been cycling midweek of late. For the past two weeks, perhaps longer, maybe three weeks, I haven't been on the bike. My last ride was to the lakes on 18 September with Andy, but I'd already started to flag a little; my two midweek rides to work have slowed to a halt, stopped largely by rain and slightly colder temperatures than the heat of the summer past which saw temperatures soar to over 40 degrees. Long summers, like life, seem never-ending but then suddenly they're gone and there is nothing left but the countdown to Christmas and awful programmes like Strictly Come Dancing and I'm a Celebrity, which are there for one reason: to edge us closer to 'the big day' that massive anti-climax that is Christmas Day.

I wish I could be more consistent. During the summer months I ate mainly salads and drank green tea and cycled regularly, bringing my weight down to around 12 stone. Today, I haven't bothered weighing myself because I know the result will disappoint me and the last thing I want is to be disappointed. I simply need to kickstart things and get moving again. I've started thinking about lights on the bike and cycling home through the sticks in the dark hoping that cars will see me, but most importantly is the need for motivation. I need to have my stuff ready the night before so I can just go, but now, of course, I have to keep an eye on the weather and that awful symbol on the iphone that depicts rain and offers the likelihood in percentage terms. I kind of doesn't matter what the percentage is, as soon as I see the rain symbol I just know that if I ride the bike I'll get drenched and remember this is October not June or July or August. I won't be arriving at work feeling alive and ready for the day, I'll be a damp pile of anger wishing I lived somewhere else in the world, a wish more pressing because of the general state of the country with Liz Truss at the helm.

My diet has slumped of late thanks to two weeks (give or take) in Italy. I thought it would be the much-praised Mediterranean diet on show, but no, it was biscuits and baked goods that stole the show and cappuccino every morning instead of a green tea. In fact it was sweet things throughout the day. If I found myself in a cafe I'd order a cappuccino and a cream-filled croissant or if I was attending some function or other I'd be nibbling on some kind of cake. My problem is I can't stop. Why, for instance, did I have three Shredded Wheat this morning and not just two? The product is packed two to a pack so I had to make the extra effort to open a second one to have three biscuits in my bowl, but I did it nonetheless. A nasty combination of eating more and exercising less is brewing and I need to sort it out sooner rather than later. Admittedly, this week - Wednesday to be precise - I went down with some kind of food poisonings, or something in that ballpark. I won't bore you with the awful details, but it left me weary and I had to take the day off work so I could sleep it off. I didn't feel better until around 2300hrs when I went downstairs for toast and honey, my first meal of the day. At least I knew I had recovered as I sat in front of the television watching Top Gear with Clarkson and Hammond talking about the Lancia.

My plan was to ride to work on Thursday. It was a great day (yesterday) for cycling but because I was so weary after the day before I opted for the train and now it's Friday and I'm not cycling today either. The plan for Saturday is to ride to Oxted for coffee in the morning and I'm hoping for reasonable weather as I simply must kick myself into gear and get back out there; then there's Westerham on Sunday to meet Andy.

Andy has the right idea: he's able to go into the garage and ride on a 'turbo trainer'. I could do that but I'm leaning more towards joining a gym and using the stationary bikes as I could easily fit in two, possibly three, sessions per week and save the real cycling for the weekends. That's the plan.

Heading home...

I awoke around 0600hrs. It was time to head home, but first breakfast. Alright, not a particularly healthy breakfast (cake, croissant, Coco Pops, ham and cheese rolls, a sugary fruit juice and a cappuccino) but I was accustomed to such fayre and was ready to head downstairs at just gone 0700hrs. I had set myself one challenge: to see if it was possible to get into the bathroom without activating the fan. I figured I would need to be on the floor, on my stomach, crawling along the ground like a commando, but it might be possible and, of course, I would need video evidence. I lay on the floor with a view to setting up my iphone video camera. The iphone needed to be placed against the wall and then I would proceed to crawl into the bathroom and hopefully the fan would remain silent. Well, the whole thing was a waste of time from the get go. As soon as I placed my iphone against the wall the fan activated itself, meaning that there's no way I would get in their without being 'noticed'. I gave up, there was no point. Was there ever any point?

Waiting for my cab outside the Villa Dragoni, Buttrio

A few more guests had arrived at the Villa Dragoni as there were now five cars parked outside and I heard people last night walking around on the wooden floors, coming up the stairs, going to their rooms. In fact, this morning I saw somebody leaving their room so I'm guessing it's almost a full house. There might be a function going on. One of the people I met at the conference told me she was married at the Villa Dragoni and perhaps things were being set up for the weekend. Today is Saturday and I should have been cycling to Oxted for a cup of coffee and a chill-out, but I can't because I'm still in Italy and I have a cab, a train, a bus and a plane to catch (and possibly another cab when I get the other end). But first, the cab from the Villa Dragoni to Udine railway station and a train to Venezia (that's Venice). I kept nodding off on the train but eventually alighted at Venezia Mestre just before noon. The area outside of the railway station left a lot to be desired. There were undesirables floating around, put it that way and the back streets were littered with graffiti and Chinese restaurants. I'd say this was the Chinese quarter, but that would far too grand a description.

Breakfast on my last morning...

I had two hours to fill before I needed to be at Marco Polo airport and the only real option was to find a cafe and sit there reading and eating. While it had been suggested that I check out Venice and the canals, once I'm locked in to 'getting home mode' anything else is added hassle; all that would happen is I'd miss my flight. So I pushed my luggage around the mildly dodgy streets around Venezia Mestre railway station looking for somewhere to eat. I settled upon the Bologna Hotel and sat in an empty restaurant until somebody presented me with a menu: spaghetti bolognese and a green salad plus a fizzy mineral water and then, when finished and paid up, I headed towards the bus station where I boarded a bus to the airport. It was a short journey and soon I found myself passing through security and passport control and hanging around awaiting departure. I was flying easyJet to Gatwick (far better than London Heathrow and nearer to home). The flight was good and I managed to finish American Pastoral before we landed. I was in seat 1a, right at the front of the plane and plenty of legroom. Strong headwinds slowed the plane down. The flight time was two hours and when we landed I completely forgot about the train strike. It was Saturday evening. I only remembered the strike when I got to the railway station at Gatwick and found it deserted. Taking a taxi was the only option so I called my cab company and then waited in the Costa on the South Terminal - another excuse to eat rubbish, this time in the shape of a cinnamon brioche roll and a cappuccino. I can't remember what time I reached home, it was probably around 2000hrs. Strictly Come Dancing was on and I couldn't believe that a whole year had passed since the last programme aired. For some reason I'm going off the whole thing, probably because of the BBC and their PC stance. Karen Clifton is dancing with another woman and I don't really understand why or what the Beeb hopes to get out of it, what do they want us all to be thinking? Oooh! The BBC is so right on! Most people don't care, I know I don't. We all know there are homosexuals and lesbians and it doesn't really bother us, live and let live and all that, so why does the BBC feel it has to ram it down our throats? If anything, rather than suggest that all is fine and two women dancing together - or two men - is nothing out of the ordinary, I would wager that it has the opposite effect. People are tired of having their consciences pricked, we know it goes on and we don't give a stuff. Get over it!

Breakfast buffet on my last day

I can't remember what happened after that, I sat around, not really watching the television and eventually, around 2330hrs, I hit the sack. I slept reasonably well and had aborted my planned ride to Westerham to meet Andy, I simply had to take things a little easy. But I'll be back in the saddle soon. In fact I'm planning a ride or two during the week if the rain holds off. I need to get back to some healthy eating. All week I've been stuffing my face with croissants, biscuits, cakes (for breakfast!) and it's not good. Don't get me wrong, I've loved it, but I need to get back to the way things were a few weeks ago: two to three mid-week rides, plus my weekend cycling. I need to get back to Alpen for breakfast and green tea and I might start making myself avocado sandwiches so I don't have to visit the caff. Looking at the photo to the left, however, I must say that I miss those extravagant, sugar-filled breakfasts and I was getting used to drinking cappuccinos instead of tea, but generally speaking I think I need to be indulging in healthy eating again and that's the plan for this week.