For the past two Sundays now I've bitten the bullet and taken a ride in the rain, but not just to shops and back, oh no: a 22-mile ride to and from Westerham in Kent. The first time, the Sunday before last, it was the result of knowing I had to sort out the sealant around the bath, a job I not only dislike but one I'm not particularly good at; and it was the latter point that drove me out in the pouring rain, the knowledge that I was taking on something I wasn't particularly good at made me throw caution to the wind and get out there to get one last bit of enjoyment before plunging myself headfirst into despondency, one last ride before the boredom of DIY.
Last week, ie the Sunday just past, it was a case of 'if you can do it once, you can do it again' and by that I mean that being out in the rain isn't really that bad, not once you get used to it and accept that you're going to get wet and that's the end of it. I had the cape, the bright yellow and grey cape and while it did keep me dry, to a degree, I did get wet. I remember reaching home and taking off the cape only to discover that my fleece underneath it was damp, alright, wet, but that might have been the sweat created by the cape. The long and the short it is simple: whatever you wear you're going to get wet so get over it, which I did.
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| Cappuccino and an almond croissant in the rain |
Last week, as I rode down to Westerham to meet Andy (if you remember, we didn't meet the week before because we got our wires crossed); initially we talked about Westerham, then I threw in Tatsfield Village and the end result was Andy went to Tatsfield and I went to Westerham. But anyway, as I was saying, I rode along in the rain, riding through puddles and, as I approached the northern Kent market town I started to wonder - or perhaps that's not the word - I started to imagine Andy not sitting inside Costa out of the rain, but sitting outside and I began to think: 'no, he wouldn't do that, why would he do that?' I couldn't get the thought out of my mind, mainly because I didn't fancy sitting outside in the pouring rain. Much to my amazement, when I reached my destination, there he was sitting outside in the rain, admittedly under a canopy, but right on the edge of it - he was sitting outside! And what's more, he didn't look too happy. Later, after ordering a cappuccino and an almond croissant, which set me back around £4 (Costa is far cheaper) I asked him why the long face? The answer was simple and totally understandable, it was the poor weather and also perhaps he was looking into the future and wondering what he would do when he retired or whether there was something else he could do with his life now. I understood what he was saying as it's something I'm always doing: wondering what if, what else I could do and then the chilling realisation that there was nothing (short of selling up and living in a cottage by the sea on the Isle of Harris). We sat under the canopy. I'd taken off my cape and was watching the rain and talking about futures and what ifs and this and that and it is a sobering conversation that lingers and gets me thinking. But I think something I don't take into consideration (and I'm sure Andy's the same) is that what we have is alright, at least we're both working in fairly steady jobs, we can afford to get our bikes fixed and sit in a cafe, in the rain, on a Sunday morning and what we're really dealing with here is what Ian Brown refers to in a song as 'first world problems'. He's right, that's what we have here, first world problems, we don't have to worry about Russian bombs or the Iranian Morality Police or famine, all we have to worry about is getting back home on our bikes in the rain.
When it was time to go I lingered, saying goodbye to Andy and adding that I'd see him next week, ie this coming Sunday and let's hope it doesn't rain this week.
I rode back via the Velobarn and along Pilgrims and then, while I considered Titsey Hill, the idea of doing it in the driving rain put me off so I hung a left up Rectory Lane and followed the more conventional route back from Westerham along Clarks Lane and then down the 269, all of which was fine.
Today is Friday 4th November, the 49th anniversary of the Battle of Kiln Castle, the big battle in my childhood home's back garden in 1974 when my brother and I decided to stop playing with our toy soldiers. Almost 50 years ago, can you believe that? I can't. Anyway, that's another story for another day, although I think I've written about it on this blog somewhere. In fact, click on the link to read more about the Battle of Kiln Castle 1974.
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