To Biggin Hill...

Part of me suggested to my other self that it might be best not to go riding today. Stay in, get the garden finished and then make Sunday lunch. But there were stronger forces at work suggesting the complete opposite. Why not get out on the bike now, early, and then come back and do the garden and the Sunday roast. It made sense so I headed off with little idea as to where I was going. If I'm really honest, I was getting bored with Westerham and simply didn't fancy another large English breakfast tea or a coffee. It was all too familiar down there and I needed a change more than anything else. So, as the journey got under way along Ellenbridge, Morley and Church Way the voices in my head started up again (and no, I'm not schizophrenic, just mulling through my options quietly to myself). What about Oxted? The plus point was obvious, Caffe Nero, but the negatives were fairly strong and by that I mean the ride up Titsey Hill on the return journey. Had I brought along a flask of tea and some milk I might have made the Tatsfield Churchyard my destination as the weather was pleasant enough, and then, of course, there was always the Velo Barn, but that would mean climbing up the same old hill that I tackle shortly after leaving Westerham. Godstone Green? No, no, no, that hill on the return ride would kill me and besides the temptation to eat cake would be too strong to resist. Then I thought about Sheree's Tea room in Tatsfield Village, that would be pleasant and I think that was my decision in the end. I rode down Clarks Lane and instead of turning left on to Approach Road and riding into the village I carried on and made the next left turn further down, keeping the churchyard on my left as I weaved around the lanes heading for Sheree's. Soon I found myself on Old Lane and saw a sign to Biggin Hill. Why not? So off I went and soon I was in Biggin Hill.

Biggin Hill is a funny old place, full of a diverse selection of modern houses stacked up steeply behind one another. There never seems to be anybody around, apart from one or two people wandering here and there. On a Sunday there doesn't appear to be anything open either. I found a McColl's newsagent on a row of otherwise closed retailers, including Ozzie's Cafe which had the shutters pulled down. There was little to do so I retraced my steps along Sunningvale Avenue and then up Ricketts Hill Lane and soon I found myself bearing right and heading for the centre of Tatsfield Village. But I wasn't planning on stopping at Sheree's. I sailed past and then wound my way along Approach Road, turning right when I reached the Tatsfield Bus Stop and headed towards Botley Hill. I wasn't even tempted to follow the road into Woldingham and chose instead to roar along the 269 on which there was little going on. Sunday is a good day for the 269. This was a non-stop ride. I needed to stop spending money on cappuccino and cake and now was as good a time as any to make a stand. It wasn't long before I found myself at Warlingham Green, then the Limpsfield Road, Church Way and, of course, home. I reached the house at bang on 1100hrs and when I got in there was a chance to make up an avocado sandwich and a mug of tea. I don't know what's going to happen today. There was talk of a pub lunch, but that's now off the cards, so I guess I'll be making a Sunday roast later. It's my speciality.

Sunningvale Avenue, Biggin Hill

A few words on Biggin Hill, the destination of this morning's ride. Biggin Hill is known for its war time aviation heroics and heroes and is, of course, still an airport today. There's the famous Biggin Hill Air Show in the summer and that's really all there is to know, but riding around the town as I was this morning I realised there was more to Biggin Hill than meets the eye; it has a certain air of immortality about it, an element of timelessness, which I love, an air of Saturday afternoon, early evening perhaps, a bare light bulb burning in an upstairs room that is being decorated, the smell of emulsion, Final Score on the television, football matches drawing to a close, some late kick-offs, Saturday night television, the prospect of a lazy Sunday ahead, snow on the ground, muffled sound, Christmas trees... or even sunshine and the heat of the summer. I don't know what it is, but it seems like a happy place, plenty of different styles of houses, but all fairly modern-looking. Oddly, when I was there this morning it appeared to be a ghost town, there was nobody around, but it was fairly early as I sailed down Ricketts Lane, noting to myself that I'd be riding uphill later on, although it wasn't that bad, certainly no way near as severe as Lusted Hall Lane, another road that would have taken me back into Tatsfield. It was a shame that Ozzy's Cafe was shuttered. Had it been open I might have nipped in for a mug of tea and a slice of toast. It probably would have been open had I paid a visit yesterday, but instead I was in Westerham, in the Costa, enjoying a regular cappuccino. I'll definitely pay a return visit, perhaps search around the town a bit, see what I can find. There might be another parade of shops with a tearoom instead of just a convenience store and a closed cafe.

The distance to Biggin Hill (the way I rode there) was around a 21-mile round trip, so it was the same as Westerham. I'm glad about that because I was pootling around this morning hoping that I could make up some reasonable distance for the sake of my 70-mile respectability at the end of my cycling week. Let's see. A lot depends on the other rides later in the week.

Okay, I'm going to sign off. Columbo's on and you can't beat a bit of Columbo on a Sunday evening, or any evening for that matter.