Back to Biggin Hill

Polesteeple Hill, Stock Hill, Ricketts Hill Lane, Hillcrest and, of course, Biggin Hill. The common denominator? It's the word 'hill' of course and Biggin Hill is loaded with them. I decided to make a return visit following last week's ride and this time I wanted to find the main high street and the Spitfire Cafe. Last week I simply rode there and back, but I figured it would be good to hang around for a while. Stop one, of course, was Ozzi's Cafe.

I rode the fast way to Tatsfield and then, on a whim, decided to ride along Lusted Hall Lane, a road I remembered riding up with Andy a few years ago. I recall a very steep hill and was glad that on this occasion I was riding down, not up. Lusted Hall Lane starts with terraced council houses peppered with satellite dishes. It twists and turns into the countryside and soon there are fields on either side of the road. The road dips and turns and within minutes I found myself facing a wooden sign that welcomed me to Biggin Hill. I turned left into Sunningvale Avenue and rode towards the roundabout where, on the far side, I would find Ozzi's. The sun was shining and I felt on top of the world. It was great to be back in Biggin Hill on such an amazing day. When I reached Ozzi's, however, the fact that only cash was acceptable ruled it out for me as I only carry plastic these days. I headed up the very steep and long Stock Hill (easily strong competition for Titsey Hill) and when I reached the top I turned left and then right and found myself on what must have been Biggin Hill's high street. There was a social club, a Tesco Express, a Waitrose and a Costa Coffee, but there was also the Spitfire Cafe. 

The sign that says you're in Biggin Hill!

I padlocked the bike on some nearby railings and went inside. I ordered a large mug of tea (which wasn't that large at all) plus scrambled egg on a slice of toast and then sat down and took in my surroundings: there was a lot of framed photography of airmen adorning the walls; this place was a kind of shrine to World War 2 heroics and the clientele were all old enough to have been there in person. I won't go on too much about the cafe as that's something I'll do on another blog of mine, which you can find by clicking here although I will say that the food was fine. I checked the menu and there was plenty of home-made dishes and other stuff, including apple pie and custard (the mark of any self-respecting caff in my opinion). But it wasn't that cheap. You could spend a pretty penny in the Spitfire, I thought, as I finished up and prepared for the ride home.

The Spitfire Cafe is a must for any hungry cyclist.

After unpadlocking the bike I rode down to the Biggin Hill Library and Swimming Pool and I was hoping they wouldn't tell me I needed to book a swim using an app. They didn't, so I might return one day soon for a swim with my daughter. I rode up to the junction, turned right then right again on to Stock Hill and covered the brakes on the descent towards Ozzi's Cafe. Cash only, I thought dismissively as I turned left at the roundabout and headed up Sunningvale towards the start of Ricketts Hill Lane. Yes, another hill, but not as severe as returning to Tatsfield via Lusted Hall Lane. Later I turned right on to Ship Lane and rode into what you could call the 'down town', not that there's much to see bar the Old Ship pub, Sheree's Tearoom and a posh restaurant. I didn't stop, I'd seen it all before, many times. At the end of Approach Road I turned right and headed for Botley Hill then it was just a straight run along the 269. 

Chilling at the Spitfire Cafe...

I got home around 1022hrs and psyched myself up for a bit of lawn mowing. In the end I went beyond the call of duty and decided to drop the setting down to 2 on the Mountfield and give the main lawn a second once-over (after last week's initial cut). In all honesty, when I looked at it the following morning (Sunday - Mother's Day) there was room for improvement, but I had things to do, like going into London for a Mother's Day lunch at the Eagle in Farringdon. As we wandered around Exmouth Market and Clerkenwell, prior to eating, I realised that if I had to live in London it would be here on one of the quiet and narrow side streets. But I doubt I'll ever have the money for that. I jumped on the 1428 train from Farringdon to East Croydon, leaving those I was with to check out the Barbican while I engaged in a second Mother's Day escapade, this time round at mum's. I picked up the car at the station and drove home to pick up some flowers purchased earlier and then jumped back into the car and drove over to Sutton (my home town) for a slice of fruit cake and a mug of tea. I could have done without the cake as I'd just enjoyed a large dessert (plum, apple and Calvados trifle) following my pork belly main course. Is there no end to my piggery? In short, no, and now, of course, I have a pork belly of my own.

It's almost 1900hrs and Columbo, starring Antony Andrews and, of course, Peter Falk, is on television. The sun is shining outside (all morning it was cloudy and there was the odd spit of rain). I reckon Anthony Andrews is the murderer. In fact, I think I've seen it before and yes, he is the killer. 

Last week Ozzi's Cafe was closed, but not this week...

Cycling-wise not a good week. Compared with my 70 + miles last week, I only managed something like 42 miles over two rides. I was unable to ride on Thursday, which had been the plan, and that had a knock-on effect on Friday. I dawdled when I should have just got out there. Instead I had a full English at a local caff and then drove into Sevenoaks and wandered around aimlessly. Should I fret about this? No, I shouldn't, but I always do for some reason. I did manage three 2.5-mile walks on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The two rides on Thursday and Friday would have been the icing on the cake, but they were not to be. Still, there's always next week.