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.
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| Red sky on Saturday morning... |
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.
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| Sunday I watched 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.
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| 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.
