Walking, riding, eating chocolate and getting on with life...

With the cold weather behind us - for now - I've settled into a reasonable routine: I ride to Oxted every Saturday morning, I chill in Costa (and Caffe Nero) depending on what takes my fancy, although if I go to Costa I can use my Costa card and that means I get a free drink somewhere along the line. I think it's every eighth drink is free, something like that. A couple of weeks back, maybe three, I can't remember, I rode to Oxted to meet my pal Garth. He rides from Redhill, along the A25 - not a pleasant road to ride on, he says - and we met in the Caffe Nero (see, I told you I visit both depending on what takes my fancy). When I got there, Garth had already arrived and he was in a pretty bad state. I shouldn't say this, but it's true: it was his own fault, a. for charging around and b. for going too fast, but also there was some bad luck involved too and I certainly sympathized. He'd taken the mini roundabout at the end of the road a little bit fast, hit a drain and fell off the bike, or rather the bike went down and he went with it. It wasn't a pretty sight, put it that way. His leg, I can't remember which one, possibly his right, was cut up bad, his shoulder had taken a beating too and he was taking it all pretty well, he even rode back to Redhill, took a bath, bandaged himself up and was fit for work on Monday. So, respect is definitely due.

Caffe Nero Oxted week ago

I met with Andy in Westerham the following day and so has been the routine these past weeks. I went today (to Oxted). Garth wanted a lie-in so I was alone. I went to Costa, ordered an English breakfast tea and a pack of two ginger biscuits and sat at the front of the store looking out on my bike. The place was empty and I remarked on the fact to the girl behind the counter. "You should have been here 10 minutes ago," she said, explaining how a particularly busy period had just ended. Just two people, possibly three, were in the store and it was peaceful. I hadn't brought my book or my glasses so I just sat there and not for long. Soon I was walking up towards the charity shop next to the Caffe Nero. I don't know why, but I quite like it in there. I wandered around for all of 10 minutes and then walked down the high street, taking a brief look in the Oxfam shop, not that I was looking to buy anything, there's just something nice about charity shops. 

I didn't switch the Strava back on until I reached the Costa. I figured it was best to reactivate it at the point where I switched it off earlier. I can't say the journey back appealed one bit. I wasn't looking forward to the hill, the huge hill that is Titsey Hill, but as avid readers will know, it's not that bad and once again I switched off and rode up the hill on automatic pilot, my mind far away, engaged in many conversations with many different people as the bike cruised upwards, minding its own business as I stared at the trees on either side of the road, looking forward to the moment when I saw the top of the hill, marked by a road sign. Once I get to the top I keep the bike in the lowest gear until I'm past the Botley Hill pub, then I crank it up as far as it goes and ride along the 269, hopefully not having to endure the rudeness of passing motorists. Last week some nobody with one of those builders' cars - you know the ones, Truckman Top written on them - he slows down when I was riding the other way heading south towards Oxted, he slows until his running parallel with me. "There's a cycle lane over there, you dickhead!"he says and then speeds up. I could think of only one word: cunt! My ploy is always to say nothing, ignore the bastards completely but never ever use the cycle lane, that would be to admit they're right and I'm wrong and I won't have that. Besides, the cycle lane the cunt was referring to is lined with hawthorn bushes and I know from experience that riding it means punctures.

Won't be long before summer comes

In addition to cycling I've been walking. I've always been a walker, but just lately I've been recording the walks on Strava. They're always roughly three miles (I only get an hour for lunch so it's hard to do much more, although sometimes I walk from Redhill to Merstham (just over two miles). In fact, a couple weeks back I did just that, having already walked three miles at lunch time - a five-mile day no less - and when I reached Merstham as darkness was about to set in, I sat in the waiting room where I found an old copy of Q magazine (April 2000). There was 'cash for questions' with Lemmy from Motorhead and what amazed me most about the magazine was how there are so many things that 'wouldn't be allowed' today, like 'sexist' and suggestive advertisements, photos of topless women (in the Lemmy interview) and, well, I loved it. I've still got it somewhere as it reminded me of the good old days of the 90s. I loved Q magazine and was a regular reader, I loved the writing and the attitude too.

We're heading towards March and longer days as the summer approaches, and that means I'll be riding to work a couple of times a week and getting fitter in the process.

Sunday before last in Westerham

Sunday morning

I awoke around 0300hrs. By 0400hrs I was still awake and when it past 0430hrs I decided to get up. I was tired and weary but I couldn't sleep so I made breakfast, two slices of toast with honey, and then I checked out the television, it wouldn't work...and then it worked and I sat at the dining table, lap top on, watching one of those real police programmes on Channel Five, proof if any was needed that there are plenty of nutters around. 

I was tired and considering an abort text, but then I remembered that I'd left my charger in the office, leaving me with two choices: try and reach Andy via Twitter or use my daughter's charger to fire up the phone and then make my decision. I think I'll go on the ride, possibly leave earlier than 0800hrs and then chill when I reach Westerham. That said, I'm still not sure what to do. I'm not sure I could face the ride, I'm so weary, perhaps it wouldn't be safe to ride in such a state. I kept thinking about the ride home and the very thought of it was horrendous. I could have done with the ride, but then I didn't want to overdo things. I'd have to make my mind up before 0800hrs. But then Andy sent a text suggesting a later ride to allow the frost time to thaw. Not a bad idea, I thought, and agreed, but in the back of my mind I knew I couldn't face it. So I texted back and aborted the ride.

Bike in Westerham week before last

The rest of the day I didn't do a great deal. I had a shower and a shave and went to see Natalie's uncle Robin, he's in Chelsea and Westminster hospital at the moment and I wish him well. Then, on my return, I made an amazing chicken roast dinner with pigs in blankets, plenty of vegetables, mini Yorkshire puddings, cauliflower cheese, the works. There was apple pie and vanilla custard for dessert and it rounded off the day nicely. At some time during the day I watched Columbo and I can't remember what I watched in the evening. 

That broken night did me no favours. Last night I awoke around 0400hrs, but instead of getting up I remained in bed and that was crucial. I'm not sure if I went back to sleep or not, but at least I was resting up. I started to wonder whether diet was having anything to do with waking up in the middle of the night. Possibly. I know I keep banging on about it, but I'm stuffing my face with a lot of sugar at present: A Kinder egg last Wednesday, a huge slice of Victoria sponge and a cappuccino in Bateman's on Saturday afternoon, a cappuccino mouse yesterday evening, a sneaky Millionaire's Shortbread in the Waitrose car park on Sunday, assorted chocolate biscuits at work on Friday and I'm always saying it, but it simply must stop. 

On Pilgrim's Lane week before last

I think I'll challenge myself during the month of March, which is coming up. I went through a long phase of not eating any wrapped chocolate bars. It went on for years and years, but now it's all gone to pot. I blame the pandemic, but in reality it's my own weak will and greediness. 

I made a lot of bad dietary choices during the lockdown. Well, not loads, I also ate very well, but I've restarted the chocolate bars is what I'm saying. Oh, I almost forgot, I've been munching sneaky Lindor and Cadbury's Caramel eggs in the Waitrose car park while listening to Radio Four in the car. 

So, March, a month of no cakes, no biscuits, no buns, no chocolate eggs, no cakes, nothing – let's see!