Beware the fat man...

It was the fat man who bothered me. He stood an easy 6'5" and resembled a barrel from the waist up. I found it hard to believe that he was a cyclist; he certainly didn't possess the frame of somebody accustomed to riding a bicycle. We were both admiring an electric bike. "A bit pricey," said I and the fat man smiled. "It's on offer," he replied and again I found it quite at odds with his appearance, his stature, that he was even working in a shop selling bicycles. It was clear that the man wanted an electric bike, he even went as far as to say that such a machine would be his next purchase. "I'll need it with all the cappuccinos and cakes that I put away," he said with a smile. Hearing that he was a cake and cappuccino man I was taken aback. He drinks cappuccino and eats cake and he's huge, massive, built like a brick shithouse and in urgent need of a diet. But hold the bus, my world began fall apart and soon I fell into a Dickens novel, A Christmas Carol no less. I was Jacob Marley staring face-to-face at the ghost of Christmases to come, a future where I and not the fat man before me was fat and barrel-shaped and in need of some serious exercise. I kept hearing the words 'cappuccino' and 'cakes' and thought of my weekend, that Millionaire's shortbread, the cheesecake dessert on Friday afternoon, the cookie on Thursday, those Bounty cookies in the office and that Ritter Sport chocolate bar that sits at this very moment in the bottom draw of my desk, awaiting my attention on Monday morning. What was to become of me I wondered. I seemed powerless to change my destiny, tomorrow belongs to cakes and cappuccino and me, a fat bastard. Surely there was something I could do about this awful state of affairs. Well, of course there was, I'd have to stop eating shit and start exercising. One ride a week was no longer enough and simply walking from Purley Oaks to home every night was insufficient. I'd have to double up on the walking and try my best to ride the Nobbler in the evening, perhaps not every night, but at least three. But words are one thing, actions another and the key to my success in this venture, which always comes at Christmas time, I hasten to add, is simply to get out there and do it. I won't go on anymore about my options, you know what they are and so do I. I'll simply have to make my decisions and act, there's no other way.

It's got to stop!

The wrong mindset...

The ride to Tatsfield village was par for the course. Fortunately, there was no rain, although I half expected it at any moment. The skies were grey but there was hope as I could see the sun, or rather the effects of the sun, illuminating the heavens and that meant (perhaps) that I wouldn't get a soaking, not on the outward journey at any rate.

It was Sunday and I'd missed a ride on Saturday for no reason other than my own indecisive nature. I even got ready and was standing around in my cycling gear until around 0900 when I decided I wouldn't bother. What a travesty! A perfectly decent day and I simply didn't go out. I should have struck while the iron was hot and left the house around 0800 or even 0700. 

Tatsfield village pond in the summer time

On Sunday, then, I rode to Tatsfield village to meet Andy and the weather held out. When I reached Sheree's I noted Andy's bike was already there – I spotted his bike parked outside, but to be fair, I had already seen the orange forks of the Kona Blast from a long way off. Judging by the fact that his latte was untouched, however, I knew he hadn't been there too long. As for me, well, I was running a little late, possibly around 15 minutes, and noting that Andy's coffees were untouched I knew I'd still managed to keep a reasonable time. I wasn't slacking in other words. Or, to be clearer, I hadn't really lost any of my 'fitness' even if I have been fretting about it for some time. I'm always fretting about it – and other things too. I'm a worrier and I wish I wasn't one, but I am. I keep things on my mind, silly, irrelevant things in the greater scheme of things, when I should confine them to the waste basket, and there lies my problem. There are many things on my mind, constantly, and I never seem to resolve them, they just stay there, nagging away at me. In short, I need to resolve things. But let's make no mistake: these are what is known as 'first world problems', which is shorthand for 'none of my problems have any real substance when compared to those, for example, of the good people of Gaza who are being shelled by the Israelis and there are people much closer to home who have bigger problems than I do, including my own sister, so let's get that straight from the get-go.

My current big fret is how to maintain a level of fitness during the winter months when the rain will inevitably stop play. There are many solutions:-

• Buy a bike trainer from Evans Cycles, hook up the old Kona to it and enjoy hours of cycling in the garage. But first, fix the Kona's rear wheel.

• Join a gym and use their exercise bikes AND combine with a swim (get that upper body back to what it used to be).

• Rely entirely upon riding the Norfolk Nobbler during the week, rain or shine, light or dark. Combine this with more walking, i.e. from Sanderstead to Purley in the mornings and from Purley to Sanderstead in the evenings.

• Buy an exercise bike and put it in the garden room (it's not a conservatory).

Well, starting from the top, Andy's preferred solution to my problem is the trainer from Evans Cycles. I'm not keen on this option because I don't fancy being the garage, alone, working out in the cold. In all honesty, I'd rather ride the Nobbler fives times a week and be done with it.

Joining the gym appeals as I'd be in the warmth on a decent exercise bike and then I can have a swim afterwards and a hot shower. But will I keep up the hard work? Or will I simply get bored and eventually find myself forking out £40 a month for nothing?

Relying 100% on the Nobbler is the cheapest option as there's no financial outlay; I'd just have to grin and bear a bit of cold and rain should it occur and that shouldn't bother me too much as the ride lasts around 35 minutes and surely I can take a soaking for that minuscule length of time? There are downsides, like would I feel like doing it in the dark after a hard day at work? Probably not, but that's where mindset comes in to play. I've simply got to bite the bullet and stick to it rather than wimp out and do nothing other than fret about not doing any exercise.

Buying an exercise bike and putting it in the garden room appeals, but a decent one will set me back a few bob and I've never got any money just floating around.

So, all of the above (and other matters I won't bore you with) are constantly harassing my mind, normally when I want to get a good night's sleep – something that eludes me a lot these days – even if, of late, I've taken to sleeping in outer space with BBC Radio 3 for company. This has worked a treat and only came about when I decided that I didn't want to catch a heavy cough and a cold which had invaded the household. I speak to you today as somebody who has managed to avoid illness through sleeping in a different room to the person infected and (I'd like to think) my daily intake of oranges, grapes, blueberries, bananas and an orange sliced into segments, not to forget Omega 3 fish oil and multivits too. It all seems to have done the trick and even if I've felt a sore throat brewing now and then – the tell-tale sign of coming down with a cold and a cough – I've somehow managed to avoid it. That said, I mustn't get smug about it.

Back to today's ride and when I arrived at Sheree's I ordered myself a tea and went to join Andy who, as I said earlier, had a latte and shot of espresso too. "I'm knackered," he told me and I can imagine he was considering the amount of mileage he puts in on a daily basis using his garage-based trainer and taking into account all the other things going on in his life that add stresses and strains to his existence.

We chatted about hills and cycling-related stuff and Andy quite rightly said it's all about mindset, it's about not feeling miserable and despairing as you reach the bottom of the hill, it's about, possibly, cranking the bike into a higher gear to see if your fitness level can be improved and it's about not feeling depressed at the very thought of a hill. To be honest, hills don't depress me. Fine, I think about an approaching hill if I know it's coming, I psyche myself for a big hill like Titsey or White Lane or White Hill Lane or Tithepit Shaw Lane and I get on with. I can't remember the last time I took a hill and gave up, unless it was one of those situations where I selected the wrong gear or didn't change down in time or lost momentum or a car came the other way and I had to dismount, but generally I'm fine with hills. Gone are the days when I can't handle them.

We finished our tea and readied ourselves for the journey home. While it didn't rain for most of the return journey, there was a light dusting of rain as I left Sheree's, but by the time I reached Botley Hill it was over and the rest of the ride was plain sailing.

It's 1437hrs on Sunday afternoon and I can hear the rain outside the window. There's been a lot of rain of late but so far it hasn't affected the Sunday ride, which is good. As avid readers will know, I did get absolutely drenched not long ago.

It's now 1853hrs, I've been watching the Robbie Williams documentary on Netflix (which is good) and I've been to see mum, she's fine. On 23 November she'll be 94 years old; at some stage I'll have to think about what to buy her.

It rained throughout the night. I remember being awake at 0400hrs listening to it. It was still raining in the morning but then it stopped and now, at 1159hrs on Monday 13 November, the rain has stopped and the sun is out... let's hope it stays that way.

To Oxted and Tatsfield Village

Sunday 29 October: The weird thing about writing is that I dream up ways of starting something and then I forget or I think of a different way of beginning a blogpost and then I realise that the same old themes are coming up again and again. I can't remember how I considered starting this blogpost, but it's not the way it's appearing now. In fact, talking about how I'm going to start the post was never the plan. I was probably going to start by discussing today's ride to Tatsfield village. There's been a lot of rain. I think it rained overnight because there were plenty of puddles. It's been like that of late: overnight rain and then puddles in the morning. Puddles to dodge on the 269, being careful not to drift out into the path of a car. Best, perhaps, to get wet legs. So, look, here I am talking about today's ride so I might as well continue with it. We'd decided last week that we'd be visiting Sheree's Tea rooms, not only because we've decided we like Sheree's Tea Rooms, but because the woman – perhaps she's Sheree herself – told us she'd have some vegan cake next week. I'm talking now about last week because the reason we were going this week is to sample the vegan cake she'd promised to order. Fortunately, she was on the money, she kept to her word and there was a vegan cake for Andy this morning when we arrived around 0900hrs. I opted for a non-vegan Victoria sponge. The weather had been good. Not even cloudy. The skies when I stepped outside were that sort of blue/grey colour with wispy clouds and patches, dare I say of blue. 

Last week, myself, Andy and the Illustrious Illustrator (Geoff Althoff) went for a curry in Whyteleafe. It was the place where, back in 2006, Andy and I first decided to start cycling on a regular basis – and we haven't stopped since. But things had changed. Not Geoff, not Andy, not me, not our rides, but the Indian restaurant.They conned us, over-charged us (quite considerably): three guys, nobody drinking, just one dish each, some onion bhajis, Bombay Aloo, nothing over the top, but the bill was a hefty £139. We won't be going back. Geoff and I figured that Andy got the short end of the stick (by a few quid). He'd not had the no-alcohol lager. I told Geoff not to worry about it and that Andy wasn't going to lose any sleep. I said I'd buy Andy a coffee on Sunday, which I did, and to be honest, all was well, but I understood where Geoff was coming from. During the week Geoff called Andy to discuss the matter and, to be frank, there was nothing to discuss, all was fine, all was well, it wasn't a problem.

Sheree's Tearoom where Andy enjoyed a vegan cake

But all WAS well. Andy had his vegan cake and his coffee, I had a pot of tea and some Victoria sponge, we sat and chewed the fat, it was really pleasant, talking about food and drink and stuff. I told Andy I could happily spend the rest of the morning sitting there chatting, we almost did order another drink, but just before 1000hrs we headed home. The rain had stayed away, it was still a little overcast, but I figured I'd get home without a soaking. I was almost right. All was well for most of the 269 but when I reached the Beech Farm Road area there was a short-lived shower. I remember thinking it was pretty light, nothing seemed to be getting overly soaked and by the time I approached the downward slope ahead of Slines Oak Road it had all but stopped. I carried on along the Limpsfield Road and still it was not a problem, but once I'd hit the back streets approaching the church it started. Full-on rain, a big downfall. I took shelter under a tree in the churchyard for all of five minutes and then started thinking (as it eased off a bit) that I'd head down Church Way and all would be fine. It wasn't. The rain intensified, God had turned up the volume and it started to hammer down, huge stair rods, as I rode down the hill. By the time I reached Morley, turned left and then right on to Elmfield and then left into Southcote, the rain was getting extreme, it never let up and I was completely drenched. Even when I reached my driveway I was still at the centre of the storm, soaked through and standing there fumbling for the key to the garage and getting wetter and wetter. I rolled the bike into the garage and stood there for a few minutes looking out at the raging rainstorm before deciding to just get out of there, lock the garage door, stand under the shelter of the porchway and then get in the house, get changed and chill. 

Later I texted Andy, told him I got soaked through and then set about doing Sunday stuff, except that it was too wet to really do anything. I took a drive to the shops and there were huge puddles forming everywhere. I wasn't gone long, but later went to Starbucks for a very enjoyable half an hour or so. There 's a new Starbucks in Oxted and it was there that I had an English Breakfast tea and a small bar of dark chocolate (it's good for you apparently). If there was rain, it was drizzle, but here and there it might have got a little heavier, I don't know. Apparently there's going to be a lot of rain over the next few days.

On Saturday, while I thought I might have taken a soaking, I didn't. I rode to Oxted and sat in Caffe Nero with a small cappuccino (51 calories) and an apricot croissant or pastry, I didn't know what it was if I'm be honest. Is it an apricot croissant or just a pastry with a couple of apricots in it? Who knows? Who cares? I spent about five minutes in the charity shop next door looking for a clockwork or battery-powered toy motorboat and then jumped on the bike and headed home, up Titsey Hill. The whole ride was good, all 20 miles of it.

Later I drove to Sevenoaks, had a snack in Soprano's and then just hung around for a few minutes before heading home again. It was to be the usual Saturday night: Strictly on the box, I cooked (which is rare these days) and I messed up a bit. I never cooked the aubergine for long enough, but all was well in the end and then I slobbed out and watched a weird (but good) movie, The Raven on the Jetty.

The cakes have to stop, but they don't. The cappuccinos need to stop, but they don't. I was telling Andy earlier today that I'd kind of cut out the spuds. During the week I had two meals (both fish fillets with brocolli) but no potatoes. Andy said (quite rightly) that I shouldn't have stopped the spuds. He said I should have had spuds, brocolli and butter beans. Nice idea, I thought. But listen, I'll stop there. 

You'll never guess what? I forgot to post this blogpost. It was written on Sunday 29 October and I probably left it in order to find a photograph. Well, clearly I forgot all about it. Anyway, here it is, I hope you enjoy it.

The Washpond Weeble and other stories...

21-22 October: Mid-October and for the first time since God knows when, it's started to feel like October. The summer has been strange. June was good, July and August were okay and then September – and October up to now – were wonderful. I flew to Stockholm early in September and the weather was amazing. When I flew back to the UK and stepped off the plane it was like arriving in Greece in July. It was hot! And the decent weather continued. Last weekend was good, but this morning there was a definite nip in the air and I seriously started to wonder why I wasn't wearing long trousers. Admittedly, last week I was wearing a fleece, but this week, in addition to the fleece, I think I needed longer trousers. That said, once I'd been on the bike around 30 minutes I warmed up and things were pleasant enough. 

The Lobster Pot is getting more sophisticated...and pricey!

I rode the Washpond Weeble, something I haven't done for a very long time, and all was well. I rode along the Limpsfield Road, turned left at the roundabout just past Sainsbury's and then followed the road for a bit until I needed to hang right and ride past The Bull pub. The roads were clear. I never saw much in the way of traffic once I was off the main road and let's not forget, this was a non-stop ride, no Costa, no Caffe Nero, no Starbucks, no Coughlans and that meant no biscuits, no cake, no nothing. It was just a ride and that was good. In total, 12.45 miles, an elevation gain of 742ft and a time of one hour and 17 minutes. I was even given a 'local legend' accolade by Strava (meaning I'll have to avoid the tabloid photographers for a few days).

Another good thing about the ride, apart from it being non-stop, was that it was fairly flat so I probably rode faster than I might have done. Aerobically, therefore, it probably did me some good. I reached home feeling great so we drove to the beach, walked from the Lobster Pot to Old Point and back and then rounded it off with a cup of tea in the Lobster Pot before heading home. We'd had lunch there before the walk. 

The Lobster Pot has changed, it's no longer the seaside caff I remember, although it's been getting more sophisticated for some time. I would probably argue that it has an identity crisis and that customers are witnessing the changing face of the place every time they pay a visit. It's as if it's shedding its old skin slowly. It's open in the evening now, it's licensed and there's some interesting dishes on the menu, some of the main courses costing over £24. Hardly 'caff cuisine'. And yet the caff bit lives on as there are plenty of people who, like us, drop in for a snack rather than a poncy meal prior to a bracing walk along the promenade. Today, I noticed that banquette seating had infiltrated the caff space. It's as if they're doing it slowly and by stealth in the hope that the customers won't notice. Either that or they can't afford to kit the place out in one go and need to do it piece-by-piece. Perhaps if I go back in about a month the whole place will be banquette seating and the old pine tables will be stored away somewhere. I remember when the Lobster Pot was called Perdido's! They've covered up a considerable portion of the outdoor seating area too so you can sit 'outside' without fearing the rain. For me the problem they'll have to deal with pretty soon is the bathrooms. When it was little more than a hut, the two small toilets at the back were more than enough, but now there are plenty of customers (we were lucky to get a seat) I think they'll have to look at adding more restroom space.

The food's not cheap either! Over £30 for a smoked turkey sandwich, a kid's portion of sausage, chips and beans and a bowl of soup with a roll, plus three mugs of tea. That's quite pricey. But hey! We haven't been this way for a long time and it was good to see that things were more than thriving, so I say good luck to the people running the Pot.

It was good to look at all the lovely houses on the seafront too. We covered 3.5 miles in total and deserved the additional mug of tea on our return to the Pot. We drove home around 1735hrs but it took us over two hours and I can't figure out why so long. We didn't encounter any problems, no jams, nothing. Normally it's around 90 minutes tops. Anyway, we reached home around 1930hrs. There was time to chill before dinner and then I sat down with a large mug of Sleepy Time Bear Extra tea. I'd bought it on Amazon, two boxes.

Brass monkey weather!

The next morning I was up just before 0700hrs eating my usual breakfast (Alpen, fruit, tea). I headed off around 0800hrs and this time I was wearing jeans over the cycling shorts plus a jumper underneath the fleece. Yes, it was cold. Very cold. I was heading for Westerham to meet Andy at 0900hrs at Costa. The journey was just the same as it always is except that when coasting downhill, especially heading down Clarks Lane, brass monkey conditions ensued that I hadn't experienced since last winter. Not nice. Andy was there when I arrived but he still had plenty of black coffee in his cup, meaning he hadn't been there too long before my arrival. I ordered a large English Breakfast tea and that was it and then joined Andy. 

I was telling him how, earlier, I was riding along as normal when I was passed by an elderly gentleman on a pushbike. "Good morning," he said as he passed and I thought I'd try and keep up with him. What kind of annoyed me (it always has annoyed me) was that I was pedalling like a madman, he was cycling at a more sedate pace and yet he soon pulled far away from me and I just couldn't figure out why.

"He probably cycles more than you do," said Andy, matter-of-factly. 

Yes, he probably did, I thought, realising that I needed to up my game somewhat.

"Remember that time last year when we were cycling out of Westerham and I was doing a good 14 miles/hour?"

He did remember and he put it down to me being fitter because I was cycling more than I am now. In essence, I'd just have to get my act together, I knew that... and cut out the cake and the cappuccino while I'm at it.

"I need to add another ride during the week, possibly two rides," I said.

"Or push yourself a little more, tackle the hills in a higher gear," Andy advised.

He was right, but I couldn't help but feel a little inadequate and as if I had a lot of work to put in before I could even hope to stay abreast of the old man I'd met earlier.

"I'm thinking of taking up swimming," I said, thinking a few weeks ahead when the days are shorter and I won't exactly fancy riding up White Hill Lane in the dark. In fact, there's a few things on my mind. I'm going to check out membership of the local gym so that I can use their exercise bikes, possibly two one-hour sessions on a Tuesday and a Thursday, and then possibly a swim on Friday. I'll need to work something out. Park Run appeals too, but I've been injured running in the past so perhaps not. All I know is that the weight falls off when I run.

Andy left before me as I needed to answer the call of nature, but the bogs in the Costa were out of order (for the second week on the trots). There was a disabled toilet but I spotted a fellow cyclist nip in there and not come out for ages. I envisage a later conversation. "I'd leave it 10 minutes if I were you." I headed over the road to the King's Arms hotel and used their facilities and then I embarked upon the ride home resolving not to change the gears to a low setting. Before heading off I dropped into the antique shop, Castle Antiques I think it's called. I like wandering around antique shops and charity shops too, but this was the former. I found a Westclox Baby Ben for £18 and an old suitcase, both of which would have looked good on a business trip, I thought, as they might bring a touch of Miss Marple to the proceedings. There were old books, long forgotten model cars, old watches. I really did go back in time for the brief period I was in there, and then I headed for home, past the Velo Barn, along Pilgrims, up Rectory Road and back on to Clarks Lane, keeping in the same gear I'd travelled down in. Yes, I did puff myself out more than usual but it wasn't impossible. The effort was worth it and when I reached Botley Hill I felt both relieved and satisfied.

When I reached home a slice of toast and marmalade (without vegetable spread as we'd run out) was most welcomed. I made tea then had a shower and we drove over to see mum before heading east to Sevenoaks where I enjoyed a coffee and a prawn and mayonnaise sandwich in the M&S cafe while waiting for my wife and daughter (they'd eaten in Wagamama, but I didn't fancy a full-blown meal).

We drove back and now it's almost 1800hrs. There's work tomorrow, but the stress is off (for a while). I say 'a while', it'll be back very soon.