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.