Blind faith...

There's nothing worse than blind faith in anything, particularly 'ideology' but on a day-to-day level, technology, note how both words end with 'logy', never a good sign. I encounter the latter on a daily basis, normally when I've jumped off a train and found myself in a crowd of people edging ever closer to the automated ticket barriers. In the good old days there were ticket collectors, far better, and often I would encounter some real characters like the bloke on the barriers at Victoria station back in the late seventies, or possibly even the early eighties, I can't recall exactly. I was on my home after a hard day in the office and I asked him something like, "Is that the Carshalton train, platform 11?" His response was actually very funny, mainly because it was so unexpected. "I don't fucking know!" The humour was in the fact that he should have known, that was his job, to be helpful to 'customers', we were no longer passengers but customers, but that never rang true as there was no choice, we had to be on the train and British Rail was the only provider of the service. I used that phrase a lot, still do, but always in jest, and most people get it.

I have, of course, digressed. I was talking about blind faith and while I suppose you could say that I was putting all my faith in getting a proper answer from the man at the barrier and that, in a sense, I had blind faith in his ability to provide me with an answer, the real reason behind my sudden interest in 'blind faith' is that, last week, I was moving forward very slowly towards the barriers at Redhill station in Surrey and when I was just one person away from placing my ticket into the automated machine that would ultimately free me from the station, the man in front produced his smart phone and placed it on the clear glass protecting (I'm guessing) the scanner underneath it, but guess what? It wasn't working and the man in question was now holding everybody up with his blind faith in technology. In the end he had to give up and approach the one person supervising the situation who handed the man what looked like a normal ticket for him to place in the machine's aperture and gain his freedom. I just find people with blind faith in technology really irritating when it's plainly obvious that the analogue way of doing things works best. I hate going to restaurants where they have blind faith in technology for a reason: to save money on waiting staff. I was in Wagamama the other day just outside of Battersea Park Power Station (now a shopping mall) and the man who would ultimately lose his job to high tech was pointing out how I could order my meal and pay for it online by simply scanning the QR code on the table. I already knew that I wouldn't be doing that, but humoured him nonetheless with a smile and then ordered in the human way when prompted.

I remember once leaving the house unknowingly without my debit card and not realising until I needed it. I know how this situation arose: normally, if I break with routine, something will go wrong; in this case I'd either changed wallets or stopped putting my debit and credit cards in the wallet that carries my smart phone. Result? I've left the card in the house on the console table in the hall. For a short while my day was ruined. In fact, I thought at the time, I might as well have stayed in bed all day, but then I remembered that I had my debit card on my iphone, which ultimately saved the day. For a short while after that incident I too started using my phone to buy things until, very quickly, the novelty wore off and went back to using the real debit card, once I'd accustomed myself to having a wallet AND the wallet that now only contained my smart phone. The moral of the story? Never break with routine.

What's been happening, you may well ask, and I would have to say 'not much'. I've tried to keep up the cycling and I've started riding over to Sutton on a Sunday morning to see mum. On Saturdays I try to ride to Oxted. I've also been walking a fair bit. Last week I managed two walks home from Purley to where I live (around two miles) and the week prior (and possibly the week before that also) I was putting in seven miles a day if I walked to and from the station AND had a walk at lunch time. The extreme heat has put an end to the lunch time walks but the walk home from the station, largely in the shade, has been good as has the morning walk to the station in the relatively cool morning air. But let's make no mistake, it's been hot, very hot, 35 degrees hot and the nights have been long and uncomfortable. It's cooled a little bit. As I write this, it's almost 0600hrs on a Friday and the reason I'm here at such an ungodly hour is simple: I woke up around 0330hrs or 0400hrs, I can't remember exactly when, and found that as the light seeped into the room I was wide awake, so I jumped out of bed, made myself a cup of tea and some marmalade on toast and here I am in the living room, nobody else about.

The whole blind faith thing has been on my mind for a few days now, ever since I found myself in the queue at the barriers and was temporarily held up by the man who had put all his faith in his iphone. Actually, I remember another incident where blind faith in technology let me down. I was at a European airport, I think it was Helsinki, but it might have been anywhere in the world and it could have been further way, I can't remember. For some reason I had my boarding pass on my smart phone. Normally I have a paper boarding pass. I was at the gate with my smart phone ready to show the woman at the gate and guess what? My phone ran out of power. Typical, I thought, as she hastily produced a paper version for me.

My dad, God rest his soul, had blind faith in the government and this was probably because he spent his life in the civil service and at one point worked inside No.10. I never once heard him question the motives of the politicians he worked for or in any way show distrust of them and if he was alive today I'm sure that would still be the case.

I don't believe in blind faith in anything, least of all the government. There are, in fact, very few people you can really trust in this world and if you think otherwise then you're a fool.

To Oxted...

The heat continued but not as hot as a week ago. I took a ride to Oxted and when I left home it was around 14 degrees; in fact as I rode off I considered going back for a fleece, but it wasn't THAT cold, just a cool breeze, which you might expect at around 0730hrs. I was on the Rockhopper and it needed a good clean, but as we all know, it takes a while to get it together and actually CLEAN it. There's a power hose at the Esso garage and one day, yes, one day, I'll remember to stop by and get it done.

The outward ride was simplicity itself; it is a straight ride along the 269 to Botley Hill and then down Titsey, brakes covered. I reached Limpsfield Village hung a right and then a left and rode into town, turning right and riding up the high street. It was a beautiful day and it was good to be on the bike again. I'd been planning on leaving the house earlier than the usual 0800hrs, in an effort to get back to what I used to do: riding off at 0700hrs, but in the end I left around 0730hrs. I've even been thinking about buying myself a small flask and getting back to some of NVL's old haunts, like the Tatsfield Bus Stop and the Tatsfield Churchyard, to name but two. Today I didn't have a flask or biscuits, although, on the latter (and cakes and pastries) I am trying to give them up and, to be fair, I've been succeeding. I've stopped almond croissants and this and that, I simply order tea, English Breakfast with a dab of milk. It's amazing how much milk is wasted. I only need a dab of the stuff but the cafes always fill a small jug and half the milk then goes to waste. 

Couldn't find a Bobber so here's a tank instead!

I sat outside in the sunshine. By the time I had reached the Caffe Nero it was around 0850hrs, which was fine, I was in no hurry, had nowhere to go and it was going to be too hot to do anything. I'm reading Dark Luminosity (Memoirs of a Geezer) by Jah Wobble and I love it, so I sat there in the sunshine, doing a bit of people watching here and there but largely reading and sipping from a large mug of English Breakfast tea, not as large as my Sports Direct mug, but there you have it. There was no way I could indulge a second cup (although later in the day I would do just that). When my Nero tea had been finished I stopped reading and checked out (as I always do) the charity shop next door. I wasn't in there long because there was nothing I needed. I checked the books in case something decent had been left but there was nothing I fancied reading and, let's face it, Jah Wobble's book was all I needed.

Riding to Oxted is always blighted by the hill on the return ride and I started thinking about it as soon as I rode away from the Nero and headed down the high street. Actually, I started thinking about the hill on the outward journey and considered riding to the Velobarn instead, but when I reached the roundabout just past Botley Hill I decided to ride down Titsey Hill and into Oxted. I always forget that the uphill ride is not as bad I think it will be; once I cranked the bike down into the lowest gear and once I had passed the turning for White Lane the effort remained at a bearable level right the way to the top. I can't remember what I was fretting about as I rode up, but whatever it was it kept my mind off the hill and, as I say, it's not anywhere near as bad as I think it is going to be; soon I was at Botley Hill. I decided not to branch off on Beech Farm as the heat was beginning to rise and instead rode straight down towards Warlingham Sainsbury's and beyond, following the Limpsfield Road into Sanderstead High Street and then down Church way and home.

Sooner or later I'm going to buy that flask and start revisiting places like the churchyard and the bus stop again.

Later, in the heat of the afternoon when it was around 26 to 27 degrees, I drove to Westerham and the bells were ringing out from the church. A wedding was in full swing and by the time I reached the doors there were people togged out for a wedding flooding out of the church ahead of the bride and groom who eventually emerged themselves and were sprinkled with confetti by some of the guests. The bell ringing was fantastic and continued for some time after the bride and groom had left the church. I sat on the green in the sunshine uncertain as to what I was going to do. The heat was pleasant and eventually I decided to have an English Breakfast tea in the Tudor Rose. The temptation to eat cake was resisted and I simply sat outside  enjoying the sunshine and basically chilling, which, as always, was much needed.

There was a Triumph Bobber parked up on the green and for a while I admired it, parked there, because I love the design. To my right were two seats and on one of them there was a crash helmet. On the other sat a man with sunglasses and a white Ace Cafe tee-shirt.

"Is that your Bobber," I asked and he said it was and a conversation was initiated. I said that it was a good-looking machine and he agreed proudly. I didn't realise that it had a 1200cc engine, but it does and he told me how he used to have bikes when he was younger and used to be a bit of tearaway, riding fast and such like, he even rode the Isle of Man TT route and scared himself in places, but now, like everybody I suppose, he had mellowed somewhat and only takes the Bobber out when the weather's fine. I told him how I once yearned for a motorcycle but how I was put off when I visited my son's then school and met somebody I used to chat to outside. He was limping and I thought (wrongly) that he'd broken his leg skiiing, but no, his leg had been amputated after a motorcycle accident. From that day on I decided not to pursue the fantasy, which involved buying a Harley Davidson 883 Hugger with buckhorn bars, and I'm so glad about that as the last thing I want is to have a leg amputated. The Bobber is a nice bike and I did feel slightly envious considering the heat and the fact that he had a ride to Greenwich to look forward to. He paid £10,000 for the bike, which is a lot, I thought, but probably about right. I was mindful that I had the car in the car park and that the ticket expired at 1653hrs, but there was plenty of time, so much so that I ordered a second cup of tea (£2.70 per mug). It was good tea and just what the doctor ordered for a hot day like today.

It was soon time to go and I drove home, aircon on.