Sunshine after the rain...

Kona Scrap reunited with Andy's Kona Blast, Tatsfield Village

Saturday 13 December: There's been a lot of rain on a daily basis of late, prompting me to consider rejoining the gym. It's that or buying a stationary bike. Rain often means no riding, but last week, last Sunday to be precise, I decided it was time to find the waterproofs and get out there. Oddly, on my outward ride (to Sutton) there was no rain and I started to feel a little disappointed. What's the point of donning the waterproofs if it's not going to rain? Well, I needn't have worried as the return journey was wet. Very wet. I'd cycled over mum's way, or rather where mum used to live. Now, she's in a home, which is very depressing on so many levels, and I was going to visit her. It was lunch time when I got there and around an hour later the rain had started and it was really coming down. Half of me was thinking, great, I can take full advantage of my waterproofs. The other half was thinking, fuck, it's raining and I'm going to get soaked, But I didn't get soaked. I followed the same route home as the one I took out and when I got home I felt remarkably fine. Alright, I was wet and this I can never understand. I hadn't been soaked through by the rain, but my clothes were wet, mainly, I'm guessing, from sweat. So I peeled them off. The only item of clothing that had been soaked was my socks. I was wearing these waterproof fell running shoes and, while they were waterproof, they hadn't kept my socks away from the driving rain. The key thing was getting out there. For the past few weeks I've been riding only on a Sunday. My usual Saturday ride to Oxted I haven't been doing of late either because of family needs (Christmas shopping excursions) or because of inclement weather. I hate the rain and will avoid it if possible, it's the last thing I want to do, but after a while, when I realise that it ain't going to stop, I bite the bullet.

That was last Sunday (I think 7th December). It's now 13th December, a Saturday, and there was sunshine. It wasn't that cold either so off I went on a non-stop ride up to Botley Hill then right towards Woldingham and home. Coming up the steep end of Slines Oak Road where it joins the 269 there was a lot of traffic and I knew that if I lost momentum I'd have trouble getting started again. Sure enough I was forced to put my fee on the tarmac and then spent an age trying to gather enough momentum to get going. Evenually, I managed it and the rest was easy.

Tomorrow I'm planning a ride to Tatsfield village to meet Andy, it's now a regular ride to Sheree's Tearooms for a pot of tea. I'll be leaving at 0800hrs on the dot and I'll be on the Kona. The weather is looking fine, perhaps not as sunny as today, but no rain (or at least I hope not).

After a cup of tea Andy took a photo of the two bikes together. They hadn't seen each other for some time but now they were reunited. Both bikes had been on many adventures together, all of which are documented on this here blog. Check it out as both machines have been travelling the planet, or our little bit of it, for as long as this blog has existed and now here they are together again close to the bus stop in the centre of the village where they often sheltered from the rain and wind waiting to take their owners home.

To Tatsfield Village...

 My last couple of rides have been more exhilarating than the many which have gone before; I don't know what it is, I feel lighter, I stand up on the pedals and swing the bike from side-to-side on the inclines, more so than I have been doing of late. I figure it might have something to do with losing a bit of weight or being on a slight downward spiral with my weight that has made me lighter and, therefore, more energetic and inclined, perhaps, to ride faster. Today was a great example of this new thing: earlier this morning I'd received a text from Andy asking me to get there on time as he had until 0930 before he had to ride to Sidcup in South East London to see his mum. These days, Andy rides everywhere, no journey is too far. I found myself thinking how he must be saving a fair bit of money through not driving or taking buses and trains. I should at least be riding three times a week, but I'm not, I'm back to riding twice a week, which needs to be upped, by at least one ride.

Library image of the village pond in Tatsfield...

But getting back to today's ride. I left the house around 0755hrs and reached Tatsfield Village by 0850, Sheree's wasn't even open and Andy nowhere to be seen. For me this was great: I'd beaten Andy to Sheree's and I was feeling good. The truth of the matter is that I've been laying off the bread, just two slices per day, no more. In the past I could easily consume six to eight, possibly even 10 slices per day with honey in the morning and possibly Marmite (or more honey or even marmalade) in the evenings. So I'm feeling good about myself and I'm reluctant to bring out the scales just in case I haven't lost any weight. That realisation would be disappointing, demoralising and depressing, the three Ds.

At Sheree's we sat outside in the early heat of the day, Andy with his soya latte and vegan almond croissant, me with nothing but a pot of tea and a small Biscoff-like biscuit. We talked about Andy's trip next year to Stonehenge and the Isle of Wight and again I found myself thinking how he sure gets around on two wheels. Nothing phases him. I started thinking of my own holidays and how, going back into the distant past, I used to go on two-week vacations and it would only cost around £1,800 quid, plus a bit of spending money. These days nobody goes away for a fortnight anymore and I found myself wondering why that would be, but not for long. These days it's just a week and it costs around three to four grand! Unless you go to an Air BnB villa but the costs still mount him, the good old days have well and truly left the building. Andy says you have to take into consideration inflation and he's right. I'll admit I never did consider it although of course it's part of the problem. I have trouble parting with such a huge sum of money for what ultimately becomes a few snaps on my iphone that eventually get deleted and then the memory fades and I'm left with nothing but a debt. Admittedly (as I've said many times) most people save for their holidays, put down a small deposit at the beginning of the year and that way the horror of parting with so much money is spread over a number of months. But not me. I suddenly go on holiday on a whim and have to pay the full tariff, no discounts. I start to feel miffed about this and sometimes forget about a holiday altogether although, having not had a vacation since 2019 when I went to the USA (not really a holiday it has to be said) I am now in dire need of one. I often look at passing fields from a train or even neatly manicured lawns as I pass them by on the bike and imagine myself on a deckchair just relaxing, reading, listening to the radio, anything but what I seem to be doing all the time: thinking about work or fretting about something or other. I need some downtime, especially at the moment with everything else that's being going on with mum (see previous posts).

Anyway, enough of that. I'm looking at taking a week off, very soon. Places like Spain and Greece have been bandied around and it looks as if finally we'll get away and I'll be able to sit by a pool somewhere chilling out. I'm planning on leaving the iphone at home to avoid the temptation of looking at my email, I want to be totally cut adrift from it all for one week, just soaking up a few rays, eating decent food (I always eat decent food) and just doing bugger all without spotting an unread WhatsApp message.

Whenever I watch a holiday ad on the TV it always seems alien to me, not something I do, a world inhabited by other people with little to do. 

It's been a very hot day today. The ride was early enough in the morning not to be unpleasant and when I reached home I chilled in the garden, drinking tea and just relaxing before a trip to a place called Ightham Mote where a cappuccino and a cookie was most welcomed followed by a tour of the house, which, even if I'm not the sort of person to enjoy trips around National Trust properties, was of great interest, being in a place that's been around since 1330AD and probably earlier. To be honest, though, I much prefer the cafes, the almond croissants, the carrot cake, the coffee and walnut cake, the Cornish pasties and so on, those and perhaps a walk around the grounds where I don't have to listen to some guide telling me about the life of one Frederik Von Hausen, a fictional character I invented who sums up the sort of people that used to own these impressive pieces of architecture that are dotted around the United Kingdom.

I'm now sitting indoors blogging. I'm kind of glad I'm doing this as I haven't been writing a great deal of late and I need to get back into it.

I didn't realise that Andy has a tattoo, which is mildly embarrassing as I started dissing people with tattoos only to discover that Andy had recently had one done in memory of his wife Marcia. I felt a bit of fool it has to be said. Some years ago now Andy and I used to have a joke about dissing the pope only to discover that he was standing right behind us. It was kind of like that, but Andy having a tattoo is a one-off, he's not planning a sleeve or any unsightly tattoos on his calves or chest, which is good to know. Basically, Andy's not the sort of person to have a tattoo, that's why I felt safe dissing people who do, but I was wrong and I'm sure he forgives me.

This and that...

Met Andy on Saturday at Sheree's Tea Room in Tatsfield. We chatted about many things, but the best part of the conversation was when we talked about Andy's school trip to, well, everywhere by the sounds of it. He took a boat across the Bay of Biscay in a storm and in the same boat went to the Azores, although Andy couldn't remember much about the Azores, a place I'd like to visit. I wonder if you can go on holiday to the Azores? Probably. On the same trip, Andy went to Morocco and, well, sounds like it was a great trip if you ask me.

Andy and I had been chatting about travelling by train through Europe to Spain and that's how we got on to the Bay of Biscay and Andy's school trip. I had been planning on a business trip to Barcelona and during my research discovered that there was only £200 between flying there and taking the train. Unfortunately, the trip had to be cancelled (or rather postponed) but it'll be back on the agenda in September and my plan is to take the train. Andy's already made the journey.

Andy-related stuff has kept me going this weekend. I'd admit I'd forgotten he was going to tackle the Dunwich Dynamo, a 120-mile free ride from Hackney in London to Dunwich on the Suffolk coast - at night time. The ride goes through the night and Andy tells me he finished around 0400hrs, adding that it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Miraculously, he rode on from Dunwich for 30 miles, presumably to where he was planning to spend the night, but what a guy! Well done, Andy. I can't wait to read about it on your blog.

My ride to Tatsfield had been fine, a little bit of fine rain (or was it moisture from the early morning fog?) but generally the ride was great. As always, Andy was there before me but I'm guessing just before me as his coffee had yet to be delivered to the table. I ordered a tea. Andy said that Sheree had forgotten to order his vegan pastry - shame on her! - but all seemed well. Andy said Sheree's Tearooms was sanctuary and I know just what he means. In many ways it's a strange place, full of crazy teapots and gift items, like scented candles and soft toys, but it's great place for a much-welcomed pot of tea after a bike ride, albeit a short one of around eight miles.

Ken, one of Sheree's regulars, was there wearing, it has to be said, a great shirt. He's in his eighties but he's still looking good. The place was very different on a Saturday. We're normally there on a Sunday when things are fairly peaceful, but on Saturday there are lots of people around buying their shopping, plenty of chit chat and general bustle, which livened the place up a little bit. I ordered a second pot of tea and another latte for Andy and we sat there chatting before heading off - Andy preparing for the Dunwich Dynamo and me just going home to prepare for visits to see mum in hospital. There's nothing wrong with her, but she's being kept in to build up her strength and deal with frailty issues. 

... and now it's almost a week later. I've been at work all week (nothing new there!) but today I was in London for a lunch with a colleague from Germany. Olivo in Eccleston Street was good, but this was a business meeting and it went well. We discussed next year's conference (the one I organise every year). The conference in question takes a lot of work and I've started early trying to pull together a programme. It's going to mean some trips to get everybody on side (not that anybody isn't onside). But enough of work talk. I left the restaurant around 3pm and there was no point going back to work.I can't remember what time I reached home, something like 5pm or 5.30pm. I went to Coco & Nut for a cup of tea and some banana bread and then walked home. Right now I'm watching the French Olympics opening ceremony, it's quite impressive and there are some very arty bits in between the parade of athletes on boats on the Seine.

I was going to see mum in hospital, but I'll be there tomorrow and people have been up to see her today. She's doing alright according to reports on WhatsApp.

The weather has been good today, but generally not brilliant. It's easily been the worst summer for some time.

I'm currently reading Sonic Life by Thurston Moore, better make that I'm still reading Sonic Life, it's a big book but a good book, lots of interesting insights about the band and the US no wave scene in New York in the seventies and eighties. When I finish it, I'm planning on doing another A-Z challenge, reading a book for every letter of the alphabet from A through to Z. It's a good exercise as it introduces me to new novelists; not new in the sense that they've just written whatever it is I'm going to read, but new in the sense of new to me. One of the rules is that I'm not allowed to read any author I have read before - and believe me that leaves me with plenty of choice! For my letter A I'm thinking about Eric Ambler, but nothing is set in stone yet. I'm not allowed to listen to anybody's recommendation and it has to be a totally random exercise. That said, I do have a book that I'm allowed to use as reference, the Rough Guide to Cult Fiction.

Anyway, I'm off to read Andy's blog about his mammoth ride, that of the Dunwich Dynamo. Andy will be back at Sheree's on Sunday so I'll be looking forward to seeing him.

To Tatsfield...

Sergey Rachmaninov's 10 preludes Op. 23 (no 6 in e flat major) as short as it was, started off my Sunday morning breakfast, although, if I'm really honest, it was a boiled egg and soldiers. I'm off on a ride to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy at Sheree's, which is shaping up to be our new venue. It's almost Christmas and I guess the reason is, well, not really festive, but just cosy and friendly. The people who run the place make the whole experience welcoming. The place is festooned with impossible teapots and scented candles and other fripperies; it's also a shop selling newspapers and groceries, but it looks out on to Tatsfield's village green and pond and the whole thing is very English - and the perfect place to chill after a shortish eight-mile ride in the winter air.

As I write, there is around 30 minutes until take-off and I'll be riding the usual route. There is no rain. At least I don't think there is as yesterday's weather forecast had a sunshine icon blazing out from the computer screen, which was extremely heartening. I need sunshine and brightness and so does Andy. We have both experienced loss in recent days: my sister and Andy's wife and I would say for both of us we need distraction and the best diversion, perhaps, is cycling. Andy said he was using cycling to keep his mind intact and I've said many times in previous posts that there's much more to cycling than fitness. It provides time to think and to zone out and deal with the problems life throws our way.

Sheree's Tearooms - a place to take things easy

I've lost my sister and Andy his wife and my thoughts go out to a man who has been selfless, considerate and self-sacrificing. He is a kind, decent and noble human being who right now is having a tough time of it and while grief is a hard one to beat, it can be alleviated. I know that my sister would not have wanted me or anybody else to be unhappy and I'm sure Andy's wife Marcia would be the same. Life goes on as they say and life is for the living, but let's not forget those who have passed, their memories must be kept alive.

Tchaikovsky's Symphony Number Six is breaking the silence as I contemplate the ride ahead. There's around 15 minutes before take-off and soon I must don the fleece and the snood and head out into the garage to find the bike and then head towards Church Way and the hill that will take me to the churchyard and beyond. As I speak church bells are ringing out from the radio and they remind me of my childhood when the bell ringers of St. Philomena's broke the morning silence as I lie in bed awaiting breakfast cooked by dad and it would have been similar to what I've just eaten: a boiled egg and soldiers and tea with the accompaniment of Radio Four's Today Programme coming from dad's tiny transistor radio.

The ride was good, but windy on the outward journey and while I was wearing a heavy fleece and a jumper and tee-shirt, so three layers, it still penetrated and made me wonder if I'd bothered with the jumper. I checked when I reached Sheree's and yes, I had it on. But the weather was good and that hard headwind that had hindered me slightly heading out, was gone for the return journey. I followed the usual route along the 269 and all was well and now I'm home and feeling exercised, which is good.

Andy and I chatted for over an hour over a couple of soya lattes and two pots of mint tea with a couple of Biscoff biscuits thrown in for good measure. Sheree's, we've both realised, is a great place. It lacks the corporate tinge of Costa and it's far more relaxed and friendly. There are no queues for complicated drinks and the vibe is slower and far more cosy than any of the national coffee chains. Remember, you can't beat an independent operator. Andy visited Sheree's on Saturday much to her surprise. "I thought I'd got me dates wrong!," she said, as she normally expects to see us on the Sabbath and that's what's great about this fantastic teashop, they expect to see us! They know we're going to be there and, of course, we are. I asked if she's open on Boxing Day and the answer was no, they're not; had they been we would have been there, but as it is we'll he heading for Westerham and the corporatism that is Costa Coffee.

Norfolk Nobbler, Westerham, Bon, mum, Bez's book and chilling for Easter...

Hard to remember when I last went on a ride, but I think it was Westerham and it seems like weeks and weeks ago. My fitness has been hampered by illness and by travel. On the latter, a flight cancellation put paid to a ride a few Saturdays ago to Oxted. In fact, I can't remember the last time I sat in Caffe Nero chilling ahead of massive climb up Titsey Hill on the return ride home. Then there was illness. But you know about that as I wrote about it in the last post on this blog. So what other excuses do I have? Oh yes, the weather. Rain stopped play too and if you put it all together - travel hassles, weather and illness - it adds up to no riding and very little in the way of fitness, bar a few walks of around three miles each while at work, but that kind of didn't count, although I suppose it does, so, yeah, it's been odd not riding. The trouble, of course, is that once you start slobbing, it becomes addictive and soon you start not wanting to go, preferring instead the warmth of the house, the glow of the laptop, the comfort of the Hot Cross Bun - make that two, alright, three in the space of 24 hours. Because, yes, with slobbishness there is food, normally rubbish food, like cakes and chocolate, they all go hand-in-hand and soon, while I berate myself constantly while lying in bed at night, promising that today - or tomorrow - there will be no more cakes, no more chocolate and no more cappuccino, the opposite is true and I find that rather than eat less rubbish, I eat more.

When I had a cold a few weeks back, I started to go to bed early. Too early. I used to wake up around midnight in the spare room, the house in darkness, everybody in bed, and me looking out of the window at the street light in Ellenbridge, wondering what time it was; and then finding out by looking at my iphone - it was midnight thirty. Should I brazen it out, lie in bed until I fall asleep? Or get up, trot downstairs, make a herbal tea or a Lemsip, perhaps watch some television? In the end I would reach a compromise and perhaps nip downstairs (as opposed to trotting) to get a glass of water and then return to the darkness and try to seek out the Land of Nod. I'd oversleep, rush breakfast in the early morning, make sandwiches and head off to work with a wodge of paper tissues in my coat pocket. It wasn't severe enough to be off work and it wasn't COVID and soon it was Saturday and I didn't feel up to riding the bike. Fair enough. 

Easter Sunday morning in Westerham

It's been a good two weeks since I shook off the cold, but I'm still finding it difficult to pluck up the motivation to exercise. I've done a couple of work-outs using a set of dumbells (50 reps) but not regularly. "Right, let's do this," I might say to myself, but then realise that two days have passed since the last time I picked up the weights. 

I am writing this on Good Friday. It's just gone 6pm (1800hrs) and there's a programme on TV about King Charles and his relationship with Prince Harry. It's pointless. We all know why they're at loggerheads and, to be frank, we don't care.

This morning I did go out on the bike and I did a work-out on the dumbells when I returned. I thought I'd try the Norfolk Nobbler, a round-the-block hilly jaunt that is around six miles. But it wasn't six miles, it was nine miles and I couldn't figure out why. It took me 51 minutes and it was a good work-out. I thought that I'd followed the route of old, but clearly I hadn't, I'd added a couple of miles and I couldn't figure out how. I think that when I last did it I just rode one circuit, no repetition. This time I went around the loop and back up Norfolk and around Ridge Langley a second time, something I distinctly remembered doing the last time, but for some reason I'd somehow added two miles. It's bugging me now as I write this: how come it was almost nine miles instead of almost six miles (something like 5.94 miles). I just don't get it. I always went around Ridge Langley twice and then down Arkwright towards the Upper Selsdon Road, left and then up West Hill, passing Barnfield, riding the length of the Ridgeway, left on Arkwright and then home via Elmfeld and Ellenbridge. So how come I was out for 51 minutes and not the usual 38 minutes? It's a mystery and tomorrow I'll check it out again, perhaps just riding one circuit and taking it from there. I suppose the good thing is I rode nearly nine miles and not nearly six, so I guess I did myself a small favour.

The weather was fantastic today and most of last week too, so perhaps (at last) things are starting to pick up. Last week I wanted to ride to work, but just couldn't motivate myself to do it. One day there was a frost on the ground so I gave that day a miss, but I reckon that things will start to get warmer and soon I'll be able to return to four rides a week (which is all I need to lose a bit of weight). Look, I'm not a fat arse, but I'd like to lose around a stone, perhaps a bit more. 

On Saturday I went over to see mum and meet up with Bon, who I haven't seen a great deal of lately because he's moved to darkest Sussex. Bon hasn't been on his bike for a couple of years because he's had other stuff to contend with, like moving home, so I suggested we meet up later in the year when the weather really improves and ride from his place to the beach for lunch at the Lobster Pot. I can get the train to Pulborough or drive down with the bike in the back (I think that'll be the best option).

To Westerham!

The ride with Andy has been game on for some days now. I texted to say I'd definitely be there and so, at 0800hrs on Easter Sunday I headed off. It was touch and go that I'd actually do it because there was a family get-together at lunch time in Oxted and the table was booked for noon. I knew that if I left Westerham at 1000hrs I'd get back for around 1100hrs, giving me enough time to shower and be ready for the drive to Oxted. But, as often happens, it didn't work out that way. I finally got underway around 1025hrs meaning that I'd be home around 1130hrs and would have to rush to get ready. I considered simply riding from Westerham to Oxted (around 3 miles, possibly a little more) and then hanging around until noon and joining them in the restaurant, but that would have meant being unshaven and stinking of sweat, although I thought about it: I could nip into a chemist and buy some underarm deodorant and freshen up in the public toilets in the car park behind the high street. Had I brought some trunks with me (why would I bring swimming trunks on the ride?) then I could have enjoyed a brief swim and a shower in the Tandridge Leisure Pool and then things would have been find. I would then have to ride home, up Titsey, after a three-course meal, not that I couldn't handle it.

When I reached Westerham, Andy was already there, drinking coffee in the seat by the window. The weather was amazing. Sunshine and blue skies, daffodils in bloom, and I parked up outside next to Andy's Blast. I ordered an English breakfast tea, took a leak and then joined Andy. We talked about cycling holidays and the notion of cycling around the Canary Islands. This was something Andy would like to do, but it's more of a pipe dream than anything else. That didn't stop us discussing how it would materialise being as Andy's in to cycling he whole way, ie from the UK. So, a ride to Portsmouth, pick up a ferry to Santander and then cycle to Cadiz to pick up another boat to the Canaries. It wouldn't be cheap and we figured the whole trip would take around a month, but what a trip. I found the entire conversation uplifting and soon it was time to ride home, but I just knew I wasn't going to make it in time for the family lunch and started to wish it have been booked for 1230hrs instead of noon. But hold the bus, never say never. I put a spurt on, having left Westerham at around 1025hrs and managed to reach Botley Hill at just before 1100hrs. I called home and suggested that I could either head down to Westerham and wait for everybody there or ride home, knowing that I wouldn't get there much before 1130hrs. Why were they planning to leave at 1120hrs? The table was booked for noon, that would mean 40 minutes. It's only a 10-mile ride and the 269 is 'national speed limit applies' so I figured they could leave around 1140 and still be there on time. I decided to go for it and sped home along the 269 through Warlingham and beyond towards Sanderstead. I was pushing it and managed to reach home around 1130. It was a case of going straight into the shower, changing and then driving back in the direction I'd already come from and as a result I started to feel a little light-headed. Note to self: never rush things. When we reached the restaurant I decided the best course of action was to drink a lot of water and fortunately they plonked a huge bottle of the stuff next to me. I drank the whole bottle and then ensured there was another one ready, which there was. I started to feel better. That said, a brief word on rushing around on a bike: don't do it! Right at the end of the ride (apart from feeling a little light-headed, which itself wasn't good) I nearly came a cropper by riding in front of an oncoming car. I like to think that I was aware it was there, but perhaps I didn't, I can't remember. It wasn't as bad as think it was (at least I don't think it was) but I remember seeing the woman sitting in the passenger seat wondering what the hell I thought I was doing. She was right, I was wrong, but disaster wasn't so much averted, it was kind of just about avoided.

The bike has been performing well and I need to reward it by providing another new tyre, like the one on the rear, and one of those gel-based inner tubes. The tyre on the back I bought from Halford's and it wasn't pricey, just around £13. It's not a huge mountain bike tyre like the one on the front, but something more suitable for tarmac roads.

Well, it's Easter!

The lunch was perfect. I chose the 'roast of the day', which was pork, and it was perfect. I rounded it off with a tiramisu (yes, I know) and then we all drove back home. I spent the rest of the afternoon either sleeping, reading or watching Columbo on the television. I'm reading a book by Bez (Mark Berry, a former Happy Monday). Actually, I say 'former' but they're still going strong. It's a great book, very inspiring and it led to me watching Bez interviews on YouTube until 2300hrs. I hit the sack just before 2330 and then woke up around 0430hrs. I must have nodded off because when I next looked at the clock it was 0730hrs and I was alone in bed. I could hear breakfast television and decided I'd get up and have breakfast. It's now 1528 but I've been lazing around all day doing nothing and only now am I considering some kind of outdoor activity, like a walk.

We wandered around Oxted as the last rays of Easter sun shone upon us as we looked in to shop windows. Costa was open until 1700hrs. Everywhere else was closed so we went in and ordered a pot of tea and then simply sat there for around 20 minutes and chilled. And now it's almost 2030hrs and I'm still chilling.

Buzzin' by Bez

I'm finding Bez's autobiography - Buzzin' - an inspiration. One chapter to go and I'm wishing there was more. The guy is simply amazing on so many levels, somebody I'd definitely have on the guest list of my dream dinner party. Not only a leading member of the band Happy Mondays, but a close pal of former Clash frontman Joe Strummer. I loved reading about Bez and Joe and pals sitting around Joe's camp fires and I'm glad to read that Bez has carried on the whole camp fire thing at his place in Herefordshire. Bez is a keen beekeeper and he likes the idea of free living outside of capitalist society, he believes in urban farms and growing his own food. While you could say he started off as a bit of a chancer and a blagger, he has become this amazing person who is always positive about life, a true inspiration. So I'm feeling fairly buoyed up by Bez and meeting Bon and the sun going down over Oxted and that great, uplifting conversation with Andy on Sunday morning, Sunday lunch with the extended family and all is good with the world.

Andy out of hospital and on the road to recovery

I managed to speak briefly to Andy yesterday night while in the car park outside of East Croydon station. Not the ideal place to have a telephone conversation, so we agreed to talk the following day. I found myself in Knole, a National Trust property in Sevenoaks, Kent, and called around lunch time, having not enjoyed a sausage bap nor a 'cappuccino' that was nothing like those for sale in Costa Coffee or Caffe Nero.

Andy (right) on an early NVL ride

Andy got out of hospital yesterday and while he sounds relatively okay on the telephone, it's clear he's been through an ordeal. He told me his story. He came off the bike after riding over black ice and landed with a bang in the middle of the road. When he tried to pick up his bike, he realised that he was badly injured and once the adrenaline had worn off in a lot of pain. A man who was driving a car behind him stopped and asked if he was alright. He wasn't. It was not a case for dialling 111, but 999 and while the ambulance people told him to allow for up to a two-hour wait, it was there within 20 minutes and Andy was given gas and air and morphine to alleviate the pain, which completely disappeared.

At East Surrey Hospital near Redhill Andy underwent various tests including a CT scan and soon it was clear that he needed an operation. Plates and screws were needed to mend what turned out to be a broken hip bone and now he has been told no cycling for at least two months. He's off work and needs to inject himself with blood thinnners for the next six months to keep his blood thinned. My mum had to do the same after her hip replacement operation back in January 2019. Andy, incidentally, was almost given a new hip, but it wasn't necessary, he told me.

It looks like a long and frustrating journey back to good health, but if Andy puts the same determination into his recovery as he has his cycling then I see no reason why he won't be fit enough on 21 June when he plans to ride well over 200 miles in a day to Bodmin in Cornwall. That's his goal now: to make a complete recovery by the summer solstice. I have every faith in him doing that. It means, of course, that I'll be riding to Costa Coffee in Westerham alone for the next few weeks as Andy nurses himself back to good health. I'm hoping to drop round one day to say hello, but it's best to let him recover a little bit first.

We had a long chat on the phone about the type of diet he'll need to go on in order to successfully ride to Bodmin. We spoke about the time when I 'ran out of fuel' on one of the Black Horse rides and how a few Digestive biscuits got me moving again, but riding over 200 miles in a day he will need more than biscuits and is planning out how to eat the right foodstuffs to get him over the line. If you want to read more about Andy's Solstice plans and what he's thinking in terms of dietary requirements, click here  for more. I think you will also find a link about how to sponsor his ride.

As for Andy's state of mind, he seems to be handling his situation admirably, viewing it, perhaps, as a mixture of bad luck and an occupational hazard of cycling (to be avoided if possible). But it's happened, he's got a big ride planned for June 2022 and his motivation is to get better and get back on the road. You'll get there, Andy, I have no doubt. Get well soon. For more on this story, click here.

Andy in hospital with a broken hip...

Andy has come off his bike and is in hospital with a broken hip. Black ice is to blame. He needs an operation and for all I know he's had it or is having it as I write this at nearly 1900hrs. We didn't meet in Westerham as usual on Sunday because Andy was marshalling for a bike race. I can only assume that he came off on his way to the marshalling point, but I don't know.

Saturday's ride to the Pop Inn, Redhill

On a text, Andy later told me he was being kept in hospital. It's now Tuesday night. I first heard of the accident on Sunday. I'm assuming he's still there, but I know that sooner or later he'll be out of hospital. He told me he'd need a lift, which is fine, but I don't know which hospital he's in. Not that it matters. Wherever it is, I'll be there if he needs a lift. I'm just awaiting the call.

Where cycling is concerned, I'm 'back in the room' so to speak. I rode to Westerham last Sunday and then I rode the Weeble on Thursday, did a double Nobbler on Friday, a ride to Redhill on Saturday and today I sent to Oxted where I sat outside sipping a cappuccino under a blue sky and sunshine. The weather was the same yesterday when I rode to Redhill and sat outside of the Pop Inn Cafe on the A23. It was a tough ride back, coming up White Hill Lane and also Tithepit Shaw Lane, but I took it in my stride and covered 24 miles. Today's ride to Oxted meant a ride up Titsey Hill, which is a long, slow, steep hill all the way to Botley Hill, but I managed it, covering roughly 19.23 miles. So, in total, without actually counting the mileage on Strava, I rode 70 miles, not bad! 

Breakfast at the Pop Inn, Redhill

I've been very slack of late so I'm glad that I'm back in the game. For a while I was getting worried that I'd lost the momentum, but clearly I haven't. I've just got to keep it up. I'm back at work tomorrow so I might be riding the Nobbler Monday to Wednesday and then a couple of Weebles on Thursday and Friday, followed by a ride to Westerham (or possibly Redhill again) on Saturday. What, roughly, would that add up to? Well, it's something like 80-plus miles, which (based on recent cycling activity) would be a result.

The weather's getting better too. As I mentioned above, we've had sunshine all weekend and I've been sitting outside eating fried eggs on toast (Saturday) and a cappuccino (Sunday morning). It's getting lighter in the mornings and in the evening too and I just hope that Andy recovers soon and can get back on the bike.

Both days were good and it was excellent just chilling, first on Saturday with the aforementioned two fried eggs on toast in the Pop Inn (actually, I found that I had three fried eggs, but I only paid for two. They were both served on toast along with a mug of tea. It would have been good had I sat there for just a little bit longer, but that nagging feeling about having to ride home was always present and eventually I paid up and left after taking a couple of photos. The ride back was fine until I reached White Hill Lane. I was going to try an altnerative route that avoided the hill, but in the end I decided to go for it and soon I found myself reaching the summit.

Caffe Nero in Oxted on Sunday

On Sunday, it was wonderful sitting outside the Caffe Nero. The skies were blue, the sun was out and I sat there with a decaff cappuccino, it was amazing. Again, I didn't want to go, but I had to, and this time I had to climb Titsey hill. I hadn't experienced a major climb for a long while, but it wasn't a problem and soon I found myself at Botley Hill and sailing down the 269.

It's still Tuesday night and the weather changed today, it's been raining. Horrible, drizzly rain. I haven't been out on the bike since Sunday morning, so that's two missed days. Not to worry. Last week I did well. Seventy miles. I need to add it up on Strava. If I can repeat last week I'll be happy and I will if the weather lets up.

Today I bought myself a lock for the bike. I've had a U-lock for many years, but the lock has frozen for some reason so I thought I'd buy something a litle easier (and lighter). I bought it from Robert Dyas in Redhill, a great shop.

As the year draws to a close...

When I looked out on Sunday (last week) there was a persistent rain and it didn't look as if it was going to stop. In days gone by, an abort text would have been sent, but because our mindset on cycling has changed, it was still 100% game on. The plan was to go to Westerham, but we couldn't remember whether the Costa Coffee was open. There was only one way to find out: ride there and see for ourselves. Andy texted the plan: whoever gets there first, checks out the Costa and then, if it's closed, sets up shop in the small memorial gardens next to the Co-op. Well, I knew it wouldn't be me that got there first. For a start, I was faffing around doing something I haven't done for some time: making a flask of hot water, finding some teabags and some milk and basically preparing like I used to for a pre-pandemic ride. To be honest, I was hoping that I wouldn't be using the flask. I was looking forward to my large English breakfast tea, and being as it was Boxing Day, I was already considering a cake of some description. But then I remembered Sheree's Tea Rooms in Tatsfield Village. I knew it was open on Boxing day so all I had to do was text Andy and ask him to meet me there. But it wasn't that easy. Andy had already left his house and, like me, would not be looking at his phone until he reached his destination.

Seasonal decorations on the Nobbler...

After all the faffing about, I was finally out of the house and on the bike around 0815hrs, so that's a quarter hour behind my originally scheduled arrival time. It normally takes me around one hour door-to-door so now I'd be getting there around 0915.

The rain continued, but I was wearing my parka, hood up over my crash helmet, and it was good. So good that I didn't really notice the rain. I was, however, wearing a pair of green cords over my cycling shorts and sooner or later the rain would soak through. In fairness, it was a slow process. I stopped and took shelter momentarily when I reached Sanderstead Waitrose, a chance to see if Andy had responded to my earlier text about Tatsfield. He hadn't. Then I set off for Westerham, heading initially for Warlingham Green and then, of course, the 269 to Botley Hill and beyond. Halfway along the route Andy sent a text. He'd reached Westerham. I told him I'd get there by around 0930hrs and he said he'd be there, which was good. I had thought about going to Tatsfield village and a cup of tea and a Millionaire's Shortbread at Sheree's, but once I knew that Costa was open and that Andy would be there when I arrived, I 'put my feet down' and continued on my way to the Northern Kent market town of Westerham. The rain slowed a little and as I powered down Clarks Lane had almost stopped.

I felt good because I hadn't aborted the ride and, as with most things, riding in the rain isn't as bad as it seems. It was fine, although my trousers were getting damper and damper, but it was nothing a bit of warmth couldn't cure. Andy was already sitting at a table enjoying his coffee when I bowled through the door. We were two of around six people in the shop and that felt good. I wasn't THAT wet either, only my legs were experiencing a mild dampness and that slowly disappeared as I warmed up. There was no queue either so I ordered a large English Breakfast tea and a Bakewell tart and joined Andy at his table. We talked about a variety of topics: decent rear lights, cheap bikes, giving up cars altogether, living a more minimalist life and the commercialism of Christmas. 

Nativity scene in Arundel Avenue

Andy left around 1022hrs I and continued to slob around for another 10 minutes before heading for home. The rain had all but stopped and I followed the road towards the Velo Barn, taking a left on to Pilgrims Lane and then crossing Clarks Lane and continuing along the next section of Pilgrims, turning right on to Rectory Lane and then rejoining Clarks Lane. I rode into Woldingham along The Ridge and then down Slines Oak Road and up the other side towards the 269, taking the steep climb at the end of Sline's Oak in my stride. It was then a case of riding into Warlingham and around the green, through Hamsey and onwards to Sanderstead.

There was a fair amount of fog around too.

More Christmas lights in Arundel Avenue

Shorter daily rides have now become a regular habit. Today, as I write this, it is New Year's Eve, 0946hrs and I make no pretence of the fact that I'm slobbing around on the lap top, but rest assured that I will be out there later on, probably after dark, riding around amidst the Christmas lights of Norfolk and Arundel Avenues. I've mentioned these rides before, they're 5.94 milers and they take around 35 minutes. I think I would be faster if I went out earlier in the day. 

There's nothing better than riding after dark over the Christmas holidays as there are plenty of decorations on display as I ride my circuit and they all add a dreamlike quality to the ride that I don't get at any other time. That said, other seasons, like the summer and the autumn, have their own attractions and I love them all.

Happy New Year to all my readers!

A few thoughts on the past week...

I've slowed down on writing for this blog and put it down to writing 'other stuff'. With lockdown it's fair to say that nothing much has happened. I've been working from home for most of the day, I throw in a walk at lunch time and then after work, which is around 1630hrs, I might go for a ride on the bike. The week before last I managed 81 miles. This past week just 22 miles, but that was deliberate. For some reason I was tired and thought I'd give it a miss, which I did. I should have gone out on Saturday, to Westerham, but instead I slobbed around and didn't ride again until Sunday when I met Andy in the Northern Kent market town. Our habits are changing. For a start, we only meet once a week, on a Sunday, but we also meet at our destination rather than at Warlingham Green and now there's a new habit: not bringing tea along on the ride. For the past God knows how long I've been humping a huge Stanley flask of hot water all the way to wherever we're going, but over the past few weeks that flask is now staying in the house. Instead, a large English breakfast tea and an almond croissant and a cappuccino and almond croissant for Andy.

But nothing else has changed. Our conversations are still in good shape. In the past fortnight we've discussed Harley Davidson motorcycles, mainly because a whole bunch of them turn up and park outside the Costa. Andy doesn't like them. I do like them. Andy says they're old man's bikes. They are. Harley riders invariably have grey hair and beards or no hair and beards and they all wear the uniform, trying to look like hard men and that's where the problem arises. They're not in America and that, of course, is the issue. You have to be in America to ride a Harley in my opinion. Over here they look out of place. Andy's other gripe is that technologically they're pretty much old hat and they're heavy and, he says, the engine and gear box are separate. Andy says they've missed a trick and that their demographic is old blokes, they're not appealing to younger riders. Andy says he'd get a Royal Enfield if he did buy a bike again. Me? I like the Harley, I'm afraid. I'd probably spend more time polishing it than riding it, but I'd have an 883 Hugger with buckhorn bars. I like 'the traditional Harley rumble' and that's really it: I want to make a lot of noise on a highly polished motorcycle.

Not quite finished, I still had a lot of raking to do and the edges

Last Sunday we discussed something a little more boring: social media, well, Linkedin specifically and who knows what we'll be discussing this coming Sunday, which is still a way off (I'm writing this on Tuesday 13 April). Yesterday I went back to the office for the day, working from 0800hrs to 1700hrs with a half hour lunch break. Today I'm back home again and will be for the next fortnight and then I return to the office for a day and things will go on like that until the lockdown eases completely. It was good to be back in the office and I managed to get a fair bit of work done, which was good and when I left I felt good, which was something.

I'm still watching movies on Prime every night, sometimes two movies a night. It's an escapism thing. I'm trying to escape the monotony of everything, which is hard. I'm largely watching indie movies, American indie movies, but I've also watched a few mainstream movies too, like The Intern with Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway and Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. It all amounts to the same thing: escapism. I sit there with my camomile tea and then hit the sack some time between 2300hrs and 2330hrs.

Our blossom tree is in bloom...

Weatherwise, things are improving. We're now operating on British Summer Time, there are blossoms on the trees and the weather is warming up, although, having said that, as I drove to work yesterday (12 April 2021) there were blizzard conditions. It snowed hard for most of the morning and stopped by lunch time. On Sunday (11 April) I managed to mow my rear lawn and managed to get it all done before the snow hit, which was good going. It's trimmed and so are 'the edges' and it's looking good. Mowing the lawn will be a major part of my life now until October. I don't mind doing it if the weather's pleasant, but we'll need a new mower one of these days.

And hopefully cycling will also start to pick up a little. The bike is fine and I've been enjoying the rides both with Andy on Sundays and alone midweek. The VeloBarn has reopened but apparently you have to log on with the test and trace app and all that mularkey so I'm avoiding it and sticking with Costa or the Tudor Rose in Westerham, the latter open for takeaways on a Saturday morning.

Not much else to report at the moment.

Lockdown, Part 36: No cycling all week - the shame, the shame!

It's Sunday morning, 0952, I've just got back from a ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard, the Churchyard Chuffer no less, not a Chuffer Bastard Womble, just a plain old Chuffer, a direct ride from here, my home in Sanderstead, to the Tatsfield Churchyard. It's a straight 16 miles, well, if we're going to be pedantic about it, 16.03 miles, and my moving time was 1 hour and 24 minutes, plus 48 seconds, not far off one hour and 25 minutes, with an elevation gain of 957 feet and an average speed of 11.3 mph. Not bad. I managed a maximum speed of 29.8 miles an hour, probably on that stretch of Clarks Lane from Botley Hill to the Churchyard, so I'm generally happy.

The Rockhopper resting at Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 16 August 2020

What I'm not happy about is not cycling at all last week; it was just too damn hot! Until Thursday when we had monsoon rains and thunder and ever since then it's been cooler. On one ride, either last week or the week before, but possibly last Monday or Tuesday (although I think I've written about it so it might be a little further back) I got to the top of Church Way and thought, 'sod this, it's too hot' and then turned back, I just couldn't face it. So, a week of slobbing, doing nothing, not even walking and when you're working from home that means virtually no movement whatsoever. It can't be good for you, doing absolutely no exercise. But let's move on: today a healthy 16-miler got me started on this week's cycling and I'm just hoping I can keep myself motivated enough to put in, say three 20-milers during the week and then, perhaps, the churchyard on Saturday to round it all off or, of course, another ride to Redhill with a trip to the Pop Inn at the other end. It takes me an hour to reach Redhill from here, but around 90 minutes to get back, thanks to punishing hills all the way. The best thing about the ride to Redhill is the lack of cars. It's probably the most 'car-less' route I take and I'm amazed I haven't riden it more often.

There was a lot of mist at Botley Hill this morning. I had to stop halfway along the 269 to switch on my front and rear lights, and later Andy informed me that my rear light wasn't that strong. He had been riding behind me coming down Clarks Lane and we met by the stairs leading up to the churchyard. I think I'm going to invest in a decent rear light.

At the churchyard we sat and chatted about the bikes and the riding and generally chilled, drinking tea and munching a snack. One topic was my old Kona, which is currently resting in my garage, but for the sake of £300 could be up and running again. In many ways I should have fixed the Kona and not bought the Specialized, but I do like the Rockhopper with it's 29in wheels, even if I've spotted what I consider to be a design fault: the brake levers are quite sharp on the inside and recently I noticed one of my fingers was cut because I'd been placing it on the inside of the lever and not gripping it in the conventional manner on the outside. But this is a very minor problem and in many ways shouldn't even be mentioned, the bike's fine. It would, however, be nice to have a spare bike in the garage and don't forget, that Kona is a top-of-the-range mountain bike with expensive forks, even if it only has 16 gears to the Rockhopper's 27.

Our bikes, Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 16 August 2020. Pic: Andy Smith

Andy was on his road bike this morning, a Giant, and he still has his old road bike AND his Kona Blast. We reminisced about old times riding to Hunger's End in Merstham and Jon's old Kona Fire Mountain with its broken pedal. Both are now gone, Bon's bike and the caff. I reminded Andy that it was 10 years ago when we visited Hunger's End on a regular basis (remember Shaving Man?) and added how frightening it was to look back at old blog posts and see how young we both looked. "It was 10 years ago," said Andy. Yes, I thought, a whole decade, and we're still riding, which is good.

I can't work out whether the lockdown is over or not. We're all still queuing and now wearing masks to visit shops, I'm still working from home and they're now saying that if you're coming back from France, the Netherlands or Malta you've got to remain in quarantine at home for 14 days. So there was a big rush to get home before the 0400hrs deadline yesterday morning. I don't think I'd have bothered rushing home, what's wrong with 14 days remaining at home, the time soon passes. I wonder how many of those in quarantine actually go down with the virus? Probably none, but it's going to piss off the French who, no doubt, will retaliate in some way or other. The French, of course, are coming up for criticism for allowing so many migrants to make the short hop across the English Channel to the UK. Thousands have been coming in and it's annoying people like Nigel Farage and other right-leaning numpties, although I kind of get their argument. These people have already reached a safe country (France) so why risk their necks crossing the busy English Channel in a flimsy dinghy, I don't think I'd bother, although, apparently, the benefits system in the UK is too generous, according to some, and that makes the journey worthwhile. I don't think I'd do it, I'd rather stay in France and be part of the European Union. In fact, I might buy an inflatable and go the other way.

I must say a bit more about the storm on Thursday afternoon because it was fantastic. I'll be totally honest and say that I have never experienced weather like it, ever! There! I said it: EVER! Everything went dark and then the rains came, full on, full pelt, driving stair rods into the lawn like six-inch nails from a nail gun, and it went on for a long, long time and was accompanied by continuous rumbles of thunder from the grey skies above. There was something deliciously cosy and wintry about it. I was working, sitting at my computer, and all week I'd been sweltering hot, sweat soaking my tee-shirt, my forearms coated with a glistening sheen of wetness as if somebody had been sitting close-by spraying me with one of those bottles used to water delicate plants. But then there was the storm, everything cooled down and I remember feeling good about life as I stared out at the falling rain and yes, I was even thinking it'll do my lawn the world of good too. Avid readers will recall that I covered my lawn with 'weed and feed' and it's gone black, but I know that black lawns matter and that sooner or later I'll have to go out there and rake it and then put down some more grass seed, possibly in September. The garden is looking good, there are new plants in the beds, the lawn's been sorted out and the canopy over the kitchen window has been painted. We've even bought a new parasol.

But it's now mid-August and while the summer has yet to leave the building and we still have the August bank holiday to go, I'm kind of sad that we (and everybody else) haven't been able to take full advantage of the summer weather, which this year has been tremendous. In so many ways, it's wasteful. All those hotels and pubs that could have been coining it, all those live events that were cancelled because of the fucking corona virus. I hate hearing the words, either 'corona virus' or, worse still, 'covid-19', but also 'lockdown' and 'self-isolate' and 'quarantine' and I'm still wondering what the world is going to do to stop the Chinese from inflicting such misery on the rest of the world. What's wrong with them? Why did they initially cover it up? Why were they lying? People are now saying the virus escaped from a lab in Wuhan and had nothing to do with the wet market. But what was the virus doing in the lab, why were the Chinese messing around with it? I personally wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them, I wouldn't put it past them to be working on a virus, like COVID-19, that basically disables the world and allows them to benefit in some way. But what are we going to do about it? I bet that's the question on most people's lips because we've already heard experts warn of 'worse to come' and I can well believe it. Being in lockdown once is bad enough, but I wonder what people will be thinking if it happens again? I just get that sneaking feeling that it will happen again and that wearing masks and social distancing and all that comes with it will be internalised by all of us in future. It's not a nice thought and I just hope there's somebody out there with the balls to confront the Chinese and sort the whole mess out. Somehow I don't think there is anybody out there, we have shit leaders the world over: Trump, Johnson, Bolsanaro, you name it, they're all tossers. In fact the three people mentioned have royally messed up in their respective countries. The UK is the sick man of Europe, the US has many many cases and no real sign of leadership and it's the same in Brazil and Mexico and I'm sure elsewhere too. I also get the feeling that Trump's going to win a second term. I hope not, but I just get that nagging feeling about it. Is Biden any good? Every time I see him walk on to a stage he looks as if he's about to pass out or is walking tall, but very carefully as if the slightest move will see him keel over and not get up. His running mate is a controversial choice too by all accounts and I feel that people are going to vote for Trump again. I'd rather they didn't, but I see him getting a second term, unless the Republicans unseat him and put up somebody else, that could happen. Sadly, here in the UK we're stuck with BoJo, a right buffoon and as dishonest a politician as you could get. We've got over four years of his government to run and Keir Starmer waiting in the wings.

I do my best to try and avoid watching and listening to too much news. Oddly, since lockdown, I've switched from BBC Radio Four to LBC, although I can't bear that awful Nick Ferrari and tend to switch off at 0700hrs. Steve Allen in the morning is fine (brilliant, actually) and Nick Abbot on a Friday and Saturday night can be very funny.

I'm still in to box sets. Last night I watched The X Files, the night before a great movie, Back Country, both on Prime and it's good to avoid shit like The One Show with its severely overpaid presenters, specifically that terrible Alex Jones. Since when has she been worth £450,000 a year (or was that the equally awful Claudia Winkleman?). They're all bad and not worth the money. I prefer people like Dr. Alice Roberts (she presented a tremendous programme on wild swimming, which I know is fairly old, but still worth watching, they put it on the other day so I watched it again. Perfect.) On ITV I've been watching Julia Bradbury's series of programmes on the Greek islands. Not a great fan of Bradbury, but she's alright. In fact I'd say she's growing on me, but that's about it where television is concerned.

I'm warbling on so I'd better stop. I'm hoping to be able to motivate myself this week and try to exceed my 88 miles of the week before last. I've riden 16 miles today and now I need around three 20-milers under my belt and a trip to the lakes to put me on track for a good week of cycling. Here's hoping!

Lockdown, Part 35: A sense of doom

During the week I read that Michelle Obama was suffering from a kind of low-grade depression linked to the 'lockdown' and a sense of disappointment at the way things are moving in the USA. Well, I'm with her on that and I think the main source of what I can only describe as 'low grade depression' is a nagging sense of doom. I used to feel that way occasionally and whenever it arose I would wrack my brains to find its source. Normally, it was work-related, like when your holiday draws to a close and the spectre of work on Monday looms large.

When the lockdown started I was full of bravado about it. In short, I was loving it. I told readers here on the blog that it was great, like Christmas. I was eating a lot, cooking a lot and cycling a lot, all good in my book. But now I'm wondering whether I was putting on a brave face, making the best of things and, I suppose, being British. I kind of believed it, though. I got into a routine. I did the shopping, I was in charge of what everybody was eating, I developed weekly theme nights on Saturdays, set up a fictional restaurant, Handel's, and I started watching box sets (X Files, Ozark, The Sinner). I used to criticise people who watched box sets. I know people who do nothing else but watch end-to-end episodes for months and years on end, it's not healthy. Well, now I'm doing the same thing and I'm putting it down to trying to shut out the reality of the situation. Outside of lockdown, therefore, watching box sets all day is a sign that you simply can't handle the reality of your life.

Redhill on Saturday around noon...

The novelty of lockdown, however, has, as I've said recently, started to wear off. The cycling has moved from being a leisure activity to something I must do to maintain a certain level of fitness and suddenly the routine of everything has become oppressive. Everything has become monochromatic, the multi-faceted aspect of life has left the building and I'm left very down. Watching television, I find that there are plenty of reminders of a time when there was no lockdown. Sometimes, somebody actually says 'this was filmed before lockdown' and then there are shots of people in coffee shops or in crowded nightclubs and it's like watching people from another planet, another time. And now it's all made that little bit worse by television advertising for holidays and hotels and the fact that everybody is thinking: Yeah, fine, but what if we have to self-isolate on our return and what if the travel company goes bust? Suddenly, nothing is simple anymore.

The last thing I want to do now is fly. The idea of sitting on a plane wearing a mask is too much. I'd happily have a 'staycation' - now there's a horrible word - preferably on the south coast, but anywhere not too far away will do. I seem to yearn for a holiday more and more these days, much more than I used to, and that's probably because I'm working at home and home has become the office and a constant reminder of being at work.

I think the worst thing is knowing that nothing is going to change, not for the foreseeable future at any rate. The whole thing has been 'normalised' and people, as we all know, keep talking about the 'new normal' as if resigning themselves to a future of social distancing, self-isolation and treating everybody as if they were lepers. Wearing a mask and socially distancing are now part of life (until they find a vaccine) but even then problems loom. While I like reading about conspiracy theories I've noticed that I'm starting to believe them, especially the notion that a vaccine might be some kind of sinister plot by 'the establishment' or the so-called 'illuminati' to kill people off, reduce the population a little bit and ease up on the financial burden of pension payments. Perhaps that's what the whole virus thing is about, reducing global population levels, and I'm starting to wonder whether I'd take the vaccine if it was offered or simply take my chances with the virus as those around me start foaming at the mouth and dying from a mystery illness while world leaders smile slyly at one another at the next G20 meeting.

That feeling of being doomed persists. In the past it was an occasional thing and when I discovered that it was connected to work or a dentist's appointment I returned to the land of the living, now it's there constantly. I feel as if I'm always frowning and definitely always bad-tempered about something.

I kid myself that regular bike rides are making me superfit, but I'm forgetting that the bike rides are the only exercise I'm getting. In the good old, pre-lockdown days, I would be walking a lot during the day, walking to and from the station, walking around the office and sometimes walking a few extra miles at lunch time; and in the evening I might hoof it to the next station up the line from where I normally board the train. Cycling was, if you like, an adjunct to all of this - short rides to the bus stop or Woodmansterne Green to see Bon, it didn't matter as I was getting loads of other forms of exercise. But let's not be too harsh on my riding, the cycling is good whichever way you look at it and life would have been hell if my chosen sport had been swimming as all the pools are closed and I'd be left with the prospect of 'wild swimming' in some rat-infested lake.

Lunch at the Pop Inn in Redhill on Saturday

This week I rode around 67 miles, as opposed to last week's 88 miles. The weather has been extremely hot. On Friday it was 37 degrees and when it came to getting on the bike I shuffled outside, hot and bothered, and managed to reach the top of Church Lane before deciding it was simply too hot to ride the bike. I had been out on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Had I forced myself to ride the bike on Friday I would have been in line for a respectable weekly total of something like 91 miles, but no, I freewheeled back along the road and put the bike back in the garage. On Saturday morning I left early for Redhill. It took me about an hour to get there - on quiet and car-free roads - and 90 minutes to get back, thanks to massive hills that slowed me down, but it was a great ride and in between I visited the Pop Inn Cafe for a chicken fillet sandwich and a mug of tea. The Pop Inn hasn't suffered, they stayed open during the lockdown as a takeaway operation and then reopened as a cafe once things were allowed to open up a little. There's a couple of tables people can't use - the Pop Inn's nod to social distancing - and when I got there I decided to sit outside in the sunshine. Lunch over I got back on the bike and headed out of town, initially on the A23, but then branching off right and riding along Frenchies Road and then under the tracks and into Merstham before heading out of town and towards Warwick Wold Road and then over the motorway, right into Springbottom Lane, left on to White Hill Lane (a very, very steep hill) and onwards to Chaldon, Caterham, Whyteleafe and the ominous Tithe Pit Shaw Lane in where, Warlingham or Whytleafe? It's another massive hill, that's all you need to know. Unlike Prince Andrew, by the time I was on the level of Wentworth Road and heading towards the Limpsfield Road (B269) I was a sweating, blubbering hulk in camouflage shorts and a bright orange tee-shirt.

When I reached home I had a bowl of Alpen and then a shower followed by a trip to Waitrose to do the weekly shop. I was feeling good.

On Sunday, the plan was to meet Andy at 0800hrs at the Churchyard, our first early meeting in months. I left the house around 0715hrs and felt the cool early morning breeze on my face as I pedalled along Ellenbridge towards Church Lane. There aren't many cars on the road in the morning and soon I was out in open countryside heading towards Botley Hill, turning left on to Clarks Lane and riding down the hill towards St. Mary's. Andy was already there. We chatted about lockdown and our bikes. Andy's gear cable had snapped, but the bike was still fit to ride. I drank tea and ate a small wrapped cookie given to me by Andy, and soon we were on our way home. I rode back along the 269, but then took a right on Beech Farm Road followed by a left on Washpond Road, a right on to Ledgers Road and a left on to Church Road. Soon I was back on the 269 and heading for Warlingham Green. Andy had already said goodbye, at The Ridge, and we vowed to meet again next Sunday.

I haven't seen an early morning mist for many months and it was good to catch one today on my right hand side as I rode along Clarks Lane and started on my descent towards the churchyard. Had I stayed on the bike I would have descended further (into Westerham). I might have experienced a cool breeze on my face and arms as the road dipped and then levelled out and the temperature might have dropped momentarily before I reached the Northern Kent market town. But today it was the churchyard where solitude and sunshine rule supreme and always have done. It's a great place, especially on a summer's day, and with social distancing still on everybody's agenda, it offered both of us a wooden bench each.

I reached home before 1000hrs and painted the canopy over the kitchen window, it needed a second coat, and now it's done and drying in the heat of the sun. The heat has been constant this past week, culminating in Friday's 37-degree scorcher and continuing throughout the weekend. It was very hot on the ride to and from Redhill, and it was hot today too, but going early meant slightly cooler air, I think it was around 13 degrees when I left the house at just gone 0700hrs. There's rumour of stormy weather mid-week and I'm sure there will be loads of Daily Mail-readers saying it'll be good for the garden, my mum among them. Hot weather has characterised the lockdown and in many ways it's been a waste of a decent summer.

That word 'lockdown', of course, doesn't really tell it like it is. In a sense we're all still in lockdown, despite the various 'relaxations'. The 'new normal' basically means that we go out to go shopping, wearing a mask, and we can only go somewhere else, like the pub, if we have booked in advance. And when we get there we find food ordering via mobile phone apps and seats socially distanced from one another. This is the annoying and depressing reality, that things are the same, but they're not the same. And then, of course, there are large pockets of resistance, like the so-called 'covidiots' on our beaches cramming themselves on to the sand and throwing caution to the wind. And let's not forget those who refuse to wear a mask, just to be stroppy about it.

In the general scheme of things, however, I don't have much to moan about, it's just that I'm getting a little fed up with the way things are, and, like Michelle Obama, I can't say I'm too happy with the way things are moving politically.

It's now just gone 1800hrs on Sunday evening, it's still hot outside and I'm sitting in the shade of my living room thinking about cooking dinner, but then realising it's almost too hot to eat right now. Perhaps I'll put the oven on around 1900hrs when things have cooled down a little.

Another week of work beckons and the routine will be exactly the same as the last 20 weeks: work, ride, dinner, television, sleep... repeat and fade.

Lockdown, Part 30: Whatever!

The weather's been changeable. There's been rain. It's stopped me riding the bike. The frequency of my cycling has dipped from six days a week to three. Not cycling isn't good, it always makes me feel sluggish, unhappy, doomed and I get a little depressed as a result. I shouldn't be like this. The less I go the more difficult it is to motivate myself, I start to find it all too much. I find myself in the garage, looking at the bike and wondering whether it's worth unpadlocking it or simply going back in the house and forgetting about everything. It happened last week. I started imagining myself riding along Ellenbridge, heading up Church Way and then riding along the Limpsfield Road and it made me feel weary. I went back inside the house and forgot about it. It's different at the weekend. At the weekend I don't have to work so I can go cycling in the morning, meet Andy at the churchyard and if the sun is shining I feel good about the world. Last week I managed three rides (Sunday, Thursday and Friday) and to be fair, I feel good about that too. Today I started the second week of riding since the bike was returned to me - or rather since I went to the bike shop to get the Rockhopper. I've decided not to fret about riding or not riding. I'm accepting that things change. The run of good weather that motivated me to ride six days a week has gone so from now on it's the luck of the draw and also whether I'm feeling up to it. I hope that nine times out of 10 I do feel motivated to get out there, but if I don't, then so be it.

Swimming in the sea...

I think the lockdown is starting to get on people's nerves, it's getting on mine. People are looking for change and it's coming, of course it is, but it's more about what kind of change and the fact that we've all got to socially distance and people keep talking about the 'new normal', which nobody wants. We all want the old normal, although I'm thinking that I don't want the cars back on the road or the planes in the sky. I quite liked it without them, but now things are looking like the old days. When I cycle along the Limpsfield Road there's increased traffic, so while it's supposed to be 'the new normal' there's some of the old normal too. But hey, the economy has to bounce back somehow or we'll all run out of money.

What annoys me about 'the lockdown' is the way it's portrayed on the television. I keep seeing advertisements showing people 'stuck at home' tutoring their kids or exercising in the living room or singing from their balconies and I find myself thinking why are they doing that? Since lockdown I've been riding miles and miles on the bike, going out shopping, walking, you name it, there's no need to be stuck indoors and yet that's the picture the media wants to portray, that we're all at home, stuck indoors and slowing driving ourselves crazy.

Wisborough Green

I was listening to LBC on Saturday and the presenter (I can't remember his name) was asking listeners what drastic changes have they made to their lives or their way of thinking as a result of lockdown. And this is something else I find odd about the media portrayal of the situation, the assumption that the experience, for all of us, has been life-changing and that whole World War ll analogy. My problem with this is that I don't think it has been life-changing at all; we've all been stuck indoors, that's all. We haven't been at war, or under siege, there's always been food around, even if we've had to queue for it, so why should we be experiencing anything life-changing? And then I started wondering how things had changed for me. Well, I need a haircut, that's for sure, but I'm not getting uptight about it. I mean it's only been possible to have a haircut since yesterday. Up until then it's been a case of leave it alone or reach for the clippers. In all honesty, I can't be bothered, let it grow, that's what I've been thinking. Who cares if it's long? I've been eating more than normal, but all good stuff. I'm buying more food than I was pre-lockdown. I get through a family pack of Alpen in a week, I'm eating lots of fresh fruit and I've started eating bread like I used to, but I try to limit myself to just four slices per day maximum. Chocolate bars are back on the agenda. I often find myself eating a Wispa bar while waiting in the queue for the check-out. That's got to stop. And I'm staying up late watching box sets, that's new. I'm now on Season Six of the X Files, I watched the whole of Ozark, the whole of Cardinal and now I'm on to The Sinner with Bill Pullman and the jury's out on that at the moment. I've stopped watching the news. And that's because we've become a one news story nation. It was Brexit and now it's the pandemic and I've started taking a different perspective on it all. I mean, with the pandemic, what's the story? There's a virus, it's bad news for some, but not so bad for others, it's highly contagious and the Government has been bungling everything as it goes along. End of story basically. And it looks as if Brexit is going to come back. There's also the intensifying soap opera of the Epstein case, that's hotting up now that the FBI has arrested Ghislaine Maxwell, and here's hoping she's going to blow the gaff on all the establishment figures involved, especially Prince Andrew. But other than that, there's little else.  I swam in the sea, that's the big news from me of late. About a week ago I headed down to Felpham on the south coast on a very hot day and hit the beach, there was nobody there (hardly). I shared the sea with a couple of people and their kid and I went straight in, without hesitation. The sea was warm and I spent around 40 minutes in the water. The last time I swam in the sea was in 2015 in Brazil, Copacabana Bay, and the following day I went down with an upset stomach. Not nice and you can read about it here. Sea swimming again was great fun and reminded me that I'd really like to live by the sea, but I doubt I ever will.

The shops are empty...

I must point out that I know people have suffered from the lockdown. I feel sorry for anybody stuck in a flat without a balcony or a communal garden, I feel sorry for people who are getting on top of one another in a small space with no possible escape, I feel sorry for those who haven't discovered cycling or a means of escape like I have. 

What I can't get to grips with is the future and how it's all going to change or get back to normal. And by normal I don't mean the new normal, I mean the real normal, the old normal, the world we used to know. I don't want to have my haircut by somebody wearing a visor. I don't want to put my name down to go to the pub.

I suppose I wish the whole thing would stop and go back to normal. I guess everybody feels the same way.

Today I rode to the churchyard to meet Andy. We sat there in the sunshine chatting and chilling for around half an hour and then we headed home, parting company at The Ridge like in the old days. I carried on down the 269 and reached home at 1220 hrs. The weather's been great today. 

When I reached the churchyard, Andy had yet to arrive...