The beavers are splitting and the pub's boarded up...

It was my first ride since, well, you know, the crash, and I'll admit to being extra wary on the roads. So much so that while dawdling around (on the wrong side of the road) near St. Leonard's church, I almost came face-to-face with the front end of a Lycra monkey's bicycle. Fortunately, we both saw the potential calamity and I switched back to the left side of the road, reprimanding myself for allowing such an incident to raise its ugly head.

Rockhopper 29 Sport, Tatsfield. Photo: Andy Smith.

After that I kept to the left hand side of the road, went down Hesiers Hill with my brakes depressed and generally kept an eye out for anything untoward. It's amazing how dangerous cycling really is; and how important it is to keep alert at all times, something, I'll admit, I never really bothered about. But that's me all over, drifting through life without any real cares about anything, hoping instead (and believing) that all is well with the world and what could possibly happen? Well, a lot can happen and when you're riding along on two wheels, it's extremely important to remain vigilant. I'll admit it cramped my style a little bit. I like a chat and a bit of messing around and when I had the old Scrap on the road I tended to ride it as if I was on a North London housing estate, humping it up pavements, taking wide, sweeping turns...but let's not go there.

Except we did go there. We decided to ride to the Tatsfield Village, scene of my downfall, and as we approached I shuddered as I remembered. I thought it best not to indulge in the infamous sweeping turn, especially on my new Rockhopper Sport 29, a brand spanking new mountain bike, far more sturdy than the old Crosstrail and, let's be frank, far more my cup of tea.

The Rockhopper Sport 29
The new Rockhopper – a straight exchange for the Crosstrail – has 27 gears, just the sort of range I need. It has wide bars and chunky tyres and the Specialized name emblazoned on the frame in a flaming, twirling red. The wide bars are good. Hell, the whole bike is good. It made easy work of Beddlestead Lane and I felt far more comfortable than I did on the Crosstrail.

I picked up the new bike last Saturday from Evans in Gatwick. I'd spent the entire day in and around the airport, having taken the train there fairly early in the morning. I dropped off the Crosstrail, chose a replacement bike – the Rockhopper – and then ambled back along the A23 to the Costa Coffee in the South Terminal's arrivals area. I bought a copy of last Saturday's Guardian, a cup of tea and a chocolate chip cookie and revelled in the joy of the moment: an airport, a coffee shop, a newspaper and, of course, a cup of tea and a cookie. But like most things, it was short-lived – and there was no flying involved. Cookies go and come, but earth abides, I thought, remembering George R. Stewart's book.

When the cookie was spent and the tea cup empty I checked out the magazines at WH Smith and read an article about Slade's bassist, Jim Lea. He joined Slade before it was called Slade and was a bassist through and through, having played the violin from a very young age. I've always harboured bass guitarist ambitions, mainly because I played the violin while at school and figured the four strings of the bass guitar (EADG) would be relatively easy for me to pick up. But like a lot of things, I'll never get around to it.

Soon it was time to walk back to Evans, pick up the Rockhopper, ride it back to the airport, jump on a train and ride home from the station. Rain stopped any riding on Sunday and today was the first time on the new bike. When I met Andy at the green he thought I'd put some transfers on the old Crosstrail, but I explained all as we headed towards Tatsfield Village, the slow way.

Splitting beavers and boarded up pubs...
Earlier this month, Andy told me how Beaver Water World had been evicted from its premises in Tatsfield. This week, we discovered that the Old Ship was 'to let'. I was amazed to discover that one of the pub's former leaseholders was a Mrs Gandalf. What would happen to the pub? Would new tenants (or lessees) take it over? Will it be transformed into a Morrison's or a Tesco Express? Let's hope not.

We ate our biscuits and drank our tea and discussed Gordon Brown and pensions and working into our old age in a DIY store or a supermarket. "We'll need places like Tesco Express," said Andy, as I rinsed out my cup and disposed of the teabags in the waste bin.

We rode home the slow way along Beddlestead Lane, determined to avoid the thick fog at Botley Hill that would no doubt force us off road along the 269. Fine, but it meant riding up Hesiers Hill. Fortunately, the Rockhopper's 27 gears served me well and soon I reached the top where Andy was waiting. My left knee pains slightly on uphill runs, so I'm afraid I was a little slow, but I didn't dismount, and that's crucial. We weaved our way around the narrow country lanes towards Warlingham, retracing our route past St. Leonard's Church, and then picked up the Limpsfield Road to the green where we parted company. I headed towards Sanderstead, Andy towards Caterham.

As I rode down Church Way I had a go at 'no hands', but then thought better of it. I also thought twice about taking the left and right turn from Elmfield into Southcote and then Ellenbridge at speed. Instead I rode at a gentle pace and arrived home in one piece.

To Tatsfield Village – where I take a bad tumble...

Despite the fact that it's now October, the weather still held out. There were clear skies and, as Andy pointed out as we rode along the 269, it wasn't cold.

We were heading for the Tatsfield Village – to seek cover if needed against the rain – but there was no sign of it. Overnight it had been raining and the roads were wet, but it was a pleasant morning and all was fine until we reached the village.

Our bikes just outside Tatsfield village last week...

It all went wrong when I decided to pull my usual stunt and take a wide angled turn towards the bus stop. No cars were coming, all was clear, I made the turn left and then wump! I was down (and almost out). There's nothing worse that coming off a bike. It hits you suddenly and then there you are, on the tarmac and in my case not in a good way. I heard Andy ask if I was alright and eventually I said yes I was, but the truth of the matter was that I'd cut my hands and left wrist, did some major damage to my left knee, which is very stiff as I write this and I found that the shock of the whole thing meant I simply sat in the road trying to get my act together.

People came to my aid, which was good. Andy picked up the bike and my phone and I just sat there on the road trying to pluck up the courage to move. Once the initial shock waned, I did get up and thanks to the chef of a restaurant in Tatsfield called The Bakery who came out and helped me to my feet, I began to feel a little better – but just a little bit. I hobbled, with the chef's assistance, towards the open door of the restaurant, my right hand cut in two places, my left wrist grazed and my left knee in a bit of a state. I rinsed my hands under a tap in the the restaurant's bathroom and then took a seat in the main restaurant. The chef brought me a black coffee and I remained sitting there for some time, trying to get back into some kind of zone.

The chef brought out a first aid kit and bandaged up the hand wounds and I decided not to look at my left knee until I reached home. There were two customers in the restaurant drinking coffee and looking forward to some breakfast and we briefly chatted.

"You come far?"
"South Croydon, about a 15-mile round trip," I said.

Everyone was really kind. After my coffee I bid them all farewell and thanked them for their help and went to join Andy who was outside with the bikes. I limped over to the bus stop and we had our tea and BelVita biscuits, but I was still in a state of shock when a white cab (a white 'black cab') turned up complete with white ribbons on the front; it was to be part of a wedding that was due to take place today in, of all places, Walthamstow.

I wasn't looking forward to the ride home, but I knew there were no train stations in the area and even if there had been I didn't have money or cards with me. There was only one option: ride home. Once I got started it wasn't too bad. I could still pedal like normal so I'm hoping there's not lasting damage to the left knee. I made slow progress along Approach Road where Andy told me earlier that Beaver Water World was being evicted from it's Tatsfield location. Sad news, but I was pre-occupied with my general state of health to worry too much about Beaver Water World.

We turned right on to Clarks Lane and continued towards Botley Hill and later, when we reached the off-road bit, I decided it would be safer than remaining on the roads like I normally do. Progress was slow, but not as slow as I thought it would be, but I wasn't in a good way and I couldn't wait to reach home.

No caption needed...

We went back on the road at Warlingham Sainsbury's and rode to the green where we parted company with a view to riding again tomorrow, although I'm not so sure.

After getting over the shock with a mug of tea I eventually took a shower and felt a little better. I've been bending my knee a little bit in the hope that it'll be less stiff, but it doesn't feel at all good. I don't think I've broken it; the fact that I can still ride the bike is something and I'm not in pain unless I move the leg in certain ways.

I made myself something to eat – I'm the only one here – and then watched an uplifting programme on iPlayer about the band Oasis, followed by a bit of Mock the Week, which is losing it a bit if the truth be known. And now, of course, I'm writing this blogpost, sitting in an armchair, the television off and the house silent bar the sound of my fingers tapping the keyboard of my lap top.

I've started to worry about the bike and whether it's right for me, or whether I should have bought another mountain bike.

More importantly, I need to be much more careful.