Non-stop ride, approximately 15 miles...

I'm trying to break a cycle of just one ride per week. The world keeps conspiring against me, which is annoying. I was out yesterday (Saturday 14th March). I rode to where? Nowhere! I rode towards and then past Botley Hill, then hung a right on to The Ridge and followed the road round into Woldingham and then down Slines Oak Road towards that steep bit of the same road that leads up to the 269. A 15-miler, not bad and, as I say, non-stop. I don't know, I was hoping to ride to Oxted but, in all honesty and while I know the whole thing is psychological (see last post) I just didn't fancy riding up Titsey Hill. Also, for some reason, I didn't want to be away from home for too long. There were things to do and I felt a little guilty about being out on the bike. I shouldn't feel that way and generally speaking I don't, but I felt I ought to get back and do things, boring things like taking old paint tins to the dump.Then a trip to Sevenoaks and, of course, that means going to Gail's and despite saying no more cakes, I had one of those tiny ones with pink icing. The tea in Gail's is excellent because it's made in one of those teapots with a built-in infuser, like the ones in Biscuit Love in Nashville. The pots in Gail's are small, though, and you just about get two cups. I checked out the bookshop and found two books I'd like to read, one being a book about the band Simple Minds. I was never into them at all, but the book seems interesting. Trouble was it was £25 and right now we can't afford to over spend so I left it behind and likewise a book about stoics and stoicism. I'm almost a stoic, but not quite. The reason I shrug my shoulders is because I simply can't be bothered, not because I don't care of whatever being a stoic means. It's about shrugging one's shoulders, but I don't really know and that's why I'd like to buy the book.

Those pink iced cakes in Gail's.

Sunday rolled around and I almost forgot it was Mother's Day, which means everything stops and things need to be arranged; instead of cycling I drove over to Sutton to see my mum, listening to Moving Pictures by Rush (a great album). Normally, having been in the home, I feel depressed when I leave and so I can't really listen to music. I don't know, I need to spend time realising how lucky I am and also how I need to tackle that list I keep talking about, I need to act basically (not acting, I'd make a terrible thespian) but acting in the sense that I need to tick things off my list, but first I have to write the bloody thing. I suppose I should be writing it now instead of doing this blog, but hey ho! Perhaps that what being a stoic is all about, saying 'hey ho' every now and then. 

"Damn! The local leisure centre has fallen into a sink hole! I won't be able to go swimming!"

"Hey ho!"

That's it, the ability to say 'hey ho!' rather than fret and get uptight. I don't know, I'll have to read that book and that's a fact. And the one about Simple Minds even if I've never been a fan. But I've got Geddy Lee's book to read and somebody left me a copy of The Drought by JG Ballard. I need more bookshelves and that's a fact. The Simple Minds book is called Our Secrets are the Same and it's written by Jim Kerr and Charlie Burchill with some help from Graeme Thomson. I will be reading it, of that you know. 

My pink iced cake!

It's Sunday night, almost 2100hrs and I've checked a load of unchecked lottery tickets. I haven't won anything, not even a tenner. I buy lottery tickets and then don't check them for at least three months and then, when I do, there's a bit of excitement in the air, perhaps I've been holding on to the winning ticket for all these weeks, but no, I wasn't and I never will. 

Have I ever mentioned my love of Pellegrino mineral water? No? I love it and I have one large glass left in the bottle, hold on while I go and fill my glass...well, perhaps not a full glass, but enough. I'm watching a YouTube video of this guy who's parents died and decided to buy a crofters cottage in a desolate part of Scotland. He has a cat and chickens and he's slowly doing things around the place, like taking down a car port, making a home for his rescue chickens and so on. It's great and so is the music that accompanies each video. I love videos of this nature, they're cosy and that's what I need at the moment, cosyness. I'm also still obsessed with the band Rush as they're going to be touring the UK in 2027. I'm guessing they'll be doing Glastonbury too. I'd love to go see them, I really would. Oh yes, and I still haven't bought my guitar.

One of two books I need to read!

The weather, incidentally, was wonderful yesterday. The sun was out and I felt nostalgic. I started to wish I had a flask of hot water and a couple of tea bags plus, perhaps, some Belvita biscuits. Had I been so equipped I would have headed for the Tatsfield Churchyard or somewhere else out in the open. Riding along The Ridge I spotted a fallen tree in the woods to my left and that would have been ideal as a stopping point. I might investigate buying another flask as I'm sure yesterday's weather will, at some stage soon, repeat itself.

Perhaps next week I'll manage a two-ride weekend, here's hoping. I'm also hoping that the weather next weekend will be as good as it was yesterday. If it is, I might well buy a flask and bask in the sunshine watching the world go by. But then again, I might end up in Caffe Nero or Starbucks or even Costa Coffee. Who knows?

To Sevenoaks!

Only three miles to Sevenoaks, it always seems longer.

I remember once riding to the sign that read "Sevenoaks" and then turning back. The thing is, it's always bugged me, not riding into town, so at the weekend just past I decided, kind of on the hop, that I would ride all the way and stop for lunch. When I say 'kind of on the hop' I mean that when I set off, while a longer ride was sort of on the cards I was still thinking along the lines of riding into Oxted and chilling with a book at Caffe Nero, accompanied by an apricot croissant. It was, however, later than usual, gone 1030hrs when I left the house so when I reached the crucial point, just past Botley Hill (do I ride down the hill to Oxted or head in the direction of Westerham?) I hesitated for all of a few seconds and then headed towards Westerham; and as I sailed down Clarks Lane I remembered the Velobarn, so I hung a left on to Pilgrims Lane and rode straight there. Miraculously it was open, much to my surprise, so I decided to chill with a cup of tea and an almond croissant before continuing my journey, but where to? I couldn't very well ride into Westerham (all of 10 minutes) and then have ANOTHER tea. So I pondered my situation briefly and crossed the road into the continuation of Pilgrims Lane. It's rare, I have to admit, that I venture this way, normally to visit Longford Lake, and it did cross my mind to go there and possibly have lunch in the Harvey's pub facing the famous lake. But no, there was always Malabar in Dunton Green or perhaps I could ride all the way into Sevenoaks, past the sign and into town. After a while, as I rode along Pilgrims Lane and followed the country lanes that paralleled the motorway I knew I had to give Sevenoaks a chance. The ride from the sign into town wasn't at all bad, a hill, yes, but not a bad one and soon I found myself in the bustle of a fairly busy town, so busy that I'd have to dismount and walk myself and the bike to my destination, which was Soprano's, a cafe I know and love and a place I have visited many a time. I was a little worried about leaving the bike unattended, even if I did have a padlock, but fortunately there was a table outside and the weather was fine so I left the bike leaning, unpadlocked, against a wall opposite the cafe and enjoyed the sunshine. I ordered a glass of sparkling mineral water and something called a Jerzy Piadina (at Soprano's most things involve cheese and this was no exception, it was chicken and cheese between two flatbreads with a pleasant little salad. People passed by, young couples, older couples, humanity of all sorts and I decided to push the boat out until I realised that Soprano's doesn't do desserts, it offers cake in a few varieties and instead I ordered another sparkling mineral water and took in my surroundings. The sun was shining brightly, this was a summer's day in late April if ever there was one and I found myself remembering swimming in the sea at Lyme Regis back in April 1984. I also remember snow in April 2008, which I think is documented somewhere on this blog, it's certainly been mentioned before, but remember, the blog didn't start until September 2009, over a year later.

A Jerzy Piadina at Soprano's.

Now, for some, cycling a 35-mile round trip to Sevenoaks for lunch is excessive, although it was a decision I made on the hop; for others (like Andy) 35 miles is a piss in the ocean (he rode over 100 miles on the same day I was basking in the sunshine outside of Soprano's). For me, 35 miles was a good distance and the worst bit, of course, was the sudden realisation that I'd have to cycle home. I can't say I was looking forward to it and there was no way I would be taking the train home. I set off with a happy heart and rode downhill towards Riverhead and it was there that I decided to take the A25 rather than the country lanes on the other side of Dunton Green. It was certainly busier in terms of cars, but fairly straightforward and it wasn't long before I found myself in Westerham where people were sunning themselves on the green. I was thinking of making a stop to take on board water and possibly another cup of tea and I thought I'd head for the Velobarn as it was only around 1500hrs so I figured it had to be open: it wasn't. Next stop, Botley Hill and the Sheep Shed, but when I got there I thought it best to push on and get home and so I did, along the 269 all the way to Sanderstead and when I reached home nobody was there. I sat and watched television drinking tea and a large glass of water but I felt good and I'll certainly be doing it again soon.

The Velobarn around 1500hrs – closed! 

Two rides and The Levellers too!

Despite saying (in the previous post) that I never get around to anything I say that I want to do, I did manage two rides this weekend, one a non-stop to Botley Hill and back via Beech Farm Road (around 14 miles) and then a ride to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy at Sheree's Tearooms. Saturday's ride saw spitting rain, but Sunday was great weather. On both days it was warm, which was great, and now I hear that some really good weather is coming our way - well, according to the Daily Star, which this morning is promising temperatures of 20 dec C! Bring it on is what I say.

Non-stop ride Saturday. Turning on to Ledgers Lane.

Not a bad weekend as it happens. Saw Bon and mum on Saturday and then on Sunday (after the ride and a prawn and mayo snack for lunch) a trip to Guildford, which was very pleasant.

Got back, made a fantastic Sunday roast chicken with roast potatoes and stuffing and then slobbed around watching television.

Looking out from Sheree's on Sunday morning.

My current obsession is a band called The Levellers, they're not new and were huge in the 90s, playing Glastonbury twice in 1992 and 1994. They have a documentary film titled A Curious Life which provides a profile of the band and their music and it's so positive in its outlook that I keep watching it over and over, it's also very funny. I like people who are always laughing and The Levellers and, it seems, everybody associated with them, are constantly smiling or laughing at the end of each sentence. The music is good too with One Way, their anthem, offering up something really positive and, above all, happy, which I love.

On a previous ride to Oxted.

There's also the excellent Jeremy Cunningham, the band's bassist, who is the key figure throughout the documentary. The Brighton-based band broke with the tradition of Brighton-based bands by not playing just in Brighton. Very soon they gained a major following around the UK and had the support of what used to be called the New Age Traveller movement. The Levellers are very political and their heroes were/are The Clash, particularly the late, great Joe Strummer.The Clash, of course, had plenty of political messages and The Levellers found them inspiring (and rightly so).

I'm one of those people who thrives on positivity and niceness (of which there's very little at this present time) - especially as the threat of another Trump presidency looms large. During the pandemic I found myself watching all three series of Detectorists over and over because it had a certain quality to it, not only in that it was well-written and well-acted but also because it had an air of hope and pleasantness about it. Likewise A Curious Life.

Curiously, the band never really hit it off with the music press of the time, which I find really odd as bands like The Levellers, in my humble opinion, are just the sort of band that I would have been championing had I been a journalist on the NME or Melody Maker, but then, as Jeremy Cunningham makes clear in the documentary, "we didn't need them and they didn't need us" which, while a shame in some respects, was about the size of it, but then The Levellers clearly didn't need them, they did perfectly well without them and are still going strong today; and where, pray, are the NME and Melody Maker?

I'm planning on buying a Levellers fire pit for the garden, styled around their famous 'rolling A' and also probably some merchandise too, like a beany hat and/or a tee-shirt, who knows? I might even go to one of their festivals if they're still going. The documentary, A Curious Life, was filmed in 2012, so 12 years ago, but I'm assuming all is well in Leveller Land and that they're all still going strong.

Jeremy Cunningham says he has low self-esteem and I have to say that I can't see why that should be, the guy's a genius, not only a good bass player but an artist and the man responsible for all the band's artwork. He's also an established artist in his own right and has exhibited at various galleries and that, to me, is the mark of a brilliant man. There's also an inherent kindness that makes him one of those people I'd have at my "dream dinner party". In short, he's great, and he's one of those people I'd love to meet just to chat about stuff.

The other great thing about the documentary is Cunningham's parents, clearly very proud of their son's achievements. They sing his praises from their house in Crawley, presumably Jeremy's childhood home, but I might be wrong, they might well have moved there after the kids moved out, I don't know. But the key thing to take away from A Curious Life is the laughter. All of The Levellers have laughter and happiness coursing through them, the laugh at the end of every sentence and I love that. Yes, the band had its problems with drugs and there's a particularly poignant moment when the spotlight turns on Jeremy's use of heroin, but fortunately the drink and drugs issues for each member of the band didn't happen simultaneously and Jeremy makes a point of saying he never missed a gig or anything because of a hangover or what have you; the man has class, dignity, creativity, niceness and everything good about humanity rolled into him. I would have liked to know more about how he took up the bass guitar, what inspired him to play the instrument and so on, but that's not a criticism of the documentary or the band, they're all fantastic.

A Curious Life can be found on Prime and I'm guessing that The Levellers' music is everywhere, in record stores and, of course, on Spotify.

The Levellers' Jeremy Cunningham.

Two rides...one non-stop, the other to Oxted

For some time now I've been conscious that my blogging frequency has nose-dived. There's no reason really, it just slowed to a virtual stop and only came alive when I travelled somewhere. Perhaps there simply wasn't a great deal to say about cycling. I ride the same routes, they're all pretty much the same every week and I just no longer saw the point of writing about them. I am, of course, wrong, so today, Monday morning (not, perhaps, the best time to be writing a blogpost) I've decided to come back. The aim? To write at least one post per week.

This week I managed two rides. The first, on Saturday, was a non-stop excursion to Botley Hill along the 269 but taking Beech Farm Road on the return ride, diving into Washpond Lane and basically avoiding what I consider a dangerous bit of the 269. Besides, I feel better when I'm off the beaten track and not at the mercy of some of the nutters that populate that rather dangerous stretch of road from Beech Farm Road down towards Warlingham Sainsbury's.

Last week, Caffe Nero, Oxted...

I left late, wondering why all the discipline has gone. It used to be up with the lark (it still is) but then leaving the house at 0700hrs to meet Andy on the green at 0730hrs, but no more, the pandemic changed the way we rode and we started meeting at the destination, which was invariably a Costa or a teashop of some description. Lately, we've been meeting a lot in Sheree's in Tatsfield village. Today, however, was a non-stop ride, no teashops, just constant pedalling from the moment I left the house to the moment I returned.

On the outward ride I was constantly changing my destination in my head. I considered riding to Sheree's in Tatsfield village. I wondered whether I should head towards Westerham having not been there for some time, or whether I should go to Oxted, get a haircut. Biggin Hill sprung to mind as did a simple Washpond Weeble; and there were others, like the Slines Oak Slogger or the route that takes me to Botley and then into Woldingham and home. But no, I settled on riding to Botley and then back along the 269 to Beech Farm Road, then along Washpond Lane, Ledgers Road, Church Lane and back up towards Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turn right on the roundabout and head home along the Limpsfield Road. It was a good ride.

On Sunday it was Oxted, although again I was changing my route constantly, thinking again about Westerham and Tatsfield Village. I even considered the Tatsfield Churchyard as the weather was good, but I didn't have any tea with me so I rode to Oxted where a choice of coffee shops awaited me. Foolishly I went to Costa, which was annoying on many fronts, mainly because it was on the shady side of the street. I should have gone to Caffe Nero and ordered a green tea and an apricot croissant as I will in future because there's nothing nicer than sitting outside that Nero in the sunshine for a half an hour or so before the ride back, which involves Titsey Hill. I always dread Titsey Hill and often consider alternatives like riding into Westerham and then up the more sedate hill to Botley before rejoining the 269, a road that always features on my rides unless I cycle over to mum's, which I also considered but turned down.

I sat outside the Oxted Costa with a large tea and a Bakewell tart watching passers-by and generally chilling out, but with the thought of the ride home nagging me. When I eventually left town and rode towards the hill I started working out alternatives but then started saying to myself "no, you can do it, take the hill, don't butt out just do it". And do it I did. Nothing's ever as bad as you think it is. I rode down the 269 but didn't turn on Beech Farm and soon I was on the Limpsfield Road heading home, getting there around 1230hrs. After lunch I mowed the lawn and then drove over to mum's.

Non-stop rides and other stories...

Over the last few weeks I've started doing non-stop rides, meaning rides where I don't stop for a cup of tea or a bun (or both). Why I've started these 'new' rides, I don't know, probably out of a sense of not having much in the way of time on my hands, but still wanting to get out there and 'do a ride'.

Don't get me wrong. As the weather starts to improve - and it is starting to get more pleasant out there - I will be getting back to my usual routine; that of riding to, say, Oxted, and then sitting there nursing a green tea and an apricot croissant whilst sitting in the sunshine people watching and enjoying the pleasant summery mornings that tend to come our way when the clocks go forward.

I expect we'll be here tomorrow morning. Hopefully no rain!

There are, of course, many other signs that mean the same thing. One such marker is blossom on the trees. Long before the leaves appear on more conventional trees (is there such a thing as a conventional tree?) there are blossoms that bring out the Japanese in the locality who like to stand in front of my house (and others) and simply marvel and admire the blossom tree in my front garden. It isn't in bloom yet, but give it a few weeks and it will be, it's a bit of a late starter compared to other blossom trees in the area.

Seeing a tree in full blossom is a joyful experience. As I walk down West Hill towards the alleyway on my journey to Purley station (two miles) I always pass a white blossom tree in full bloom. I'm aware, by the way, that I'm using the word 'tree' and 'blossom' quite a lot and I will go through this post later to see how many I can delete.

From a cycling perspective, seeing all these signs, these precursors of summer time fills me with happiness as I'm not somebody who particularly likes the winter months. That said, when I awoke this morning, fully aware that later in the day I'd be outside mowing the lawn, I did start to feel a little down. Why? Because I don't want to mow the lawn. I hate mowing the lawn, getting the mower out of the garage, faffing around with the power lead and the circuit breaker and finally pressing the button and moving back and forth across my rather large lawn. In fact, it's not so much 'lawn' but 'lawns' - I've got three of them if you count the front garden. And let's not forget that the first cut of the year is the most challenging. I normally start at the highest setting and then step down to around setting three before I can genuinely say the lawn is done. But no, not today. Rain stopped play. Hailstones rained down upon me and I was forced to scamper around getting everything I'd taken out of the garage back in it.Secretly, I'm rather pleased that my lawn mowing was cut short, I just don't feel ready to mow lawns and the fact that it started raining proved me right. 

What I do like about winter - apart from fireplaces and watching movies and eating chocolates and all the cosy things I've been used to doing for years - is not having to do any gardening. Because I haven't had to mow the lawn since October 2023 I've spent my time visiting genteel places like Tunbridge Wells and sitting in cafes eating cake and drinking cappuccino. Bakewell tart, coffee & walnut cake, millionaires shortbread, you name it, I've enjoyed it at my leisure over most weekends since the mower was put back in the garage three months before Christmas. Well, now it's been woken up and it won't be hibernating for another seven months - not that I want to wish my life away. I've just got to get used to the fact that over the next seven months or 28 weeks, I'll be mowing the lawn at least every fortnight.

While lawn mowing is not my favourite pastime, it is good for me. My dad always told me that my garden was my gym and that I should get out there and keep fit in the process. Personally, I prefer to ride a bike into the sticks and find a coffee shop where I can sit and read a book for half an hour and then ride home again. Admittedly, it takes time and when I get back mid-morning the last thing I want to do is mow the lawn. However, that said, after a ride I always feel particularly energised and after a cup of tea I might well head on out there and get it done. Remember, it's only the first cut that takes an age, after that it's no more than an hour if I'm just doing the back garden. I prefer the back to the front lawn because out front there's talking to be done. Neighbours to pass the time of day with, passers-by always ready with an encouraging word or two and I don't like it. At least out back there's nobody to disturb me, I just get on with it and when the true summer arrives I can enjoy sitting on the patio with a huge mug of tea and possibly a cake from the supermarket while I admire my handy work.

When the rain did stop play the lawn was three quarters done and that means it'll be nagging at me for the next seven days unless I get out there tomorrow and finish it off. That's the plan, but first a ride, most likely to be Tatsfield Village and Sheree's Tearooms and then I guess I'll have to get down to it, although secretly I'll be praying for rain. Tomorrow's ride (if it happens) is around 16 miles. Today's ride was just over 14 miles. I had been considering riding into Oxted (a 20-mile ride) but somehow I couldn't face that uphill ride up Titsey Hill. I rode to Botley Hill, turned at the roundabout and was immediately hit by a cold northerly wind. It went right through me as I pedalled north and never let up until I turned right on to Beech Farm Road. I quite enjoy non-stop rides as they make me realise that, where cycling is concerned - and bearing in mind that I've been riding the bike virtually every weekend since 2006 - I'm fairly fit and could do something silly like cycle around the coast of the UK, like Mike Carter or Anna Hughes. They've both written excellent books about their respective adventures and both are good reads for different reasons. But I figure that if I can ride non-stop for, say, 20 miles, that means I could easily double up and do 40 miles a day (at first) and then, as I get fitter and fitter day-by-day I could hit the 70-mile/day rate. I often think about it: on the road before 0800hrs, 20 miles under my belt in around 60-90 minutes, a rest somewhere with a cup of tea and then onwards until lunch time and then perhaps another 20. I could probably ride 60 miles a day without too much grief. I don't know how long it would take me to circumnavigate the UK coastline (or whether I'd ever have the inclination or the time to do it) but it's one of those things I think about at night, in the dark, in the middle of the morning when all is quiet. I imagine myself wild camping somewhere and waking up as the sun comes out, making breakfast on a stove and then jumping on the bike.

Something else I find myself thinking about in the dead of night when all around me are fast asleep is camping, sleeping under the stars, stealth camping in a wood. I often try to identify places where I could hunker down without detection in a small tent; there are loads of places. Even today, while out on my non-stop ride, I kept passing places that would fit the bill nicely. I think that if I was homeless I wouldn't be sitting in a sleeping bag in a shop doorway, I'd be out in the fields. I'd try to keep fit by walking a lot and I'd probably walk into the town during the day but sleep at night in the woods, away from the nutters who hate the homeless.

It's 2037hrs, that's just gone 8.30pm if you don't understand the 24-hour clock. There's one of those royal documentaries on the box. I've just eaten breaded cod with stir-fry vegetables and a dash of sweet Thai chilli and I'll probably hit the sack later, armed with a digital radio and BBC Radio 3, Night Tracks, a programme that comes on around 2200hrs and ends at 2330hrs. It's great.

The cold weather has arrived...

The weather has taken a turn for the worse and I start to wonder if it's worth a bet on a white Christmas. It's never worth betting on a White Christmas. It's cold. Very cold. And I keep finding myself standing on cold railway station platforms with nowhere to go. And by that I mean nowhere to sit and read or drink tea while I wait for my train. It's the same everywhere. Network Rail seem to have a policy stating that waiting rooms are old hat and if they exist they must be unwelcoming and uncomfortable. Why can't railway stations be a bit more like in the movie Brief Encounter? I want a roaring log fire. To be fair, there are some that sport modern leather sofas (I'm thinking of Purley and Merstham and I'm sure there are others) but steer clear, well clear, of Redhill and East Croydon, they're awful and I'm guessing there's some evil thought behind it, like "make it uncomfortable for the bastards". And when it's cold, of course, the whole thing is a nightmare as I end up pacing up and down the platform, killing time in the cold and the dark.

Heavy fog close to Botley Hill recently

It's so cold out there that I can't be bothered to go into the garage and fix my rear wheel puncture (see previous post) even if I need to get out there and do it as tomorrow is Saturday and my weekly ride to Oxted beckons. That said, there's a electric 'coal effect' fireplace out there with a convector heater underneath. I might switch that on and get it done. My rear wheel is a bit dodgy. For the first time ever in my cycling career (not that I have a cycling career) the rear wheel has come away from the frame TWICE! Andy says it just needs to be tightened up properly (he's probably right) but I can't help but think it's more than that, ie it's faulty in some way, but I'll take Andy's more optimistic assessment of the situation.

Andy, quite understandably, is a little wary of the cold weather. I say 'understandably' because he's not like Phil who simply doesn't like the cold, Andy's wary because of what happened to him earlier in the year (he came off on black ice and broke his hip). Last week we met later than normal at Tatsfield Village, giving the weather time to heat up the tarmac so that all would be well (again, see previous post). Tatsfield is a good place to go as it's not too far away, but far enough to be a decent ride. In terms of degrees, Tatsfield is in the number two position in terms of shorter rides, the number one spot going to a ride to Botley Hill (roughly 14 miles). Tatsfield is around 16 miles and there's a decent cafe there too, unlike...well, actually, not unlike Botley Hill, which now has a tearoom at the Botley Hill Farmhouse. In fact, all of our rides are now adequately catered for by decent caffs and, as I was saying to Andy in Tatsfield last Sunday, we've certainly upped our game from the days when we used to sit out in the cold, sheltered by a wooden bus stop, sipping tea from a flask and munching on a couple of Belvita biscuits. It's quite weird thinking back to those days of shivering in the frost, rain and sleet, watching the rain sweep in or the fog shrouding the bare trees. Not any more! We much prefer our tea in a pot, on a tray and accompanied by a slice of cake. It means, of course, that we're now spending money, roughly a fiver for tea or coffee and an almond croissant. I used to put four teabags into a small tupperware container, fill up a flask with hot water and a smaller bottle with milk and then put the lot in a rucksack and head off in the cold to wherever we were heading. We'd meet at Warlingham Green and then ride off on the 269. Today we meet at the destination. Our old meeting place is still there, but we pass it by (or I do, Andy goes a different way). In all honesty, it's better. Far better than shivering in the cold wishing for the summer to return.

Looking out at my parked bike from Oxted's Caffe Nero

The key to success in the cold is to wrap up warm. Last Sunday I think I had four jumpers on. All I need to add is a balaclava and that's me sorted, as long as I'm wearing gloves. I wear a beanie hat under the helmet, plenty of layers, gloves and a balaclava (it'll be out this weekend, rest assured of that) and then I'm fine in the cold. Andy and I ride throughout the year and while I've stopped riding to work because of the dark and the need to be extra wary of bad drivers, I'm busy thinking of ways of keeping up the exercise I'm losing. It's looking as if I'll be swimming. Yesterday I checked out the local leisure centre in Redhill and the pool is empty at lunch times. I reckon I can get there, change, swim and change again within the hour if I simply swim 20 lengths of the 25-metre pool. It's just over a fiver a swim and my aim would be to swim twice a week. Let's see. The problem with swimming in the cold weather is finding the motivation to go. I used to swim a lot, ie three times a week: two half-milers and then a one-miler at the weekend. I always feel amazing after a swim so hopefully I'll pluck up that much-needed motivation and get on with keeping fit.

Four rides, total distance covered = 71.27 miles

The signs were all there: summer was coming. Blue skies, hawthorn hedges trimmed with a flat top cut, blossoms on trees, daffodils in full bloom and, of course, sunshine. I was on the bike, I can't remember what time it was, but I know it was after 0900hrs, possibly later. I was on the 269, still not that busy even though it was a Saturday morning, but cars are noisy and so are their passengers. One car passed travelling in the opposite direction and as he passed he sounded his horn. Why, I wondered. There was no reason, unless he was simply unhappy that I was sharing his tarmac space. Who knows? Not me. And who cares? Not me again.

Cappuccino in Westerham this morning

Yesterday (Friday) I had engaged with a new ride: Botley Hill and a Washpond Weeble thrown in for good measure on the return ride, not that there was a 'return ride'. There's only a return ride when I stop somewhere, giving the ride it's two halves, the outward and the return journey, but this ride was non-stop, I never dismounted. I remember yesterday's ride for one reason: there was a tremendous temptation to ride into Westerham, but I didn't. I left Westerham for today (Saturday). I turned left at the roundabout, considering as I did so riding to Oxted instead. The temptation was, of course, Caffe Nero, but the downside was riding up Titsey Hill, so I stuck with Westerham and sailed down Clarks Lane looking forward to arriving at Costa Coffee. I was already wondering whether I should stick with my usual English Breakfast tea in a takeaway cup or opt for a regular cappuccino in a proper cup. There was no way I was going to have a cake. As we all know, I'm eating a lot of cake at the moment, one way or the other, and it's got to stop.

Lunch in Gail's in Sevenoaks. I should have left it there.

Westerham was buzzing. There were plenty of people wandering around, sitting in cafes, peering through shop windows, all the usual stuff you might expect on a Saturday morning. I rolled along the high street and parked up, padlocking the bike to a road sign and then headed on inside to place my order. I opted for the regular cappuccino and then took a seat in the middle of the store as other people were occupying my preferred seats by the window. It was pleasant simply sitting there, sipping my chosen drink and looking out of the window at those passing by; as always I could have sat there all morning. All I needed was a newspaper or a decent book, but I had neither, more's the pity.

At Botley Hill on Friday

The ride home was fine. I followed my usual route past Velo Barn and along Pilgrims Lane, eventually finding myself at Botley Hill where I decided to ride the 269 again rather than travel through Woldingham. I reached home around 1230hrs and after a Marmite sandwich set about mowing the back lawn, the first cut of the year (always a little tough). It's still not finished, but I'll complete the job tomorrow some time, it's just the lawn at the very top and the edges.

This week, my four rides totalled 70.27 miles. I had exceeded my preferred weekly mileage and felt really good about it. During the week I had a puncture. Well, Thursday I had a puncture. I fixed it there and then, in the garage, having found the rear wheel flat tyre as I was about to ride the Washpond Weeble. Initially, the idea of fixing the puncture and then going out on the ride was out of the question, but I did it, even if it did mean that I would be riding in the dark on the way back. I stopped off at Waitrose for some beef gravy (we had cottage pie) and the ride from the store to home was a little precarious as I had to balance a small plastic bag containing the gravy and some hot cross buns, but I reached home safely and enjoyed a bun before dinner. 

Friday I combined a ride to Botley Hill with a Washpond Weeble, a total of 14.65 miles and then later drove to Sevenoaks where I enjoyed an over-priced meal in Gail's. I had two cappuccinos when I should have had one and I had two cakes, one pleasant, the other not so good and I think in the end I spent something like £25. The weather was perfect and I had the day off. We wandered around the town, looking in shop windows, checking out the house prices, all the usual stuff and I was feeling happy knowing that I had completed three of my four rides. All that was left for me to do exercise wise was to ride to Westerham on Saturday morning and, as you already know, I have done that.

The light faded on Thursday as I turned on to Washpond Lane

The bike is in fairly good nick. I need to jet clean it at the local garage, which I will do one of these days, but after fixing the puncture on Thursday I did give it a mini-clean, including a scrub of the block with a toothbrush, something I'd never done before.

I engaged farmyard animals in conversation on Beech Farm Road

It's now almost 2100hrs on Saturday night, there's a programme on BBC 4 about The Normans. I'm kind of half watching it while waiting for my fish & chips, which is in the oven, or so I'm told. My cycling week starts on a Sunday, meaning that I need to get up and go tomorrow morning and then get back in time to either take a drive to Hurst Green or to get back and finish off the lawn. The front needs doing too so if we end up on a drive there might be no time. I'm easy, though, so we'll see what tomorrow brings.

(No) Visible Lycra...

Perhaps I should be changing the name of the blog, getting rid of that word 'No' and admitting that, for the past month, possibly longer, I've been wearing Lycra in the open air, in the broad daylight. You could even call me a Lycra Monkey, let's face it, and it all started, of course, when I bought a pair of Lycra cycling shorts, admittedly many months ago. Alright, the premise is simple: No Visible Lycra. That means I wear the stuff (to protect certain parts of my anatomy) but it's not visible to the human eye. Fine. Except that recently it's been very visible as I have decided not to wear the trousers that normally cover the offending item of clothing. Why has this happened? Well, the summer for a start. There's nothing worse than wearing heavy cargo trousers with loads of pockets over a pair of Lycra cycling shorts in the heat of the day. In fact, that's really the only reason if I'm honest. So, off with anything covering the shorts and suddenly I'm a Lycra monkey. It feels much better and if it rains I don't seem to get that wet because the rain isn't absorbed into the material as it is with the cargo trousers, which, incidentally, are now spattered in white paint from a fairly recent bout of decorating. Look, it's freer, it's lighter, it's better, but it does make me wonder about the title of my blog, which, of course, I won't be changing.

Westerham, outside Tudor Rose in the sunshine on 17 July

This post is a little late as we're nearing the end of this week's cycling and I've yet to put pen to paper on last week's, which was good, although not as good as this week. It's Friday 23 July as I write this and I've been riding daily for well over a week so I should be putting in over 100 miles this week, although that phrase 'well over' is probably an exaggeration. But let's look at last week's rides first. In a nutshell, I've got to ride three Washpond Weebles to make a decent week of riding and that's what I did: three Weebles and one 'Weeble and more' which was rather odd; I saw a sign for the Sustrans Route 21 (avid readers will remember how I took Route 21 from Redhill to Warlingham and ended up riding an off-road hell of sorts). Well, I assumed that the stretch of this route I was about to embark upon was the continuation from the bit from Redhill and sure enough it was. Route 21 ultimately ends up in Greenwich, but I wasn't going that far, although I thought I'd see where it went and follow it for a short while. It was mud and puddles all the way and, much to my disappointment, the road veered right and I ended up on Scotshall, a country lane that took me back on the original Weeble route, upping my mileage by just half a mile. In other words it was a complete waste of time. The weather throughout last week's rides was good: sunny, warm, bright and hot on different days and that makes all the difference as only the previous week there had been cloud and rain. In the end I managed around 84 miles (that's a rough calculation, but a respectable distance nonetheless).

Crumbling cake and not much tea...

This week started with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and a respectable 22.85 miles in the sunshine. In fact, on the sunshine front, I have a pleasant sun tan on my legs and arms as a result. We sat outside the Costa, which I think offers far better value for money than the Tudor Rose cafe. Last Saturday (17 July) was the final day of my cycling week and I rode to Westerham via Beddlestead and through Woldingham. I decided to have tea in the Tudor Rose and ordered a slice of coffee and walnut cake. When the order arrived I won't deny it, I was disappointed. For a start, the cake was falling apart (I've experienced this before at the Tudor Rose) and the 'large tea' was not even a decent-sized mug. To make matters worse it cost me £6. At Costa I can get a large tea (and I mean a large tea in a huge paper carton with two tea bags) plus a cinnamon brioche bun for something like £4.28. I told Andy that the Costa provided better value for money and then continued to stuff my face.

On the cake front (and it has to be mentioned) last week I did rather overdo things, and not just cakes. Off the top of my head I think I enjoyed the following: a white chocolate Twix, a Wispa bar, a Twirl, a cappuccino mousse from Waitrose, possibly two of them, the aforementioned coffee and walnut cake and a couple of Millionaires shortbreads, something like that; so this week I put on the brakes. I've riden every day of the week and I've not touched a cake or a chocolate bar and let's get it on record that I have riden daily since 15 July, it's now 23 July and I will be going out today too, possibly this afternoon.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane...

This week, to date I've mainly stuck to the Weebles, but on Wednesday I did a straight ride to Botley Hill on the 269 around 1000hrs when the road seemed relatively quiet, although I did get one 'use the cycle lane!' from a Boris Johnson supporter and of course ignored him. That ride clocked up 13.42 miles but I won't do it again. Yesterday I was intending to do another Weeble but the road was closed, causing me to ride down Hesiers, up Beddlestead Lane, head west on Clarks Lane and then ride The Ridge into Woldingham and up Slines Oak Road (17.42 miles). So far this week I've riden 72.43 miles and I've got two rides to go, meaning that if I ride a Weeble today (12.30 miles or thereabouts) plus, say, a Westerham ride tomorrow, then my total will top 100 miles.

Vineyards along Pilgrims Lane...

All week it's been hot, very hot, often too hot to ride a bike, but the shade of the trees, the fragrant hedgerows and the warm breeze has made it all very pleasant and there's still two days of this week's cycling to go so I'm not complaining.

Fields on Beddlestead Lane...

Today I'm planning a Washpond Weeble, but being as the road is closed, meaning access to Washpond Lane is impossible, I'll have to ride down Hesiers Hill and repeat yesterday's ride, which isn't a hardship. In fact, it's greater mileage so it all adds to the final total, which I won't know until I've completed tomorrow's ride either to Westerham - where there's the temptation of cake - or to the Lakes where I'll need a flask of hot water, a mug and a couple of tea bags, although, if the latter, I'm going to have to leave the house earlier, possibly even at the old time of 0700hrs. I haven't left the house that early for some time.

Another scene from Beddlestead Lane earlier this week...

Friday afternoon, around 1630hrs, I headed out not really knowing where I was going. The rough plan was to ride the Washpond Weeble, but only if Beech Farm Road was no longer closed. The alternative was doing a Ledger's Loop, which I reckoned would be around 10 miles, but it might be less and knowing Strava I'd be disappointed to discover that, lo and behold, it was only, say, 9.34 miles (or something of that order). But still, I thought I'd go for it: I'd follow the route of the Weeble, but branch right on to Ledgers Road and then ride back along the 269 and home. As I rode along Ledgers I figured that if the road was still closed surely there would be a 'Road Closed' sign at the bottom of Washpond Lane, but there wasn't so I embarked upon a Reverse Weeble and sure enough the signs had been removed from Beech Farm Road, all was well and as of now, Saturday morning at 0834hrs, I've riden something like 85 miles with one ride left to go and that's now, any second now. But it's dark outside, rain is threatened and it looks like a November morning. The temperature is roughly 19 degrees so it's not that bad. I've got to get out there, I know that much, and I've only got around 30 minutes of slobbing around before I need to commit. It looks as if I'll go over 100 miles this week.

The Rockhopper on Beddlestead Lane...

And I did go over 100 miles, riding a record 110 miles thanks to a ride to Westerham. Yes, it was initially dull and grey and there was a persistent drizzle, but I persevered and by the time I was on Beddlestead Lane I was feeling good, thanks again to the fragrant hedgerows and the ferns lining each side of the road. I don't think I've ever seen ferns so tall. This is what I love about the summer months, the fact that nature is cascading everywhere, enclosing the country lanes and transforming them into peaceful havens of tranquility, almost another world shut off from the cacophony of modern life. All I could hear as I pedalled towards Clarks Lane and my left turn towards Westerham, was the chirping of birds and the rustle of other wildlife in the undergrowth, I didn't even see any other cyclists (along Beddlestead Lane).

Tea at the Tudor Rose

I rode along Pilgrims Lane, past the vineyards and the Velobarn (which was deserted) and into Westerham. To my dismay, Costa was closed so I was forced to visit the Tudor Rose. I didn't have any cake, they were looking a bit tired, and I suspect that the crumbly-looking coffee and walnut cake was the same one I ordered last week. A mug of tea sufficed. 

The ride home was fine. I retraced my inward ride but then followed The Ridge into Woldingham and home, cycling up the steep bit of Slines Oak Road with relative ease and then sailing along the Limpsfield Road towards home. The new cycling week starts tomorrow with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy... and if Costa's closed we'll need to find somewhere else for tea and possibly cake too, although the week without cake and sweets has done me some good and I'm not sure I fancy stuffing my face, I might just leave it.

Costa still closed, but the cake was fresh, not crumbly

Just a brief word about the Tudor Rose Tea Rooms' cakes: today they were fine and they looked recently replenished. Yesterday (Saturday) they were looking a bit tired and there was just one slice of coffee and walnut cake left, but today there was a whole cake so I ordered some and as you can see from the image above, it's not crumbly, it's perfect, although it still cost me just under £6.00 and I was forced to have a small pot of tea rather than a much more satisfactory paper cup. The photo above was taken this morning in a crowded restaurant. Fortunately, I managed to find a small table at the back and had to move my bike so that I could see it from where I was sitting. The service was a bit rubbish, I ordered a tea and a slice of coffee and walnut cake and heard the waitress make the mistake and then over-charge me: "So that's one tea, a slice of walnut cake and a coffee, that'll be £8.60." No, I said, that can't be right and she apologised but then, later, she took my order to the wrong table. The boss woman wasn't there so I'm guessing that was why things were a little off-kilter. I wish Costa would re-open, which is odd coming from me, somebody who likes the support the indie operators, but I'm afraid the Costa offers far better value for money, they're clearly not checking out their competition.

Hot, sunny days create shadows and here's mine!

Lockdown, Part 26: Cyclogeography

Shamed by not riding out yesterday, and mildly hassled by the mundane chores of a Saturday morning, I abandoned my attempt to meet Andy at 1100hrs at the Tatsfield Churchyard. Looking at mileage I figured it would be good to go out earlier and get something like Westerham under the belt before other things, like shopping, got in the way. I set off around 0915hrs with the northern Kent market town on my mind, but as I rode along I considered a shorter ride, working out in my head what I'd need to for the rest of the week to keep my mileage respectable. In the end I pushed ahead with the idea of heading for Westerham.

I rode the normal route through the leafy suburbs of Church Way, a considerable hill, across the fairly busy Addington Road and through the churchyard and into Onslow Gardens, a road consisting of fairly large detached houses. I took a right into Blenheim Gardens, hung a right on to Cranleigh Gardens (with my favourite curry house of old on the left hand corner) and then left on to the Limpsfield Road, the B269 no less, which, ultimately, would take me to Edenbridge.

The ride along the Limpsfield Road is pretty standard fayre for me; it's a busy road flanked to the left and right by a variety of different housing types, but mostly a mix of terraced properties and semi-detached all the way to Hamsey and then Warlingham Green where a small war memorial forms the centre piece of the green itself and is surrounded by a mix of old Victorian terraced houses and shops (a newsagent, Co-op, Nisa Today and India Dining (a restaurant) stand out).

Beyond the green I pass an Esso 24-hour garage on my right and Warlingham's village hall on the left, there's Chez Vous, which used to be Villa Sonia, a hotel and restaurant, and then a row of terraced Victorian properties on the left and a mixture of housing on the right, including a large detached house that looks out of place on the main road. More modern housing can be found further along the road, some detached and semi-detached bungalows, some recently built blocks of flats and and then the huge car park of Warlingham Sainsbury's where people queue, for social distancing purposes, prior to shopping.

On the A25 close to Oxted

Beyond Sainsbury's a roundabout offers up a choice of routes: the quieter country lanes to the left and the continuation of the B269 straight ahead. I decide to take the latter route and once past Knights Garden Centre the road offers fields and woods on either side, a small pond at the top of Slines Oak Road and a few houses dotted here and there in woods on the right. Most of this section of the 269 is flanked by fields with an occasional farm house set back from the road.

The Botley Hill Farmhouse pub on the right offers a huge car park and is set back from the road. It used to be a teashop in days gone by, but I've always known it as a pub, although it has undergone a change of management recently. Passing the pub I head for the mini-roundabout and turn left on to Clarks Lane heading east towards the Tatsfield Bus Stop and then the churchyard, both on the left. The covered bus stop, where Andy and I often stopped for tea pre-lockdown is made of wood and provides much-needed shelter from the rain and snow when the weather gets rough. It is located at the top of Approach Road on the left of Clarks Lane. Approach Road heads into Tatsfield village where there is a shop, a restaurant and a pub and a small pond. Not much seems to go on there.

The bike picks up speed as it heads down hill towards the churchyard. There are fields on either side, but those on the right eventually lead to the M25, which can be heard purring in the distance. The road winds it way downwards, past the entrance to the Park Wood Golf Club on the left and eventually past a sign for Kent, the so-called Garden of England. This stretch of road is fast and enjoyable and soon, after going under the M25, I arrive in Westerham, but I decide not to stop. Instead, I turn right on to the A25 and ride west to Oxted, the plan being to ride up Titsey Hill and rejoin the 269 at Botley Hill. 

Riding from east to west I have a strong headwind to contend with and it slows me down considerably as I weave my way through the outskirts of Westerham and on to a route without cycle lanes. There is, however, plenty of visibility as there are fields on either side of me and an open road ahead. The Grasshopper pub, a huge mock tudor building on the right, is under some kind of refurbishment, either flats or a budget hotel. I figure on the latter as I pass the structural steel frame that will eventually be joined to the main building, which I'm guessing they can't knock down because it's of historical interest. I remember having Sunday lunch there on many occasions. It was a carvery and it always reminds me of my father-in-law, a man who had a calming influence on me and everybody he met.

At the top of Titsey Hill near Botley

The A25 has some big houses on its left side, heading west, concealed from sight by trees and bushes and protected by huge gates. Names like Wildwood and Hatchetts and with sweeping driveways, these are the homes of wealthy people who clearly want nothing to do with the outside world. There are keypads on gateposts and little chance of glimpsing the main properties. Soon I find myself in Limpsfield, one of those places that seemingly doesn't exist as there are no houses to be seen, not for a short while at any rate, but then, suddenly, civilisation reasserts itself as I approach the outskirts of Oxted. I've gone from Surrey into Kent and back into Surrey again and now I turn right into Snatts Road and down into Oxted High Street, which is quiet and traffic-free. At the Deep Blue fish & chip restaurant to my left, where I remember visiting just prior to lockdown, I turn right. There's a bank on the corner, a Nat West I think, and further up the road on the right is Oxted Library. I'm looking for Glanville Road on the right, which will take me towards the Titsey Estate and the climb towards Botley Hill.

Glanville Road is characterised by large houses, not as large as those I found along the A25 (Wildwood and Hatchetts spring to mind) but big places worth, probably, at the time of writing, around the £900,000 to £1.2 million mark, possibly a lot more. In Glanville, the houses are a mix of ages, I'm guessing: some sixties and seventies, but others earlier. Towards the end of the road the price dips, the houses become semi-detached and terraced and then I turn right and left and head towards Titsey Hill, a 16% incline that can be an ordeal. I crank the bike down into the low gears, psyche myself up for the climb and then get on with it. All the way up there is nothing but trees on either side of the road and it seems to go on forever. I make at least three or four turns and still can't see any sign of civilisation, or an end to the climb, but soon a road sign announces the roundabout at Botley Hill and I'm back on familiar ground, the B269 heading north this time and flanked by fields and farmland on either side. I pass the pub on my left this time and at one point I have a tremendous view of the whole of London. I can see Canary Wharf and then, what seems about a foot away, the Shard and the City of London, it's easily 20 to 25 miles away, maybe more, or perhaps less, let's settle for 20 miles.

I pass Beech Farm Road on my right and then Ledgers Lane also on my right, then the pond at the top of Slines Oak Road on the left and Knights Garden Centre further along on the right. Sainsbury's is coming up and then I'm heading towards Warlingham Green beyond which lies Hamsey and then Sanderstead High Street. I cut across the 269 and into Cranleigh Gardens, take a left into Blenheim, a left on to Onslow Gardens and back through the churchyard towards the busy Addington Road. I cross it and roll down Church Way, which has parked cars on both sides of the road, and then I turn left on to Morley, right on to Elmfield Way, left into Southcote, right to Ellenbridge and right on to Barnfield. Nearly home.

In total I rode 37.27km, that's roughly 23 miles. I was in the saddle for two hours and five minutes and averaged 17.8km/hour. On the ride there was an elevation gain of 475 metres.

I feel more than compensated for not going out yesterday as I've now riden 39 miles this week, so far.

Lockdown, Part Three: 'We're all doomed!'

There used to be a time when, occasionally, I had a strange feeling of being doomed. I could never quite put my finger on it, but it was there, nagging away at me, but never quite revealing itself. I would wrack my brains trying to find out what it was that was making me feel depressed and feeling like people tend to feel when they've had a great weekend and realise they've got to go back to work where there's loads to do, but I couldn't. It was hard, feeling downbeat and not really being able to say it was for this reason or that, sometimes it was just the notion that we're all mortal beings, the human condition basically, we're all going to die one way or another, and as a result everything seemed so pointless, we never really own anything, even our houses, everything is transient, here today, gone tomorrow and yes, it was (and always will be) depressing. But everybody feels this way at some time in their lives, possibly on a regular basis, I know I do. Not all the time. Most days I'm pretty upbeat about things, but not right now.

This time, of course, I know what's nagging at me. It's the same thing nagging at everybody. The coronavirus, lock down, uncertainty, curtailed freedoms, lovely weather but something wrong with the world: ignore that sunshine, ignore the blossoms on the trees (once a sign of hope as we pull out of winter and head for summer). Not any more. Everything is tinged with a sense of foreboding. It's all a little unreal, but at the same time real. It's as if the old days of fun and laughter have passed and now we have little to look forward to. I used to feel this way about Brexit and the Tories and Boris Johnson, but that was slightly different, all that leaving the EU, Donald Trump and what have you, almost a comedy, but the Coronavirus is a horror movie because it's Russian roulette. Yes, 80% only suffer mild symptoms, but who's to say I'm in the 80%? I might be one of the unlucky few who succumb to the disease and end up in the ExCeL Centre, better make that the Nightingale Hospital, but it'll always be an exhibition centre to me. In fact, with all the exhibitions I've been to, there would be a tragic irony to find myself there dying and wondering what exhibition stands had previously occupied my death space.

Today, Saturday 4th April 2020 and I escape the misery of coronavirus...

But I live in hope, of sorts. I've always believed in my own immortality, foolishly, perhaps. I like to think that by stocking up on zinc and selenium and cod liver oil, not to mention grapes and blueberries, porridge and everything else I stuff down my throat, I'll somehow survive whatever life throws at me.

Everything has been turned upside down and that includes the cycling. Andy and I are riding alone these days. No more tea at the bus stop, no more laughing about this and that, no more moaning about the European Union or the media or anything. We ride alone and that's a whole new dynamic. Nobody to share tea with, nobody to ride with, nobody to share the pain of the hills.

Today, much later than normal, I headed out for Botley Hill. It was a beautiful day and, probably because there have been no planes in the sky and virtually no cars on the road, the air was fresh, the hedgerows fragrant and the skies blue. In short, it was truly the most wonderful day and as I rode out of Warlingham and into the sticks I felt good. It was almost as if there was nothing to worry about, no virus, nothing, and it made me realise the freedom offered by the bicycle. I was cycling alone so I wasn't breaking any rules, despite what Chris Boardman was telling everybody on Twitter, something about staying local. Well, I suppose Botley Hill is local, it's a 14-mile round trip and it only takes around 27 minutes to get from The Ridge to my front door, which ain't bad. There were other riders on the road, mainly Lycra monkeys, but only groups of two and they were, of course, social distancing themselves from one another. But it could have been a normal day, a normal time without the virus and that's what I loved most about it. The bike offered me the freedom to be out and about and outside of the confines of the house. Not that being at home has been bad. As I've said before, the key is having a routine and now that I'm cycling daily, after work is done, I have a routine. That and watching the X Files, listening to music.

But I digress, let's get back to the ride. The daffodils were out, the sun was shining, the roads were relatively empty and as I headed back down the 269 a weight had been lifted off my shoulders: the weight of the coronavirus. The bike, I realised, was my ticket to ride, to break away and take in the fresh air. I was on cloud nine, so much so that I Facetimed Andy when I reached The Ridge. We chatted for a while and then said goodbye. Both of us are looking forward to normality, but when it's coming back is anybody's guess. 

To Botley Hill...

I hadn't been cycling since the middle of January. Various things – my mum and a bit of travelling – had stopped me and as I made my way around the suburban streets surrounding my house I felt a little sluggish. As Andy later remarked, as we wove our way around country lanes close to St. Leonard's church, the older you get, the harder it is to get back into condition.

One thing that amazed me was how light it is now in the morning. The last time I jumped on the bike it was dark when I left the house and I had to put my lights on. Now, a few weeks later it was broad daylight and the lights were not required – until later.

Bleak at Botley Hill

When we reached the turn off for Hesiers Hill and later Beddlestead Lane, we decided to ride along Beech Farm Road instead and it proved to be a mistake. Weatherwise, there was fog hanging low in the bare trees and hovering over the fields, but as we approached the 269 and turned left heading towards Botley Hill, we both opted for the off-road path as it was simply too dangerous to stay on the road.

As we passed Botley Hill, Andy stopped. Yes, he had a puncture. "We might as well stay here for our tea," I said and we did. Andy set about fixing his bike; the puncture was on the front tyre. The fog persisted and Andy decided to head home via the Ridge. I would have gone with him, but the thought of Sline's Oak Road bothered me enough to keep me on the off-road path back along the 269.

When I reached Warlingham Green I met a complete imbecile, a toothless individual driving a truck. He leaned out of the window and exclaimed, "Oi! Mate! Yer fucking front wheel is going round!" It was something I hadn't heard since I was at school, but this utter twat – I didn't ask, but I bet he voted Brexit – spat it out with, it has to be said, a high degree of hatred. I simply ignored the arsehole and pedalled on towards Hamsey Green and eventually I reached Sanderstead.

Andy fixing his puncture...

I was sleeping at mum's on Saturday night and opted not to ride on Sunday, which proved to be a big mistake as the weather was amazing. I was reading this morning (I'm writing this on Monday 18 February) that we're in for some kind of freak heatwave and temperatures of 20 degrees. Sounds good to me.

While I considered riding round the block, I went for a walk instead and later drove to Westerham.

Whenever I miss a ride I always 'consider' a ride around the block, but for some reason it never appeals. I think that if I make up my mind not to ride, somehow that decision sticks with me and the thought of riding around the block simply depresses me.

Great weather prompts a ride to Westerham...

Time passes fast. It seems like only a week or two have passed since I walked home from work along Hayling Park Road in the dark, wearing a bright red beanie hat and a raincoat, wary of the icy pavement or, indeed, riding the bike wearing many layers, a scarf and balaclava.

March has just passed, we're in early April, the clocks have gone forward and already we have experienced summer-like conditions. Last night and all day yesterday we had blue skies, the buds on the trees are transforming themselves into green leaves, the blossoms are out and hedgerows give out a pleasant perfume.

Last night, at almost 1900hrs, the skies were still blue and both the sun and the moon were in the sky, the former shining brightly against the house fronts as I made my way home on foot.

General Wolfe casts a shadow in Westerham

People seem happier too and there are more of us on the streets. Old men pass the time of day with a comment about the weather and, when it comes to riding the bike, everything is pleasant. The roads are dry for a start, we can get away with wearing less clothes, although right now there is a kind of transitory period in progress when cold breezes can still catch us off guard, like last week as I rode along Essenden contemplating whether to return home for another jumper. But other than that, summer is rollercoastering its way towards us and that means pleasant rides and decent weather ahead.

I left the house around 0710hrs and headed for the green, but halfway along Ellenbridge I turned around: I'd forgotten a tennis racquet that I'd promised Andy for a photoshoot. I lost a few minutes, but soon I was back on the road.

Our bikes in Westerham, Saturday 8th April

Andy suggested Westerham, or I did, I can't remember, and we both hesitated, but eventually decided to take the plunge. My Specialized Rockhopper had yet to go there so that was good enough reason.

The weather was wonderful so we decided to get our heads down and save the chat for Westerham. I figured we'd arrive around 0830hrs, but when we eventually got there I forgot to check the time.

We rode along the 269 with relative ease, both bikes performing well, and soon we were passing Botley Hill and heading east along Clarks Lane towards the Tatsfield Bus Stop, which we soon passed and continued down hill. From Clarks Lane we could see a lot of mist below us, like clouds, and when we descended into the valley the temperature dropped considerably and we were both glad we hadn't yet opted for shorts and a tee-shirt. While April is a very optimistic month in terms of the weather – let's not forget that snow in 2008 – it's still packed with uncertainty especially where clothing is concerned. While scarves and balaclavas were left at home, we were still pretty sensibly dressed for any eventuality, like a sudden drop in temperature.

We sat at a wooden table behind the statue of General Wolfe and did what we always do: drink tea and munch on biscuits. We saw a few Morgan cars heading east on the A25 towards Brasted but otherwise Westerham this Saturday morning was quiet, sleepy almost, and certainly basking in a hazy spring sunshine.

Neither of us was looking forward to the hill leading us out of Westerham. We both knew that it continued all the way to Botley Hill, but, as always, like most things, it wasn't as bad as we expected it to be and soon we had passed the Surrey Hills totem pole and were heading towards the Tatsfield Bus Stop and Botley Hill. Andy said goodbye at the Ridge; he wouldn't be riding again until Easter Sunday.

Heading out of town and then up the hill...

I roared down the 269 towards Warlingham and then headed towards the green and soon I found myself in Sanderstead High Street. The bike was performing well or was it the weather that was making me feel good, probably a bit of both. I circumnavigated the pond and rode down Church Way, hanging a left on Morley and then a right on Elmfield, but I didn't take my usual left into Southcote. I continued along Elmfield and soon I was home, at 0957hrs. Not bad for a 22-mile round trip.

Feeling energised I spent most of the day in the garden, mowing the lawns front and back and sitting under the umbrella drinking tea and reading the papers.

In the news at the moment, Trump has fired off 59 (why not 50 or 60?) missiles and taken out an airbase in Syria. The suspicion is that Syria has been using chemical weapons again and unlike Obama, who pussy-footed around and did nothing, at least Trump, for all his faults, has taken decisive action and received the support of the international community, bar Russia and Iran, both allies of Syria.

There's been another terrorist incident, this time in Sweden: a lorry went on the rampage killing around four people in Stockholm, only weeks after something similar on Westminster bridge here in London using a rental car. It goes without saying that we're all getting a little fed up with it.

Lastly, Brexit. Theresa May has invoked Article 50 and we've now got a couple of years of watching the politicians mess up the economy as they struggle to get a 'deal' out of Europe. We all know they're going to get a bad deal. Why should they get a good one? Anyway, enough. The news is all very depressing and these days there's no media you can trust to tell the truth.