Things are looking up ...

I say things are looking up because the weather has changed... for the best. I say 'for the best' because it's no longer cold, that all stopped last week. I was in Bruges last week (well, last Thursday and Friday) and it was bitterly cold, even when wearing a fairly heavy suit. I had to wrap up warm on the Friday when I spent most of the day walking around, popping into shops, diving into cafes and so forth, but generally I was just mooching, me and a pal from work. It happens yearly at this time: the company takes the entire workforce abroad for what is billed as the Christmas Party, a kind of belated event, but is really the company conference. The conference bit lasts all of 30 minutes and then, after a quiz (if there's time, there wasn't last week) we head out for dinner and then have the whole of the following day to explore and do as we please until it's time to go home. We went to and from Bruges in a coach and via Le Shuttle, which was fairly painless. We all stayed in the Novotel Brugge Centrum (I was in room 353) and on Friday morning I enjoyed an amazing breakfast before heading out to find a small teashop in which to sit and read for half an hour or so. We left Bruges around 1530hrs and I reached home around 2030hrs. All was good.

In Bruges...lovely place!

On Saturday morning the plan had always been to ride to either Oxted or Limpsfield. I left later than expected (around 0930hrs) and headed for Coffee at Kiwi House in Limpsfield Village. It's my new place. I reckon the cappuccino is to die for and the almond croissants aren't bad either. However, the last time I was in there it was earlier than it was on Saturday and now I found reserved tables and the need to ask people if I could join the end of their table. Still, no harm done. Like the last time I was here I parked the bike outside and padlocked it to a wooden fence. In all honesty, if anybody had fancied nicking the bike all they would have needed was a small wood saw, but this is snooty Limpsfield, I probably could have left the bike unpadlocked.

Like last week I rode along the 269 to Botley Hill and then down Titsey Hill, which sometimes can be nauseous as the bike shakes its way downwards until the road smooths out a little bit prior to rolling into Limpsfield. Normally I turn right and follow Granville Road into Oxted (about another mile on the journey) or, as on Saturday and the week before, I simply turned left, past the church and the pub and into Coffee at Kiwi House.

Tea in Bruges on Friday morning

The problem with making oneself at home in a coffee shop when you're riding a bike is that nagging thought that, at some stage, you're going to have to ride back; and my ride back is up Titsey Hill. It's not a problem for me, but the thought of it remains awful even if there is a fair ride before I reach the bottom and prepare for the ascent. Once, as I rode up Titsey Hill, I turned right as the ascent began and followed White Lane (an even steeper hill) to where it joins Clarks Lane. Now that's an ordeal, but again, I take it in my stride if I'm honest and then the remaining ride is a bit like the ride back from Westerham. I suppose the good thing about White Lane is that it's a short, sharp, shock whereas Titsey Hill is long and drawn out and seemingly endless. On Saturday I rode the length of Titsey Hill, got myself into a groove and all was well, all that remained was the 269, which is fine if you keep your wits about you.

On Sunday I rode to Westerham to see Andy who was waiting for me in Costa Coffee. These days Costa is a little bit hit and miss (is it or is it not open?) but on Sunday morning (yesterday morning – today's Monday) it was open and Andy was sitting in the window finishing off a cup of coffee. I ordered a tea and joined him. I thought that his Kona was looking pretty good and he told me he'd changed the bars and had recently purchased new tyres. He'd also cleaned it, putting me to shame.

Prior to last week's ice ride to Oxted

I've been pretty crap these past few weeks, not really writing much on my blog (the last post to this one was on 10 January) and I had to admit to Andy that I'd not been reading his blogs either, which is a shame because he's got some big cycling plans on the boil. He's looking in to riding a coast-to-coast route from Lowestoft in Suffolk to Land's End in Cornwall, or possibly Weston-super-Mare, quite a trip and not your traditional coast-to-coast cycle ride (like Liverpool to Scarborough, say). I talked briefly about the up and coming Dunwich Dynamo, something Andy and I have talked about in the past. It's roughly 125 miles through the night from Hackney Wick to Dunwich on the Suffolk Coast. Now don't get me wrong, I'd like to do it – at least I think I do – but I might just like the idea of it, the riding through the night, although I've heard bad things about it too. I'm wondering if I could do a straight 125 miles, at night, without engaging in proper training and I think Andy's of the opinion, quite rightly, that I'd need to train. In fact, he's kind of thrown down a gauntlet, which I'm contemplating as I write this: should I commit to it or not? Andy says the only way you'll do anything is to commit to it and again, he's right. He's said that if I commit, he'll do it with me next year, but on the condition that I train for it; I've yet to get back to him as I'm thinking (and I stress the word 'thinking') about changing the commitment from the Dynamo to a day time coast-to-coast ride, something like the Liverpool to Scarborough jaunt, which used to be the Whitbread Coast-to-Coast. That said, I'm not ruling out the Dynamo, just giving myself time to think about it. I think I could do it, my only worry is having a puncture at 0300hrs in the middle of nowhere. We've decided that we'd spend the day and night in Dunwich and then possibly ride back (so I'd better consider training for a greater distance than just 125 miles) but in all honesty we'd probably opt for the train. So, I've got some thinking to do.

Saturday's cappuccino and almond croissant at Kiwi House

There's a train strike on Wednesday and Friday and I'm thinking about riding it; the evenings have started to brighten up and I reckon that if I left the office around 1600hrs I'd almost get home while it's still light, so that's something else I need to consider. The only other option is the bus or the car, but I think it's a good excuse to get back on the bike for those two magical mid-week extra rides.  

In Bruges...

... for all of one hour having lunch in the main square. I've never been before and because I was only there for lunch – and two dark ales that played havoc with my digestive system for the rest of the journey – I couldn't really pass judgement on the place, although judging by the shops and the general vibe, it's the sort of place to visit for a long weekend, although there was something a little 'samey' about it. For a start there were global brands: H&M, Claire's Accessories and Zara spring to mind, and then there was that air of 'tourist destination' about the place. Cue horse drawn carriages and restaurants with outdoor seating. I'm sounding ungrateful, I know, but after while I did find myself saying ' alright, I get it' and then wishing I could turn around and go home – metaphorically speaking, of course, although going home would be nice especially as the weather this week is odds on to be hot and summery and I'm going to be stuck in an exhibition hall all day when my family and back garden await me.

Er, tone it down a bit! Room 207, Friends Hotel, Dusseldorf, Germany

Half of me wanted to remain in Bruges instead of pressing on to Dusseldorf, my ultimate destination, which I reached just before 9pm. It's been a long day: up at 0600hrs, out of the house by 0800hrs, driving with a colleague to Folkestone to catch the EuroTunnel shuttle and then the hour and a half ride to Bruges, which is en route to Dusseldorf.

When I reached my hotel – the Friends Hotel on Worringer Strasse – I was full of so much gas from the dark ale that I could almost have floated to my room, but I had to check in first. It was all very efficient, but then I was in Germany where, fortunately, everything works, trains arrive and depart on time and everybody seems to be driving a decent German automobile.

Because tourists are money! The main square in Bruges, Belgium

Having checked out the website for this hotel prior to leaving the UK, I knew what to expect: it was a quirky boutique hotel so there would be out-sized angle poise lamps and whacky colours and I wasn't to be disappointed. I had two of the aforementioned lamps over either side of my bed, the wall behind the bed was painted a shocking orange and the carpet was brightly-coloured stripes. Had I taken mind-altering drugs, I wondered, as I noted with mild amusement the purple curtains? No, I hadn't. I didn't need to as this place was a kind of Korova Milk Bar and acid trip rolled into one.

Eager to sort out my digestive problem I headed straight for the bathroom – a shocking white affair with a black and white framed photograph of Twiggy looking surprised to see – she had an even bigger surprise coming, I thought, as I gulped down a bottle of complimentary Evian mineral water, lit the blue touch paper and waited. It all went smoothly bar a moment of panic when I thought I'd blocked the toilet. Horrific visions of calling up a member of staff to sort it out crossed my mind but, fortunately my fears were all in vain as suddenly the water level receded and all was well with the world.

I'm in Room 207 and it's a pleasant enough space if I ignore the brightly-coloured decor. The main thing is that everything works and the guy on the front desk even had an adaptor for me and it worked! I plugged in my iphone to charge it and then, grabbing glasses, money and a credit card I headed outside to check out the restaurant scene... only to discover that I was in kebab land. Better make that 'kebap' land. And there were only men in the restaurants, groups of them in denims, trainers and open neck shirts exposing hairy chests chatting, I could have been in Istanbul or the Yemen.

A short distance from the main square, but still very much in Bruges.

I walked up all the streets joining Worringer Platz but found nothing but 'kebap' houses. Eventually I went back to the hotel and asked if there were any restaurants in the area, good restaurants, that weren't kebab shops. Yes, was the answer. There was an Italian restaurant about 10 minutes' walk along Karl Strasse called Da Bruno. It was dark outside but I'd decided that I better eat something and made the short trek, past a few down-and-outs until I eventually stumbled across the restaurant. It was good and very authentic but again only men could be found grouped together at one of the tables talking, no women.

I ordered pasta with mushrooms and a glass of red wine – no wine list was produced, just a fairly generous glass of red wine and some bread rolls. But it was good food and much welcomed, although I had considered simply hitting the sack until I realised how little I had eaten today. The bill came to EUR15.00 but I liked the place so I gave the waiter a 10 Euro tip and then made my way back to the hotel from where I now write this blog post.

Oddly, at night, the wild colour scheme of the room seemed muted (unless I switched on a light). What I do like is the guest book for room 207. Shortly after arriving I flicked through it and found the comments of other guests who had spent the night in this very room. Half of them were written in foreign languages I didn't understand, but there was one from Jan and Natalie – 'Lancashire Girls, UK' who now live in County Mayo in Ireland. They even drew a funny face. Their message was clear, that the Friends Hotel was beautiful and had friendly staff and there was a small piece of advice for guests like me: the caff next door offered superb ice cream. They were only here for one night, but say that they hope to be back for longer in the not-to-distant future. I'm looking forward to adding my comment, but I'll wait until I've stayed here a little longer before I put pen to paper. Or perhaps I'll do it now.

Just a word on that caff next door. Earlier I'd considered it for my evening meal but my first impression was that it might be an ice cream parlour. But then I saw a blackboard advertising pasta and soup and ciabatta, but it didn't appeal, not for an evening meal at any rate, but I might take up Jan and Natalie's advice and check out the ice cream – but not until I've exercised, stretched my legs and possibly even hired a bicycle (I need to check the availability of a bike share scheme).

Right now it's time to hit the sack. With such bright colours I'm not planning on setting my alarm clock as I'm sure the purple curtains and striped carpets will wake me up as soon as daylight dawns.