To Oxted...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This and that...

At the Lookout Cafe, Biggin Hill, Kent

Last week I rode 60 miles, two 21-milers and 18 miles during the week, not bad going, I thought. The two longer rides were both to Biggin Hill, which is a funny old place. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's certainly the home of 'white van man' and there are plenty of England flags on lamposts, but that's not really it, there's something else and whatever it is, it depresses me, it always has. Riding up Sunningvale Road was tough, easily the steepest hill I've climbed. On the first take, I lost momentum because the gears weren't lined up properly. In other words I was in the wrong gear and had to dismount and start again. At one point the chain came off on the first ride, but I was a little more prepared on the second ride and managed to get all the way to the top even if I was half dead when I got there. I cycled across the road to the Lookout Cafe, which was right on the airport, almost on the tarmac. Next door there was a flying school and no, I didn't even think about it. 

The Lookout cafe is ok but again, it lacks something, there's no atmosphere, but the place itself is good, there's a decent menu, you can order toasted crumpets, for example, there are plenty of cakes too, but I'd advise you not to have the 'farmhouse fruit cake', its far too greasy and left a greasy residue on my plate. I ordered it on the first trip out and left half of it, but on the second trip I bought a London cheesecake and I love London cheesecakes. When I was a kid I referred to London cheesecakes as 'whisker cakes' because of the shredded icing on top. They remind me of being a kid and they are really good cakes, but I was glad, after eating it, that I had a good 10 miles of riding to do. You need something to burn the calories after eating a 'whisker cake'.

On my first trip to the Lookout, it was packed and I couldn't figure out why the people were there: were they going to have flying lessons, were they flying off somewhere, were they airplane spotting or, like me, were they just there for the cake and the tea? Without asking them, there was no way of knowing. 

Light aircraft behind barbed wire at Biggin Hill, Kent...

On the second trip, I met Andy. It was his idea that we visit the Lookout and I'm glad we did as the ride to Biggin Hill, especially coming up Sunningvale Road, made the trip a proper work-out even if Sunningdale was the most punishing hill I'd ever climbed, even more of an ordeal than White Hill Lane on the way home from Redhill to my house. I think if I go back at the weekend, which I might, there's a strong chance I'll go up Stock Hill (or is it Stocks Hill?) as, for some reason it's psychologically better for me; I get this way sometimes, it's a bit the ride to Godstone when we go through the golf course, there's a bit I simply don't like and I can't put my finger on why, it just depresses me in some way. While Stocks Hill is fine, Sunningvale isn't and there's no rhyme nor reason for it.

I like a decent cafe, mainly because I like to sit there reading a book and sipping a mug of tea. The pastry or the cake is a bridge too far and I always feel disappointed in myself if I weaken, which I often do, especially if I find myself in Coughlans in Oxted, all those delicious-looking cakes staring at me, it's hard not to order one. But that's because I'm weak, I can't leave them alone however much I try and believe me I try, but not hard enough. I tend not to eat cake in Sheree's in Tatsfield, where a cup of tea will suffice, but everywhere else I'm tempted.

I try not to eat cake but last week I enjoyed a carrot cake in Busy Beans in Redhill. At least it's a carrot cake that has real carrots in it, I don't think carrot cakes elsewhere are like that; and yet, oddly, it's the thought of a cake with carrots in it that puts me off carrot cake. There's a big difference between cakes and pastries and normally, if I'm sitting in Caffe Nero in Oxted, I order the apricot croissant, sometimes an almond croissant, but in all honesty, the best place for the latter is Coco & Nut in Sanderstead, it's the filling, it's to die for. In Coughlans I often opt for the Bakewell tart and elsewhere anything goes unless I'm in Costa where I'm tempted to eat their rather processed version of the Bakewell tart. For me, the biggest sin is the millionaire's shortbread. Whenever I have one I regret it in the same way that I regret ordering tiramisu for dessert in a restaurant. Where eating is concerned I tend to regret a lot. The other day I found myself in the village of Graffham in West Sussex, I'd driven out of nearby Petworth and found a general store. In I went and found that they offered food. I ordered a sausage sandwich, another mistake and even more so when they fill the thing with half a dozen sausages sliced in half long ways. I munched my way through layers of sliced sausage, enjoying every bit of it but also regretting it. I've kind of given up on being frugal with food and this has been going on since the pandemic, although I'm getting better. We tend to eat well and by that I don't mean we stuff our faces. The food in our house is light and healthy and my breakfasts are always on the money: porridge with cacao powder and milled flaxseeds, a few grapes and a segmented orange. If I'm going to let myself down it's at lunch time. Normally, if I take sandwiches (egg, or egg and avocado or turkey slices off the bone with mustard pickle) I might wander over to Busy Beans and order a tea and a slice of their aforementioned carrot cake. In fact, of late, they've added a coffee and walnut cake, which is pleasant. 

This week I haven't been on the bike as much as last week. Sometimes I just don't feel motivated enough, it's weird. Last week I was up for it every night after work, Wednesday through Friday, and then the aforementioned Biggin Hill rides. I think it was the weather. There was spring sunshine and it put a spring in my step too. This week I did nothing. Tomorrow will be my first ride, probably Oxted or Westerham depending on how I'm feeling, or the non-stop ride, who knows? Not me. Not yet at any rate, it all depends on tomorrow.

Work has been a bit stressful of late, so I took a half day today and went into town, Battersea Power Station to be precise. I bought a pair of trainers and what a palaver it was too. Not today so much as I'd learned my lesson from the previous weekend, the weekend when my week totted up to 60 miles of riding. 

I hate buying clothes and shoes

I don't know about you, but I really don't like buying clothes, that's probably why I always end up walking out of the store with the wrong-sized trousers or shoes that should be bigger or smaller than what I bought. I always look a bit of a mess. Last week I drove to Bluewater to look for a decent pair of trainers. It all started three years ago when I purchased (from Clarks) a pair of ATL boots made with Gore Tex. They were great and, give or take, I wore them every day for around three years. Recently, I noticed that they were starting to wear through so I figured it was time to go looking for a new pair of shoes. What I really wanted was the same pair of ATLs that I was replacing, but Clarks no longer sold them and it was impossible to get them anywhere else. The key to the ATL's success was the soles, especially the upturned bit at the heel, but it was all academic, Clarks didn't sell them and nor did anybody else. So, I figured a decent pair of trainers would be the next best thing, something understated enough for use at work. But would a pair of trainers do the job? Would I be wearing them for the next three years, daily? I thought not, but I decided to take the gamble and give it a go; it was just a case of getting out there and buying the right pair. Fine, you might think. I know my size (size 44) so it should be a doddle. But no, it wasn't. For a start, when I tried on a size 44 it didn't fit. Why? That's my size! But no, I'd have to try on a half-size bigger. Fine, so I'm 10.5, not 10, when it comes to trainers. I found myself in a shop called Snow and Ice and, for the first time ever, I found the best salesperson... IN THE WORLD! She said she had my interests at heart. Yeah, right, but ultimately, I think she did. She scanned my feet and to my surprise I wasn't a size 10 (44), I was, according to the machine, a size 9! That simply can't be true. If I try on a size 44 and they're too small, I'm definitely not a size 9. In fact I know I'm not a 9 (43) because none of the shoes I have ever worn were size 9, my feet are too big for a size 9, end of. And now it looks as if I'm not a size 10 either, I'm a size 10.5, when it comes to trainers at any rate. My brain was frazzled by the end of the day, probably because of all that cycling, and I left Bluewater with nothing. All I knew was that if I wanted a pair of trainers I was a half-size up on my normal shoe size. I am now, a week later, the proud owner of a pair of Adidas trainers, they're black and they're Gore Tex but whether they last as long as those ATLs, well, I'm sceptical. But think about it for a minute. I have my feet scanned and they tell me I'm a size 9, not 10, which ain't true. I'll say no more. 

After one ride to Biggin Hill and a drive to and from Bluewater, not forgetting the wandering around trying to find a decent pair of trainers, I think I tired myself out if I'm honest with you; I felt so weary. The thing is, I can't do everything, I'm not Superman. I rode 60 miles on the bike, drove all the way to Bluewater shopping centre and then, when I got back I lifted sections of a rotten tree trunk into the back of the car and took them to the dump. I was knackered basically. This week my workload has been less and that makes me more likely to get out on the bike. The trick is to be motivated enough to go early and not to forget things and have to come back, that's always very annoying, but it happens to me a lot, mainly because I've always got loads of things on my mind. I often leave without my rucksack, which I need if I ride the Kona as it doesn't have a crossbar bag in which to carry a pump and puncture equipment. The problem, of course, is if I take the rucksack with pumps and puncture kit one week because I'm on the Kona, I then take the other bike out the following week and forget that I don't have a pump or puncture gear in the crossbar bag. Sometimes I go back for it; most days I do, but sometimes I don't realise until it's too late and I end up gambling. Yes, there's a good chance I won't get a puncture, but if I do and I'm miles away from home and nowhere near a railway station then I'll have to walk and believe me, it takes forever, pushing a bike 10 miles takes hours which in turn ruins/wastes the day. So I have to get my shit together or at least remember what's where and when: if the Kona's coming out to play I need to take the rucksack with all the gear in it; if it's not and I use the Rockhopper then I must ensure that the pump and other stuff is in the crossbar bag. I often put a beanie hat on and then forget to put on my crash helmut. Whenever this happens I return to get it unless I've gone too far before I realise and then I just carry on (it's rare that that happens).

It's nice going shopping during the week when there's nobody around, less people, no queuing for the toilet, the restaurants have vacant seats and so do the trains unless you leave it until rush hour. Because we were all too tired to cook I went out and bought a few things (pasta, a vegetable samosa and other stuff that would be needed during the week). I bought a tin of Nutella. I'm sure it's not that good for you but if I'm determined to take a sandwich to work (and save money) sometimes it's good to have something like Nutella hanging around as it's easy to spread and I'm good to go. The downside is that it's great and that means it's addictive and even now I'm thinking about a Nutella sandwich, but I think I can resist.

I'm obsessed with Pellegrino sparkling mineral water, I could drink it all day and all night. I normally have a glass first thing in the morning with my breakfast and then another when I get home from work. I've always liked sparkling water. I remember drinking a lot of Badoit back in the day and now that I don't drink alcohol, it's been over eight years, it's a drink I can enjoy both inside and outside the house. Incidentally, on the not drinking thing, I don't miss it, never have, not once, and I'll never ever go back to beer or wine or anything. It is a poison, remember, and poisons don't do anybody any good. I just don't need it anymore, that's the key thing. I gave up overnight back in October 2017 and I haven't touched a drop since. In that way I have great willpower, but when I think about it, I didn't need willpower, I just stopped and never went back. It's one of the best things I've ever done outside of marrying my wife and having a son and a daughter. I often wish I'd stopped earlier, I'd have probably been a better person, who knows? Was I such a bad person? No, I wasn't. A bit boisterous on occasion, made a fool of myself here and there, got a bit of reputation, but now it's all gone, the whole damn lot of it. No hangovers, not many late nights, and I suppose that makes me a more sensible person. 

It's almost 2100hrs, 9 o'clock in old money, and I'm going to be moving to the conservatory to read. I've got two books on the go at present: Charles Bukowski's Ham on Rye (what a brilliant book!) and Geddy Lee's My Effin Life, also an absolutely brilliant book. I'm really obsessed with Rush at the moment. I've been watching interviews on YouTube, I know all about them touring the UK next year (I'm guessing they'll be at Glastonbury and if they are, I'd be tempted to go). Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson are great people, I envy their friendship and I like the fact that they're not rock and roll casuaautiful Booklties. One of these days I'm planning a post dedicated to them. I really want to buy Geddy's  Big Beautiful Book of Bass, it's a coffee table book and I must get it soon. Geddy Lee is a collector, he collects bass guitars and baseballs and he is the lead vocalist and bassist for Rush and they're a great band, enriched by Geddy and Alex's friendship. I won't go on now, I want to write something a little more meaningful and that takes time. Right now I'm too tired and I need to be in the conservatory reading, it's a new routine. Normally I don't read that much at home, I leave it for train journeys, plane journeys and sitting in cafes (my favourite place to read and write). I'm going now, see you again soon I hope.

Boxing day ride...

Riding on Boxing Day has been a tradition ever since this blog was established back in 2009. We've missed a few here and there, but it's always on our radar; sometimes we ride on the 27th December, or possibly later, and yes, sometimes we don't go at all, but it's always there, always discussed and invariably we aim to do it. Yesterday was Boxing Day and while we might have visited Sheree's Tearooms in Tatsfield Village, the place is always closed the day after Christmas so we have to find somewhere else. Back in the day it would have been an open air location, like Woodmansterne Green or the Tatsfield Bus Stop or churchyard, but since the pandemic we've been hiding out in coffee shops and there's no going back. That said, last week (last Saturday) I rode to Oxted and the Nero was packed so I had to sit outside. Fortunately, the weather was fine otherwise I would have decamped to Starbucks or Costa.

Inside Westerham's Esquire's coffee shop, Boxing Day 2025

We decided to ride to Westerham and visit Esquire's Coffee, a franchised operation diagonally across the road from the Costa and, I must say, a million times better. First, it isn't a chain operation, but second it's just better. I can get fed up with Costa, the tea seems to get cold quickly, you don't get more than one cup of tea from the pot and, well, a change is as good as a rest. I like it when the tea pot arrives with another pot of hot water to add to the teapot and make another cup or two, but these days it's not offered. I might start bringing a small flask and adding my own, wonder what they'd say to that?

The weather was fine, warmer than yesterday and, of course, dry, which means ideal cycling weather. The plan was to meet at 1000hrs so I left the house around 0900hrs, probably something like 0915hrs, and hoofed it. Surprisingly, I did it in under one hour, my record for this was set many years ago (52 minutes) but yesterday I managed 55 minutes or thereabouts. I padlocked the bike to some railings across the road, outside the barbers, and then checked my texts. Andy was running late (Garmin and hill issues) so I ordered a tea and sat there on a leather sofa (it probably wasn't real leather) and enjoyed a cup of tea, not in a paper cup as is often the case in Costa, although, as I've probably said before, if you order a large tea in a takeaway cup you get more than if you insist on a pot (or it seems that way) and the tea stays warmer for longer in the insulated cup.

When Andy arrived he bought me another tea and we sat there chilling and talking about what we did the day before (Christmas day). For both of us, it was a family affair and most enjoyable. The television hasn't been brilliant (it seems to be getting worse!) but there are good things if you look for them and steer clear of quiz shows and British celebrities. Mark Gatiss ghost stories are fantastic and can be found on the BBC iplayer if you missed them, there's quite a few of them. I watched a couple. I caught the tail end of The Great Escape (a festive classic!) and a couple of Nick Park animations (both Wallace & Gromit) and there was something good on Netflix, Retreat, starring Cillian Murphy, which kept us occupied. I'll admit that I find more entertainment these days on YouTube especially from the likes of Nomad Sam, Kyle Pidduck, Outdoor Boy, Simon Wilson, Tobe Explores, Homeless Kiwi in London and others (depending upon your own preferences), but YouTube stuff is over in the blink of an eye, there's nothing to 'get into' unless you watch a succession of short videos in one sitting, but these days it's difficult finding anything worth watching apart from the news and that can be tiresome, it often leaves me with more questions than answers, like why are we doing away with trial by jury? Why do we need digital (or any) ID cards? Why is the Royal Family and the rich above the law? Why can't we do more for the homeless, like housing them in four-star hotels?  What exactly is Trump up to in Nigeria? Why can't Putin get the hell out of Ukraine?

It's 27 December, the day after Boxing Day and the dilution of Christmas is well underway, or perhaps it's just started. Soon it will be the day after the day after Christmas Day and thoughts will turn to New Year's Eve (in my opinion, the most depressing day of the entire year). I say it often but both Christmas and New Year are a huge anti-climax. People shop around in the weeks leading up to 'the big day' as if their lives depended on it, shops are packed with people buying in food supplies as if the Government is planning to cut off our heating and power and leave us all with night lights and fires made in the middle of the living room using broken-up furniture; and then, the big day arrives, we have lunch round somebody's house (or our own) and then we're back home and it's all over until next year. New Year is the same but in a different way, there's that awful countdown programme on television, there's the fireworks and what have you, but then you wake up in the morning, on January 1st, only to realise that nothing has changed and everything is how you left it. Back to work, guys, as DJ Audits on YouTube might say. 

Two great rides...to Westerham and Oxted

I've been meaning to ride to Westerham for some time and now I've done it. I had, however, intended to leave the house at 0700hrs, like in the good old days, but didn't get on the road until around 0830hrs. The weather was good. In fact, I was definitely over-dressed with a fleece and a high-viz top I'd bought for a bargain in one of those 'outdoor' shops in Redhill, £23 reduced from £60! Not a bad deal.

Bike with puncture, Costa Westerham

I followed the route of old, up the 269, turning left just past Botley Hill and heading down Clarks Lane, except that instead of simply following the road around and into Westerham I turned left on to Pilgrim's Lane and headed for the Velo Barn. I'll admit that it was on my mind to go there instead but there were so many people arriving from various cycling clubs that I pushed on into the town... and discovered that I had a puncture, the first one in simply ages. Fortunately, it was a front wheel puncture and not a rear wheel affair. The bike limped into Westerham and I parked up outside of Costa and went inside to order a large English Breakfast tea. I took it outside and sat next to the bike. The tyre had completely flattened and it was just a matter of time before I set about fixing it. The weather was amazing, bright sunshine and I spent an inordinate amount of time simply sipping tea and people watching until the moment arrived: I stood up, wheeled the bike to a spot where I had room to turn it upside and begin the boring job of fixing it.

God knows why but I discovered that I didn't have any tyre levers and felt even more deflated than my front tyre. I thought long and hard. Should I go into the Costa and ask for a teaspoon? Should I wander around the stalls of a summer fayre that had been erected on the green and ask somebody for something that might do the job, or...do I ask a fellow cyclist. I chose the latter option and was handed a tyre lever. The guy in question was going in for a coffee, he'd cycled from West Wickham and had been down in Sevenoaks. We chewed the fat about the various hills nearby, like Titsey Hill and White Lane and I think he was fairly impressed by the fact that I was able to do them both with relative ease.

Outside of Caffe Nero in Oxted on Sunday morning...

I fixed the puncture, handed back the tyre lever and headed for home via the antiques shop en route. In side I spotted two amazing-looking picnic sets from the 1950s, like something out of Enid Blyton, and a vintage hose reel, a little rusty, perhaps, but then rusty stuff is all the rage in gardens these days. I wandered deeper into the shop and spotted a 1930s policeman's bicycle, reduced from £450 to just £250. Quite a bargain. I even spotted a Tracey Island toy. 

The tree in all its glory...

The ride back was par for the course and on Sunday I rode to Oxted, going down White Lane instead of Titsey Hill. I stopped at Caffe Nero and ordered a pain aux raisin and a cappuccino and again sat outside people watching until it was time to go. My route home avoided riding up Titsey Hill which I simply wasn't in the mood for; instead I road along Pilgrim's Lane to Rectory Lane and then rode up the hill. In all honesty, the exertion was the same and I should have simply rode up the hill like I normally do. I sped down the 269, along the Limpsfield Road and home and then went out and bought a mower. 

I write this on Monday 16th September. I'm taking the week off, but today is a sad day as our tree in the back garden is coming down. We don't particularly want it to be felled but it's going to be. I really don't like taking out trees. In fact, I've never done it before but our tree is getting out of control and it can't really be trimmed. There are plenty of problems all to do with lack of sunlight, not so much in other people's gardens (or ours) but the tree is sapping the energy of everything in its vicinity; and while it's not a big deal in our garden either, the tree has expanded sideways, it's making the grass mossy and is simply has to go. It's sad.

It's now 1033hrs and all the greenery is off of the tree, the actual greenery was only a few inches in depth meaning that had we trimmed it, the tree would be brown and, we're told, would never green-up again, so it had to come down. Right now it looks like a huge magic mushroom leaning slightly to the right from where we can see it from the house. There's three guys doing the job and I have to say that I wouldn't mind being a tree surgeon. In fact, when I was a kid I used to want to be a tree surgeon. Why, I don't know, but there used to be a company called Pennell ('the tree people') and they must have been fairly active around where I lived in Carshalton, hence my desire to be a tree surgeon. It's actually quite a cool job, you spend all your time in the fresh air, up a tree with a chain saw, I love it! And it's quite cool to be able to say, if asked, that you're a tree surgeon. You could possibly start off just saying you're a surgeon and then adding the tree bit later, but hey, I love the idea of being a tree surgeon, I'd hate to be a medical surgeon.

The tree at 1047hrs on 16th September.

Any way, it's had to come down, more's the pity, but that's the way of the world, it's not down yet, but that'll be the next part of the job. They're having coffees and Jaffa Cakes at this present time, but work will resume shortly. It's 1041 and work has restarted.

It won't be long before all trace of the tree is gone; it's been part of the house for many years and we've really enjoyed it's company. We've watched it grow and we loved it and we still do but there comes a time when things have to be done and that's about all I can say. I'm now looking at rhododendrens and possibly even another tree, one that won't grown so high, but let's see. 

Yesterday I bought a new mower, it arrives on Thursday and the grass will need a jolly good cut after that, then we'll start looking at how we can improve the space vacated by the tree.

I wasn't expecting the garden to look very good after the tree came down and I was expecting to be exposed to all the neighbours in the next street, but no, thanks to other shrubs and bushes behind the tree we took down, it looked okay. In fact, it looked great. The garden was sunnier than before and there were no big shadows cast across the lawn that were there before. So, in reality, while we all thought it was going to be a mistake, it wasn't, and we're definitely going to make the area look better with a few new shrubs and bushes, but, as I say, all is fine and, when all is said and done, the tree should have come down a long time ago. Look, I hate taking trees out and I'm hoping I can put one back in now that I've actually had one removed. I'll leave it there for now, actually, I'll simply leave it there, it's done, it's dusted, the tree won't be coming back and on one level, yes, it's sad, but on another level we can fix the grass, the neighbour's happy and we're happy.

To Oxted....

I hadn't been to Oxted for a while as the hill coming out is always a little daunting but 100% achievable. I've been doing shorter rides, some non-stop, others a little closer to home, like ending up at the Sheep Shed and enjoying a cup of English breakfast tea and an almond croissant.Today I left the house without really thinking about where I was going. I might well have done another non-stop ride via St. Leonard's church and Washpond Lane, a kind of twist on the conventional Weeble involving Beech Farm Road and Botley Hill and it is there, of course, that I have discovered the Sheep Shed, a perfect venue for a hot day.

The Sheep Shed, Botley Hill

The weather has stepped up a little lately with plenty of hot sunny days and weekends, which is great as there's been a lot of rain too, all very depressing. So I'm riding the 269 wondering what to do and I'm thinking I'll just turn at the roundabout at Botley Hill and come straight back, 14 miles, that's good enough, I thought, but Oxted was nagging at me and as I reached the roundabout I thought fuck it and pedalled down Titsey, picking up speed at the bottom and soaring into Oxted whilst considering the coffee shop in Limpsfield (Coffee at Kiwi House). It was, therefore, a last minute decision to turn right and not follow the road round into Limpsfield village. Instead I headed along Granville and into Oxted High Street, the perfect place to be on a sunny Saturday morning.

There's plenty of choice: Starbucks, Costa, Coughlan's, and, of course, Caffe Nero at the top on the left and, as always, I opted for the latter. There's something very pleasant about spending around 30 minutes sitting outside Caffe Nero on a sunny Saturday morning, people watching, and that's just what I did before checking out the charity shop and then riding home.

All the way to the hill I kept thinking of ways out of it. I considered turning right on Pilgrim's Lane and then taking a left a long way down the road and coming back as if I'd been to Westerham. I thought about White Lane, but realised, obviously, that that would be even more difficult and soon the hill was upon me and, as always, I took it in my stride.

I decided later not to turn right on Beech Farm Road as I have been doing of late (to increase the mileage, but mainly to avoid the dangerous bit of the 269 (the last bit before reaching Warlingham). Instead I just pressed ahead and all was well. I took me roughly one hour from Oxted to home

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.

Helsinki to London

It was another one of those occasions when I arrived at the airport early, giving me the full two-hour airport experience. A colleague had dropped me off and now I found myself at the check-in area. Having checked myself in whilst on the night boat to Helsinki, I was annoyed to discover that there was still a lot of faffing about with technology. First I had to place my passport into a machine and then I had to print out the label that I would need to attach to my suitcase before sending it on its way to the aircraft. I was having to do all these jobs that used to be done by a human being. I often wonder what those human beings are doing now, perhaps they're unemployed.

Just one of the snacks I enjoyed, this in Brod & Salt, Stockholm 

Then, it was time for "security" and for some reason only one scanner was working, just one scanner. There was a huge queue, which I found annoying. Where were the people who could be operating the other scanners? Perhaps they were unemployed too, but hold on, this is Finland, it's a cool country (actually, it's freezing) but what I mean is, it's laid back and relaxed and things normally work so well. So I was amazed to discover English hassles in Finland, but soon it was over and I was left to my own devices for a whole two hours. I needed to find a decent restaurant in which to chill out. As you know from reading the previous post I chose Nordic Kitchen from where I ordered an open salmon sandwich, a couple of bars of Fazer chocolate (the small bars) and a green tea. I then sat there eating.The sandwich was excellent, the Fazer chocolate even better and the green tea nice and refreshing.

So men have tits and wear dresses do they Prada?

My flight was due to leave from Gate 46, which was a longish walk from where I was sitting, but there was plenty of time so I wasn't in any way stressed and I wasn't planning on using the automated walkways. But I wasn't as chilled out as I should have been. For some reason I was not relaxed enough to read my book, Eat, Sleep, Cycle by Anna Hughes, so instead I just sat there deep in thought about something mundane. I was, of course, on the last leg of my trip and was looking forward to the flight home to London, albeit a flight that was scheduled to take off after dark at 1935hrs, meaning I wouldn't be able to see a thing out of the window. I was sitting in seat 23a, which is odd as the gate coming out here was 23 so the number had cropped up more than once on the trip. I find myself getting superstitious when I fly. I start by adding up all the numbers on my boarding pass, ie the flight number and so forth, and I hope and pray they never add up to 13. It's stupid, I know, but it makes me feel better about things. One of these days, of course, the numbers won't go in my favour and I'll be faced with a dilemma: change my flight or go with what I've got. I know, it's really stupid.

Twisting corridor, Birger Jarl hotel, Stockholm

Technology is the most annoying thing. I decided to transfer my boarding pass to the 'wallet' app on my iphone and then the battery ran out so I had to approach the person on the gate and ask for a printed boarding pass. What I hate more than anything is a "full flight" and this was one of them, every seat taken and everybody with hand luggage that really should have been stowed in the hold. I think the thing I hate most about flying is the other passengers. There was one woman with a suitcase, a laptop AND a large bag but nobody thought to stop her from boarding with all three. Most of the other passengers were the same and this caused a lot of hassle. All the overhead lockers were jammed with bags and rucksacks and the cabin crew were left to make it work, which it did in the end.

Ready for minus 14 Helsinki.

All flights are late to take off and this one must have been around 30 minutes later than scheduled. We roared down the runway and up into the skies and most of the flight was fine, but loads of problems started to arise for me once we'd left the ground, not major problems, just hassles. Earlier, when I disembarked from the boat, I'd foolishly left my adaptor and phone charger in the socket by the desk. This in itself was odd as once I had finished packing my suitcase I triple-checked everything to ensure that nothing had been left behind. I'd cleared security on the way out when I remembered and was fortunately allowed back on the ship to retrieve my stuff. My big mistake, which would affect things later on, was that I shoved my charger and adaptor into my suitcase, which I later checked in when I reached the airport. Sitting in Nordic Kitchen I noticed that I had 24% battery left so I switched off the phone to save power, but then I realised I'd need it to show my boarding pass at the gate. I went to switch on the phone and it simply wouldn't power up (remember, this is a fairly new iphone, it's about a year, possibly two years old and I certainly didn't expect it to start playing the tricks my other iphones have played, ie switching themselves off when the battery was low but not that low. Anyway, not only was I now unable to use my phone, I noticed that my watch was powering down too and will probably need a new battery. At the gate I managed to get the aforementioned printed boarding pass but I had no way of knowing what time it was and I couldn't charge my phone because the charger was in my suitcase which I'd checked in. Annoying how earlier actions, however small, come back to bite me when I least expect it.

Generally speaking the flight was fine, but all hell broke lose around an hour before landing in the UK, the plane being buffeted from side-to-side in the wind and rain. In the end I was used to it and it didn't bother me, but I was distracted enough not to read my book. Not having a watch that worked meant I had no idea how long there was to go before we landed. Normally when I fly I'm always looking at my watch and counting down the hours and the minutes until the pilot announces that the plane is about to descend into wherever I happen to be going, but this time I had no idea. There was a bald-headed man in front of me watching boxing on his iphone and I managed to spot the time, 2154hrs, meaning we'd been up for a couple of hours and had just under an hour to go. The severe weather, however, offered me no hints. I couldn't see for a start so I had to wait and let things unfold without me; I grinned and beared it all. Suddenly the captain made an announcement, but first he made it in Finnish and it seemed to take ages; then he spoke English and basically he was saying we would shortly begin our descent into London Heathrow. That normally means we're around 25 to 30 minutes away from landing. 

The plane slowly descended, rocking to and fro as it made its way towards terra firma. Eventually things calmed down. Then, the usual announcement that always baffles me. "Cabin crew, 10 minutes to landing" and it's normally at this point that I look out of the window and notice lights way way below me and I start thinking there's no way he's going to get all that way in just 10 minutes. Some times they do, other times, well, I can never remember if they ever do it in 10 minutes. Next time I'll time it.

Once on the ground the plane wound its way around the tarmac and eventually came to a standstill, but then all the passengers had to get off and get their bags out of the overhead lockers. It took an age and I had a minicab waiting for me. The problem now, of course, was that I couldn't call the driver until I'd retrieved my case from baggage reclaim, found the charger and charged the phone. This I did, sitting in a Caffe Nero and when the phone lit up I noticed many missed calls from an unknown mobile number, it was my minicab driver. I called him and we arranged a meeting place. Outside there was driving rain and shiny streets and pavements, and it continued all the way home on the M25. It had been raining all day and if I'm honest, I preferred the minus 14 degrees of Helsinki.

I reached home around 2300hrs, hit the sack around 2330hrs and now here I am, it's Friday morning and I've got the day off, the rain has stopped and I'm in the garden room blogging. 

Oxted and Westerham

I left the house at 0700hrs. It's almost mid-October and the weather is still fine, really fine. It wasn't cold, put it that way, almost tee-shirt weather. In fact, forget 'almost', it is tee-shirt weather. I was headed for Westerham to meet Andy around 0800hrs. It's been a long time since I left the house at such an ungodly hour. I was going used to the 0800hrs start, but today it was out of the question, I had things going on, it wasn't one of those nothing days that allowed me to lol around, but it suited me fine. The 269 was quiet. I forgot how quiet. Leave an hour later and there's cars to contend. Leave early and they're few and far between. There were a few cyclists around, there always is and the journey was plain sailing all the way.

A mile or so out of Westerham on the return ride today...

I turned on to Clarks Lane and coasted downhill and into Westerham. I got there just after 0800hrs and Andy was still queuing. I joined him, although he was ahead of me and didn't spot me until he'd received his order and was heading for the table by the window. We acknowledged one another and then later, armed with a large English Breakfast tea, I joined him and we chatted. We talked about bikes, about Andy's stationary bike and his 10 miles per day routine, except for weekends when he rides a real bike. I spoke about Park Runs and how I was thinking about doing one. A 5k run in the park, but do I want to risk injury like last time? Every time I take up running I injure myself, either my back or my knee.I escape injury when I'm cycling so perhaps if I'm going to take up something else, perhaps it should be swimming. I used to swim a lot and was recently listening to a podcast about the health benefits of swimming, something to do with blood vessels, I can't remember the details.

The journey home was uneventful. Andy left first and then I followed as always. I take a different route, past the antique shop and up towards the Velobarn. Andy rides through the high street and then follows the route I took on the way in. Today I decided to ride Pilgrim's all the way to Titsey Hill and then all the way up. It's easy enough and reminded me of another part of Andy and I's conversation back at the Costa Coffee. We were talking about nills and some guy on the internet had posted a video about challenging hills in Surrey. Andy said he focused on Chalkpit Lane, claiming it was one of the big inclines. In a sense it is. 20%, but only at the very top. Andy and I thought there were worse, like Succombs, and the hill heading into Knockholt from the other end of Pilgrim's Lane.

I rode up Chalkpit yesterday (Saturday) after spending a little time in Oxted, in a Caffe Nero, sipping green tea and enjoying an apricot something or other, I can't remember what it was called. A pastry of some sort. It was a good ride but I wasn't looking forward to the climb. Before I left town I stopped at the charity shop, for all of five minutes and then I headed home. Chalkpit isn't easy but I just keep going, it's the only way to deal with hills.

I managed two rides, Oxted and Westerham, around 40 miles in total. The rest of the day was fine, as was today, and as I said, the weather held too and apparently it's going to be good for a few more days. Right now, it's 2305 and I'm watching Reptile with Justin Timberlake, it's quite good but I'm not staying up much longer as there's work tomorrow. That's the great thing about Netflix, you can stop and start movies whenever you wish.

Getting my act together...slowly but surely!

It's been three weeks and one day since I drank my last cappuccino. I was concerned that the high calorie beverage was, among other high calorie foodstuffs, piling on the weight (I'm almost 13 stone, or I was when I last weighed myself). I'm putting it all down to cake and cappuccino and, it has to be said, not a great deal of exercise. Now you might think this an odd thing to say when you consider that, on average, I walk 5km per day, recently took part in a 27km walk and have recently (that's the word to watch, 'recently') got my mojo back where cycling is concerned (even if I could add the phrase 'but only just').

Things got messy...

But let's digress a little and talk about food. As mentioned, I've been off the cappuccinos now for three weeks and one day (not that I'm counting) and I've been trying my best on the cake front; in fact, on that subject, I've been doing fine and have only succumbed a little bit to the odd biscuit (Lotus Biscoffs) but no cake. Well, until yesterday morning in Oxted and it was all unnecessary. I arrived in Oxted roughly on time and cycled up the high street towards my normal place of refreshment, Caffe Nero. But there was a queue. I padlocked the bike and considered standing there as the people ahead of me ordered their complicated drinks ('Can I have two single shot soya lattes, one normal coffee with a dab of cinnamon, two English Breakfast teas...') but in the end I couldn't be bothered. Instead I walked down the high street with a view to a Costa. But I was waylaid by a colourful display of cakes from the window and servery counter of a Coughlan's bakery. In I walked with the idea of just having a cup of tea, but no, one look at the coconut bakewells and I was hooked. 

"Is that all, sir?"

"Er, it should be, but I'll have a coconut bakewell..."

And then I sat outside making a mess, the bike padlocked outside the Nero up the road. I realised my mistake as I munched through the cake. It was flaky, bits falling off left, right and centre and it was hard to get the thing in my mouth. I must have looked like a right pig and that was because I was one. I consoled myself with the fact that it was my first cake in three weeks and one day, and the fact that I'd be cycling home up some steep hills (Titsey and White Lane). Perhaps I'd burn all the calories I was putting on. Who knows? Not me and that's for sure. Anyway, I soon forgot about the cake once I'd finished it. A mild sense of guilt lingered and that all but disappeared as I found myself riding up White Lane (a major hill). Two women who were driving in the other direction slowed and congratulated me for being such a good sport. One of them said she couldn't do it to which I replied that I could only just do it. I was lying. I knew I could do it, I'd done it the week before and sure enough I completed the task and then rode nonchalantly towards the Botley Hill roundabout and the ride back along the 269 towards Warlingham and eventually home.

Getting back to my cycling record for 2023, it hasn't been a good year. I think it would be fair to say that since I started riding a bike as an adult (back in 2006 when Andy and I began our ongoing obsession with cycling). I think it's a lot to do with two things: most notably, the weather, which, during the early months of the year were a little more horrendous than years gone by. I don't know why but we were dogged with rain and snow and ice and cold and it's meant plenty of abort texts even as the year progressed from winter to spring to summer. But that's when the travelling took over. There have been weeks of it and by that I mean that I might have gone away on one Saturday and then returned on the following Saturday, that's two weeks without a ride. Then there were times when I couldn't ride my usual trip to Oxted on a Saturday for another reason (I can't remember what, but it's certainly be a problem). In essence the whole situation has been most unsatisfactory and I've noticed that my only point of motivation is Andy. Because we meet on a Sunday morning I know that, give or take, I'll be up and out of the house by 0800hrs and giving myself a 22-mile ride in the process.

Things have been slow. Once I get out of kilter everything slips and soon I found myself dipping down from last summer's high of three to four rides a week (24-milers) to this year's one ride a week at best. But there is good news. I'm getting back in the swing of things. For the past two weeks it's been two rides a week and my Saturday ride to Oxted is back, including a ride up White Lane on two consecutive weeks now. As I was saying to Andy this morning in Westerham as we sat and chatted over an English Breakfast tea (me) and a soya latte (Andy) - we had two - I might start riding the Norfolk Nobbler during the week if I can just keep my energy levels up and not succumb to the need for a couple of slices of bread and honey slumped in front of the television (which has been my thing these past few months).

Today's ride was good. When I woke up it was raining. I could see the drops in the birdbath and started to wonder - and worry - if an abort was on the cards. But it's not cold so I think rain or not I would have gone out. But by the time 0800hrs came around it was dry and there was no sign of a downpour so off I went following the usual route and not experiencing any difficulties. The bike's been performing relatively well too so I took the liberty of giving it a jolly good wash this afternoon as the sun was out and we have a hose fitted to the outside tap. To be honest, I thought the hose was broken and hadn't bothered trying to fix it because I thought we didn't have the parts. Clearly we did have the parts and that meant I could give the bike a hose down. It's nice and clean now but I need to oil the chain before next week's ride (which means I'll be oiling it next Saturday morning).

It's been a good weekend, but I need more money and urgently so if anybody out there is reading this who knows how I can make a quick couple of grand (legally), let me know as I hate being broke. I'm a good writer, I can organise conferences, I can do most things and I can write about most things too, particularly hotels and restaurants and travelling. I'm assuming I must have some 'fans' out there as recently my blog's weekly page views topped 11,500, which is pretty damn good if you ask me, an all-time high. Basically, I should be in demand! Anyway, if you have anything, let me know.

Yesterday I spent a few hours in the Glades Shopping Centre in Bromley. How boring was that? I spent most of my time in HMW and Waterstone's checking out books and albums and had a brief moment in the M&S cafe where I had nothing more than a small bottle of sparkling mineral water (mainly because I'm trying to keep debts down). I was starving by yesterday evening and was grateful for the mashed potatoes, greens and fillet of salmon. 

Little else to report. I drove to mum's in the evening (Sunday), enjoyed a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits (yes, I know, that should have been avoided) and then drove back in the summer evening sun. Watched a bit of the elitist crap that is Wimbledon tennis and hit the sack around 2300hrs after a Sleepy Time Bear tea. Slept like a log and now it's Monday and time for work.

A strange dream about a beard and more thoughts about riding to work...

A couple days ago I had a dream. In the dream I sported a large and bushy beard that was uneven on the right hand side and I felt a strong urge to cut off the offending bit just to even things out a bit. For some reason I found myself walking around or through the corridors of an expensive hotel, looking for the lift and while doing so spotted an old friend from a long time ago. I remember wondering why he was working in the hotel, but I never stopped to converse with him. Next I found myself standing by the side of some kind of pond and there was a man in the water wearing waterproof trousers, but where the waterproof bits ended there was a real risk that the man would get wet and the very thought of it made me feel uncomfortable. I have no idea why he was wearing waterproof clothing or why he was in the water and the next thing I knew I was awake and it was morning.

When the gates open I ride out and head for home...

Sometimes I don't feel like riding the bike to work. I managed to ride on Tuesday and my plan is to ride again tomorrow, Thursday. But today (Wednesday 10th August) I took the train in and the bus home. By going just one way by train I only spend £4.80 instead of £9.40 and that means that this week (if I ride the bike tomorrow) my total expenditure on train fares is just £9.60 instead of the usual pre-bike bill of almost £38. The last thing I want to do is give Southern Rail any more of my money than I have to, so I ride to work and I get fit in the process (and I lose a bit of weight). I rode Tuesday morning and it was a good ride in; I must have broken a record of sorts because even though the inward ride involved me stopping to buy shower gel at the Co-op in Merstham I still managed to shower and dress and be at my desk around 0810hrs. Now, considering I'd been faffing around in the shower, which is a good 20 minutes of balancing on one leg, trying to dry my feet before placing them on the tiled floor and then all the messing around drying the rest of myself, that means I must have arrived at the office around 0750hrs, which means I rode the distance in what, well, actually, I couldn't really tell the exact time because my iphone let me down, or rather I let myself down by forgetting to charge it. Still, I left the house around 0637, if you account for messing around in the Co-op as five minutes, that means I would have started the ride at 0642 so that means it took my just one hour and eight minutes when it normally takes me around one hour and 10 or even one hour and 16 minutes, so I'm managing to shave time off the ride, which is good.

The ride back was good too. Again, however, I felt the need to stop at the Merstham Co-op, this time to buy some mineral water. I need the water to hydrate myself before the climb up White Hill Lane and later up Tithepit Shaw Lane and believe me it helps. After swigging half of the bottle I sailed up the hill and felt great when I reached the top; I did the same before ascending Tithepit Shaw Lane and once both hills were conquered I only had a short ride along Wentworth, on to the Limpsfield Road, through Sanderstead's high street and then through the churchyard and down Church Way to home. The other week, or perhaps it was the other day, my wife was following me down Church Way without me knowing. She'd been to Waitrose to pick up some food and followed me down the hill. She said I ride miles too fast and she's probably right, but I kind of know what I'm doing, I keep a weather eye on the streets and roads ahead of me and I'm always covering my brakes.

When I got home last night I was whacked out. So much so that I fell asleep in a crumpled pile on the sofa and had to be woken up around 11pm after which I went to bed and slept through until 0530hrs. It was this morning that I was considering riding in, even leaving the house later at, say, 0700hrs, but in the end I simply couldn't face it. Instead I was given a lift to the station from where I paid my £4.80 and took the 0848 train to East Croydon where I switched over to Platform 6 and picked up a Gatwick train, which I knew stopped at Redhill. All day I felt relieved that I didn't have to ride the bike home, I was simply not in the mood. The very thought of changing into my cycling gear and riding towards Warwick Wold Road and the hills that followed filled me with dread. Instead I sat on the bus for all of 40 minutes reading Philip Roth's American Pastoral and now I'm sitting in the garden writing this blogpost. But tomorrow I ride and hopefully also on Friday even if I am on a day off. If I ride tomorrow I must ride either on Friday or Saturday to keep up with my four rides a week.

Yesterday (Thursday 11th August) there was a strong temptation not to ride to work again, but I was conscious of how I'd been saving money and denying Southern Railway a little bit of profit and felt good about it, so I simply had to ride the bike. I left the house around 0700hrs and it was a wonderful ride. The sun wasn't properly up yet so it was relatively cool all the way in. Put simply, I loved it! I showered and went upstairs to work and during the day the conversation, with my pal Garth, turned to his 1287 Loop ride in which he rode down Hilltop Lane on the way back. Hilltop is the road I'm effectively riding towards as I come up Warwick Wold Road prior to turning right into Springbottom Lane. By continuing up Hilltop I avoid the dreaded White Hill Lane, but the rumour is that Hilltop is just as punishing, if not more so.

Around 1800hrs I leave the office in the heat of the evening and head towards the sticks, excited by the prospect of a new hill and possibly one that presents more of a challenge that White Hill Lane. I fill a water container with lemon-flavoured water. There was a lemon in a bowl in the kitchen so I squeezed it into the water to give myself a flavoured drink. At the foot of Hilltop I stopped and drank half of it and then I set off. Before I tackle White Hill Lane I crank the bike down into the lowest of gears, but on this occasion, as I wasn't sure what to expect, I kept it in the middle of the front crank and as the ride progressed I didn't feel the need to change down. At intervals I stood up on the pedals, not really finding the hill any great effort. The worst bit (if it can be called such) was a right hand turn climb but I still didn't change down and then, there it was, a sign reading 'Chaldon' and the end of the climb. I felt good because I wasn't feeling like I normally feel (knackered) after climbing White Hill Lane. Hilltop continued on the flat and was peppered with pleasant-looking houses all the way to a crossroads. I knew not to go straight ahead down Church Lane because that led to Coulsdon and would have resulted in a ride along the A23 into Purley and besides, the road was closed. My aim was a right turn towards Caterham on the Hill along Dove Road, which proved to be bad road, lots of cars and slightly precarious. There was a mini roundabout and a shop called Chaldon Books, here I turned left and headed towards an Esso Garage then it was a right turn on to Burntwood Lane and then I was back on Whyteleafe Hill and the fairly fast coast towards the railway crossing at the bottom. Normally at this point I would be feeling tired and longing to be home, but I was feeling pretty chipper I has to be said. I finished off the lemon-infused water at the bottom of Tithepit Shaw Lane and then sailed up the hill without a care in the world. Not riding up White Hill Lane clearly preserved a lot of energy and when I reached home I was still majorly energised, so much so that a ride to Hurst Green and a pub called the Haycutter for dinner wasn't a big effort. I enjoyed cod and chips with mushy peas and a small bottle of sparkling mineral water. Even when we reached home I felt fine so there's something to be said for not opting for the steep hill. That said, Dove Road put me off so I won't be riding up Hilltop Lane for some time, I'll be enduring White Hill Lane.

This morning (Friday 12 August) I kind of knew I wouldn't be riding to work and I didn't. I figured that if I ride to Oxted in the morning that would be fine as it would mean four rides (Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday). So here's hoping I'll get up tomorrow, feeling fine, and that I'll look out, notice the amazing weather and then head towards Oxted for a green tea in the sunshine outside of Caffe Nero.

A slow puncture ruins the day...but not for long

The great thing about taking Friday off is that you wake up on Saturday thinking it's Sunday and then you realise it's only Saturday and you feel fantastic knowing there's another day before you have to head back to work. Not that I find going to work a hassle, it's just nice being off and not thinking about it.

On Saturday, later than usual, I headed for Oxted in Surrey, thinking it was Sunday but knowing it was Saturday. I left the house around a quarter to eleven, something like that and it took me roughly 54 minutes to reach my destination: Caffe Nero. I'd cycled along Clarks Lane and turned right into White Lane and then, as I rode down the steep hill I figured I could easily cycle up it, but then decided no, not today and besides, riding to Oxted, sitting in Caffe Nero and sipping a large green tea in the hot sunshine was enough entertainment for me. 

A chilled ride to Oxted on Saturday led me to Caffe Nero and a green tea!

The ride to Oxted was fine but because it was Saturday and not Sunday there was a fair amount of traffic on the 269, which was a little bit unsettling. I considered riding back through Woldingham but in the end didn't bother, even if the 269 was just as tricky on the return ride. It was, of course, later than usual and there was more traffic on the road. 

I reached home around 1pm, had a light lunch (a salad sandwich of all things and a yoghurt (make that two) and not forgetting another green tea. And now, as the huge conifer at the top of our garden casts its long shadow across the lawn (it's almost half past three in the afternoon) I'm considering doing one of the many chores that need to be done around the house. Tomorrow I ride early to Westerham to meet Andy.

To Westerham!

Today, Sunday, I left the house around 0806 and followed the usual route to Westerham, along the 269, which was fine. It took me 55 minutes, a little longer than last week's 52 minutes but hey ho! Andy was there and we chatted about bike stuff covering subjects like the London-Edinburgh-London event, which is happening now. It's around 1,000 miles, 500 each way and it seems like a hard slog. Then we discussed Timmy Mallet who has just finished his mammoth round the UK coastline trip, travelling clockwise (as opposed to Mike Carter's anti-clockwise trip). I think he arrived home yesterday as there's video on Twitter of his emotional arrival back home. Andy said he was a little emotional after his first Ride London and I'd imagine after spending four or five months on the bike, travelling around the coastline of the country, being a free agent, enjoying your own company, meeting some interesting people and generally enjoying the ride, it would be weird coming home, getting used to not being on the bike, getting used to not being that free agent, not arriving in a strange town, living the hotel life, but yes it would be emotional too and for many reasons, one being actually doing it, or having done it. Quite an achievement so I'd imagine there would be plenty of emotions running wild. Mallett was a little tearful when he saw that his family and friends had turned out to welcome him home and I must take my hat off to him for doing the ride and for living the dream (it's certainly my dream and probably, like all of my dreams, destined to be dashed on the rocks of reality sooner or later). When is there ever time to ride a bike around the coast of the UK? Mind you, there are other things to do that might be a little more realistic. There's a guy on Twitter called Will, as in "Will is too honest to be an MP" and he seems to run wild camping-based bike trips. Now that might be fun for a few nights.

Slow puncture!

We eventually decided it was time to head home and all was well until I noticed a slight wobble. I get the feeling I had that same wobble on the ride down, but this time it seemed more pronounced and yes, it was. I had a puncture. I advised Andy to carry on and he did as I slowed to halt and tried to figure out how I was going to play things. The puncture seemed like a slow one, so there were options. I could try pumping it up and seeing if I could get home or I could fix it by the roadside. I pulled up on to the side of the road and thought things through. In the end, I decided to ride back in to Westerham, the plan being another cup of tea and then fix the bike on the green. In the end I didn't buy any tea. I took the wheel off, took out the inner tube, pumped it up and tried to listen for the hiss. There wasn't one. I'd need a sink of water to find this one, I thought, marching in to the Costa and discovering there was no plug in the sink. Fucking nightmare. Now what? I tried putting the inner tube close to my face but there was no breeze, nothing, leading me to the conclusion that I'd have to put the wheel back on the bike, pump it up and see if I could get home before it went down. I reckoned it was a very slow puncture and that I'd likely make it so that's what I did. It proved to be the right thing to do as it wasn't until I reached Church Way that the wobble returned and by the time I was outside of my own garage door I was still in one piece as I rolled the bike back in to the garage and went inside for something to eat, ie a salad sandwich of chopped watercress, tomato, onion and mayo on brown bread followed by some ginger-flavoured yoghurt and a banana smoothie. It was then time to fix the puncture. I turned over the bike in the garage, took off the wheel and removed the inner tube, plunged the latter into a bowl of cold water and lo and behold I found the puncture. Normally I fix punctures with "Leeches" but there don't appear to be any in the bike shops so I settled for 'Scabs' which don't look as if they're as good (only time will tell on that one I guess). It all worked and soon I had the wheel pumped up and back on the bike. All I can do now is wait and see how firm it is in the morning. If it's flat in the morning I'll be taking the train, but let's hope it won't be.

It's hot outside. In fact, the hot weather has been commonplace over the last few weeks and there's been no sign of any rain and no let-up on the heat. Long may it continue is what I say. I'm not one of those people who say a drop of rain will be good for the garden, that's far too Daily Mail for me; I'll leave phrases like that to my mum, but what I do wish is that I could go to the South Coast for a night or two and swim in the sea during the day, it's simply something I must do and soon, spend the day by the sea just chilling. I need to do this but don't really have anybody who feels the same way, which is a big shame. I have this idea of arriving fairly early, let's say 1000hrs. I'd bring the wind break and a cool box full of goodies, possibly a newspaper, definitely a book and a fully-charged radio and then sit there all morning, until about 1230hrs or 1300hrs. A lot depends on the tides. If it's high then a swim straightaway, if the tide is out then just chilling, listening to the radio, munching a sandwich or a Scotch egg, whatever I've brought along, and eventually, probably around 1600hrs start to consider going back to wherever I'm staying. The whole thing would then be repeated the following day and then I'd drive home happy. In many ways it's all I want and I certainly want to do it before the weather turns and everybody starts counting down to Christmas. It's already started: the BBC has announced some of the line-up for this year's Strictly Come Dancing, which is basically a countdown to Christmas. It'll be interesting to see how the greed merchants play it this year as there's a big cost of living crisis brewing and the last thing we'll all need is commercial television trying to tempt us with the thought of a new this or a new that; they can all fuck off. All I want to do is stare at the sea for a couple of days and I'll be happy and unstressed, not that I've been that stressed of late. I'm sleeping well, eating well and feel well, give or take, and I put it all down to cycling to work three days a week, upping my cycling from two to four days per week and tackling some big hills in the process. I'm definitely a little fitter and long may it continue.

Two rides to Oxted and back up Titsey Hill

After my four consecutive 20-miler rides last weekend I'm afraid I didn't ride out again until yesterday (Saturday) meaning my riding was roughly 60 miles this week, thanks to the Easter Bank Holiday and the good weather. Having enjoyed riding to Oxted immensely over recent weeks, even climbing up Titsey was kind of fun, I decided to keep at it. On both occasions this weekend I chose Starbucks as my tea venue even if it is £2.88 for a cuppa, albeit a very large one. Although, oddly, I was a bit miffed at having to pay such a price. A cup of tea? Nearly £3? It was cheaper in the Caffe Nero, but the cup was smaller too, that's why I opted for the Starbucks. Also, the Starbucks was brand new and spacious and for some reason I quite like it. What I might do now that the weather is improving is buy myself a drinks container for £11.99 (Starbucks says it won't leak) meaning I could ride to Oxted with a cup of tea, perhaps bring a tiny drop of milk, and then sit in the park until it's time to ride home. The thing is I quite like being in the coffee shop, ie the Starbucks or the Caffe Nero so buying the container isn't a great idea. We'll see.

Sunday: Tea at Starbucks, £2.88!

Both rides were good, although the weather was certainly a little cooler than the Easter weekend. Not that much cooler, but definitely cooler. On Saturday I sat by the window reading a copy of the Daily Mail that somebody had left behind. I read my stars because, for some reason, even though I don't believe them, I like to think there might be some truth in them, especially if they're full of good news, which they were to a certain extent. I read a bit about Russia, Putin and Ukraine, skipped through some awful stories about children being killed by their parents (in one case a woman addicted to crack cocaine and a young boy with serious asthma problems). Once again, the young child was failed by social workers, which never fails to annoy me. Soon, as always, it was time to head home and the thought of riding up Titsey is no longer daunting. I plan to keep doing it. In fact, the ride to Oxted is good, albeit the 269 is involved, but the earlier I depart, the quieter it is and the return journey is always fine for some reason, although I'm aware that I need to keep a weather eye on motorists as some of them are not at all good and pay very little attention to cyclists. I could (and perhaps should) take The Ridge and ride into Woldingham, far safer it has to be said, but sometimes I like the idea of just getting back home and besides, for some reason, I don't like riding down Slines Oak Road for the top of Woldingham. I don't mind the steep bit at the other end and to be honest I should do my level best to avoid the 269.

Sunday: on the road towards Titsey Hill

The ride up Titsey is almost leisurely. I know that sounds daft when you consider it's a fairly steep and long hill, but once I get going and settle in to it, the ride up is fine and because it's so long and a little monotonous, it's possible to switch off and simply glide up thinking about other things or just losing myself in the scenery. On either side, for instance, there are woods and because the hill means travelling fairly slowly, there's enough time to take them in, enjoy the relative peace and quiet, listen to the birds and generally chill until the sign for Botley Hill appears and I know then that the climb is over. Last week, when I was riding down Titsey on the way to Oxted, actually when I reached the road and everything had levelled out, just before going under the motorway, I saw a massive bird of prey. It was huge, the wingspan must have been around four feet, I don't know, but it was amazing, great to see so early in the morning, and this is what I love about riding a bike into the sticks, which I do all the time. 

Woods on the ride up Titsey Hill

It's important to keep your mind on the road when you're riding down Titsey. It's a 16% drop and the bike can pick up a fair speed, you've got cars going up and down and then you've got White Lane on your left and very often a car suddenly appears and you don't want it pulling out in front of you. I keep my hands slightly pressed on the brakes, slowing the bike down, and it's important to remember that White Lane isn't the only turning on the left that could present problems should a car emerge from it; there's also Pilgrims Lane. Today I worked out that there's an off-road route all the way down on the left hand side of Titsey. I need to check it out. I know about the off-road ride on the right hand side as Andy and I have done it before. Somewhere on this blog there is a photograph of me, taken by Andy, circa 2011 I think, as we reached the end of the off-road track. I think a puddle is involved but my memory is sketchy.

On the downward ride, once the hill is out of the way, the rest of the journey is pretty smooth sailing, particularly after riding under the motorway and entering Limpsfield Village. There's a right turn on a bend into Bluehouse Lane and then a left turn in to Granville, which is a long road, fairly flat, flanked on either side by large houses. At the end there's another left turn and then, with the library on the left, it's a short ride to the high street.

Sunday: Tall trees on Titsey

Both rides this weekend were pretty similar. On Saturday I spent a little time in the charity shop next to the Caffe Nero. You might recall from a previous post that I found a pair of binoculars and a tiny violin in the charity shop. Well, they're both still there, albeit on different shelves. I spent all of three minutes in the store and then resigned myself to the ride back. On Sunday, I parked up the bike outside the Caffe Nero, as I did on Saturday, and then walked down to the Starbucks. The place was busier than yesterday and I momentarily found myself wondering whether to go back to the Caffe Nero, but in the end I stuck with Starbucks and this time sat outside next to a dad and his two kids. Saturday, as you know, I sat by the window reading the Daily Mail. There were five or six Vespa scooters parked up on the other side of the road and eventually the owners emerged from somewhere and rode off up the high street. It sounded like a bunch of petrol lawnmowers and all the riders were old blokes. There was something a little sad and corny about the whole episode, unlike the previous day (Saturday) when I complimented a motorcyclist on his great bike, a 2011 Honda 750 with a V-twin engine. We chatted briefly as I feared his motorcycle knowledge was greater than mine, and then I jumped on my bike and rode off, but not as fast (or as cool) as the guy on the Honda.

On Sunday, half way up the appropriately named Titsey Hill on the ride home, I stumbled across a soft porn magazine that somebody had clearly thrown from a car window. There was a lot of flange and tits aplenty as the pages were magically turned by the wind as I approached. All very surreal. 

I reached home before noon and carried on with my day. 

The iphone SE Third Generation 2022

As avid readers will know, my old iphone XS passed away the week before last, leaving me phoneless. It was great not having a phone, but now I've bought another one, the iphone SE Third Generation 2022, it's red (which means that Apple is giving a percentage of the sale to charity). It goes without saying that I've been faffing around getting the phone working, which it now is, but the key thing is that having a week without a phone has made me think about my future phone usage. I'm going to try not to look at it so often. In fact, I've set up the 'do not disturb' function so that only key people can reach me after 1730hrs during the week. At weekends the phone is totally out of bounds for most people. All I need to do is buy a case for it as the last thing I want is to damage the screen and have to buy another phone. I was going to buy the phone online, but decided to visit the Apple store in Bromley where I found myself down with the all trendy kids.

My new iphone SE Third Generation 2022, it's red!!!