May Bank Holiday – Monday ramblings...

It's Bank Holiday Monday, a day normally characterised by bad weather, but not this morning. The whole weekend has been brilliant so far and, as usual, it's coming to an end miles too quickly for my liking.

I spent most of yesterday in the back garden, mowing the lawn and then cutting back the edges, which I'd allowed to get a little overgrown – a bit like the top of the garden where I need to cut down the long grass and get rid of the branches and twigs that are lying around. The day involved basking in the sunshine, drinking tea and then, after dinner, settling down to the new Top Gear, the long-awaited continuation of the programme not so long ago vacated by the great Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May, who, sadly, have moved on to Amazon Prime.

Le Blanc, Evans and the Stig – the jury's out...

Well, they say that nobody is indispensable and they're right, but there are times when the task ahead for the person challenged to carry something successful on to greater heights is a little tricky. Chris Evans has found himself in that position and yesterday was judgement day.

When the programme started it was, in my opinion, a little shaky, with Evans and Le Blanc delivering phrases immortalised by Clarkson, but without the great man's gravitas and panache. I felt that they should have moved away from the old format, but they'd stuck with The Stig and they'd kept the 'some say...' jokes, which I thought was a mistake as they're so closely associated with Clarkson. They kept the Star in a Reasonably Priced Car too, which is when I thought the programme picked up a bit, Evans being good at the celebrity interview, and then I realised that the real star of the show was Matt Le Blanc. He will, I'd imagine, carry the show forward and I feel confident that future shows, as we go through the series, will improve.

I think the best way to describe the first of the new Top Gear shows is by way of an analogy with the movie Liar Liar, starring Jim Carrey. I felt that keeping the show's Clarkson format was a mistake and that the 'some say' jokes about the Stig, told by somebody other than Clarkson, was uncomfortable to watch in the same way that, in Liar Liar, when Carrey's screen wife's new boyfriend tries to do 'the claw' for the little boy, it's just cringeworthy.

I felt that the challenges – something Clarkson and Co did so well – need to be vastly improved as they too lacked a certain gravitas. We need some good 'car versus other modes of transport' stuff and I felt that travelling to Blackpool in a couple of Reliant Robins didn't really cut the mustard. That said, it was watchable and I hope it will continue to improve. Evans is good, I've always liked him, but I admit I was a little sceptical about him filling Clarkson's shoes. Perhaps that's an impossible task, who knows, but he's doing a reasonable job as it's not an envious task.

It's all to do with chemistry at the end of the day and, let's face it, Clarkson, Hammond and May had that chemistry. Whether it exists between Evans and Le Blanc is up for debate, but I'm glad Top Gear's back and let's hope they pull it out of the hat. I get a strange feeling that they will.

To Westerham in the wind and rain...

Up with the lark and ready to ride. I listened to the news on radio four and then jumped out of bed and made my way to the kitchen where the kettle was filled with water and switched on; toast was placed in the toaster and milk in the saucepan – for the Shredded Wheat.

But there was rain. Well, drizzle, like a fine spray, but it didn't matter because it was warm outside. Waterproof clothing. Hmmm...you know when somebody refers to something as 'bombproof'? Never believe them. Because anything with the word 'proof' after it is some kind of lie. I'm sure that anything described as 'bomb proof' would be blown to smithereens if somebody actually attached (and ignited) a bomb on it.

In a slightly different vein, 'stay press' anything invariably isn't; Anchor spreadable? Not always and if something is billed as waterproof – expect a soaking.

We sent this shot to Phil

I rode towards Church Way, in full waterproofs, in the wind and rain, and within a few minutes of leaving the house I was shiny. I felt and looked like the skipper of a North Sea trawler – somebody more than capable of pulling up a chair at the Skipper's Table – and, as I made slow progress up Church Way, the wind seemingly blowing me back down the street, I got wetter and wetter. The only reason I wasn't too bothered was because it was mild, not cold, and the truth of the matter was quite simple to understand: while I was certainly getting wet, the best word – or phrase – to describe it was probably 'a little damp'. Later, when I reached home (at 1010hrs) and peeled off the waterproofs, I had damp trousers underneath, but they weren't wet. Well, alright, they were wet, but I wasn't soaked through is what I'm saying.

Andy was waiting for me at the Green and when he mentioned Westerham – following on from a Facebook comment by yours truly pointing to the fact that I'd been eating too many cakes and biscuits during the week – I admit that I was astonished. Westerham? The northern Kent market town? I couldn't remember the last time we rode there. Andy reckoned it was about a year ago and I've yet to check the exact date. He's probably right.

We decided to get our heads down and ride along the 269, past Botley Hill, past the Tatsfield Bus Stop and down the hill into Westerham. The wind and rain continued, but it wasn't too bad. The rain was still little more than a fine drizzle and the worst thing was the wind. Eventually the rain eased off. We passed a jogger who was travelling in the opposite direction. "At least I'm going this way," she remarked cheerily, alluding to the fact that she had a tailwind while we had to endure a full-on headwind. "We'll have a headwind coming back too," said Andy cynically as we pushed on.

Some people really are slovenly. What idiot, I wondered, had spilt brightly-coloured Dulux paint not only at intervals along the 269, but also further along Clarks Lane as we made our descent into Westerham. How long that paint will be splattered on the 269's cycle lane and Clarks Lane is anybody's guess, but it looks a right mess and it ruins the look of the countryside.

Westerham hadn't changed a bit. The Costa Coffee had its windows boarded up and was closed after the accident over Christmas. Avid readers might recall that a car careened out of control off of the road and through a window of the coffee retail outlet, injuring many and killing an old lady of 70 years old. We noticed a few bunches of flowers left outside as we made our way past, heading in the direction of Churchill's statue on the green.

Everything was wet and there was nowhere to sit down so we stood there, drinking tea and munching Belvita biscuits. And yes, you did hear correctly, I've signed up to Facebook under my real name – Matthew Moggridge – where I've also set up a NoVisibleLycra page. But why I bothered I'll never know. Social media, as I've said many times before, is a complete and utter waste of time. I've been on Linkedin since 2009 and since then I've had ONE job interview (not that I'm looking). As for this blog, it's purely for my own pleasure (I love writing and I've enjoying writing everything I've written on these pages). Once I decided to 'monetise' the blog and guess what? A few ads appeared, but I never made a single penny. And now, for some ridiculous reason, I've signed up to Facebook.

Andy and Matt on Westerham Green, 6 February 2016

We chatted about Top Gear. We both feel that Chris Evans won't pull it off – or rather he'll pull it off, in his own way, but he won't be able to recreate the magic of Messrs. Clarkson, May and Hammond. His biggest mistake would be trying to recreate what Clarkson and Co. created. And what the hell is Matt Le Blanc doing on the show? The strange thing about him is the fact that he's nothing like Joey from Friends. Now I know that's kind of obvious – he was, after all, acting – but I think people expect him to be Joey and he's not, he's quieter and considerably more reserved. Andy says they have an old 'stig' on the show too. Well, again, an 'old' Stig – a leftover from the glory days of Clarkson, May and Hammond. I'd love it to work for Chris Evans, I really would, but I'm still suffering withdrawal symptoms over Clarkson's departure.

The rain eased off early on in the ride and for most of the outward journey it was just wet tarmac and roadside puddles – not good if you don't have mudguards, but at least I had the waterproofs.

Reluctantly we mounted the bikes and rode out of Westerham. It's a long haul from the town to the bottom of the hill, but the hill itself isn't too bad. The problem is that it continues, naggingly, all the way to Botley Hill and beyond before we're able to settle in to a smooth ride along the 269 to Warlingham Green.

When I was a kid I remember pretending my bike was a train and that I was the driver. I made up mythical stations and pretended that kerbsides were platforms. The stations were named after some characteristic of the road, so if there was a plum tree the station was called Plumbury. Now, as I prepared to race past the Tatsfield Bus Stop without stopping I found myself imagining once again that I was driving a train, the non-stop Westerham to Sanderstead train that went through a station called Tatsfield Bus Stop. Silly, I know, but there you have it.

It's quite odd imagining things to be something they're not. I do it all the time. Going back to when I worked for a different publishing company, I remember, on my walks home during the dark, winter months, pretending that a pub fairly close to home was really an old haunted galleon and that I was in a rowing boat, alone, on calm black seas, when the old ship emerged from the fog and I continued on my journey, rowing alongside the eery, creaking, wooden hull, a bell ringing mysteriously on board, getting quieter as I rowed away from the mysterious vessel.

Andy and I parted company on the green and I reached home at 1010hrs. Here's hoping we both feel suitably inclined tomorrow morning to repeat today's performance.

Chilling at the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

I took last Tuesday off and the weather wasn't appalling, but it wasn't very pleasant either. It was dull and blowy and not really conducive to sitting in the garden and chilling. Then, once back at work, the good weather was back. In fact, it remained good all week with Friday (yesterday) being the hottest day of the year so far – according to the TV weather forecasts. Needless to say I think we, that is Andy and myself, expected the good weather to continue for the weekend, but no, sod's law dictates otherwise, it always does, and this morning, when I woke up prematurely around 0400hrs, I peered out of the window and noted a dull, dark and dreary world, the grass wet from overnight rain. It was early, I said to myself, what could I expect? It was four in the morning. But the dullness lingered and was still there at 0700hrs when I left the house and opened the garage. There was no sign of Phil, but I knew that Andy would be waiting at the green and I was running late.

My bike at the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Saturday 13 June 2015

As I cycled wearily up Ellenbridge Road I noticed the odd spit of rain, but it never went any further than that. Instead it remained dull and dark and just like an October morning rather than June. The fact that I'd been awake since four o'clock made cycling and, dare I say it, life in general, seem a little depressing. As I rode through the churchyard I found myself sighing with despair.

We had planned to ride to Westerham and Andy, perhaps a little ambitiously, had sent a text earlier suggesting we simply ride there and back, stopping at the Botley to catch the 'Botley on the Road' catering truck that we had been promised would be waiting for us. It seemed like an unnecessarily harsh ride: all that way to Westerham and then, without so much as a cup of tea, a ride back up the hill without rest until we reached Botley Hill. I suggested by text that having tea at Westerham would be miles better than waiting for the van and he agreed. But with the dull weather and the threat of rain looming large, we decided to head for the Tatsfield Bus Stop instead.

A mist rolled in from the West as we rode past the  Botley Hill Farmhouse, noting the absence of the aforementioned catering van, and when we reached the bus stop we drank tea and ate chocolate chip BelVita biscuits.

"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"We could break into the art world."
"How?"
"Well, some works of modern art are little more than squares of colour on canvas. We could do that."
"Yeah, it's all about the bullshit, that's how we'd sell them."
"Technically, though, it would be easy: get a few brightly-coloured oil paints, get the canvas and then off we go! In fact, even better, place a bicycle wheel on the canvas, spin the wheel and then throw on the paint. It would create a kind of Catherine wheel effect..."
"Yeah, and then if we come up with something pretentious to say about it..."
"...and a pretentious name for the work..."
"Like 'Cog'."
"...we'd be quids in."
"How would you convince the art world to visit the gallery?"
"More importantly, how would we be able to afford the gallery in the first place?"
"Perhaps we'd just persuade an existing gallery to exhibit the work."
"It takes years. There are waiting lists apparently."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Well, we'd have to bullshit them. One of us would be the 'artist', the other the artist's agent and we'd have to develop some kind of pretentious clap trap about the work..."
"Sounds a bit like our plan to open a cycle caff in Westerham."
"You mean doomed to failure?"
"Yep."
"Actually, it wouldn't be a con, would it? I mean the 'art' would be real in a sense so we wouldn't be faking anything."
"Did you watch Chris Evans last night?"
"No."
"He did a one-off TGI Friday and, if I'm honest, it was a bit lame, a bit embarassing almost and a bit dated. Roger Daltry singing My Generation with Liam Gallagher."
"There's a certain irony about Roger Daltry singing 'hope I die before I get old'."
"Yeah, he's seventy years old – or thereabouts."
"I don't know why people don't just accept that they've had their day, made their money and that's it."
"But listening to the original recordings is alright, it's just that I don't want to hear them attempting it in their old age."
"Yeah, you're right."
"But with TGI there's something wrong about, I don't know, recreating the past. I mean was it THAT good in the first place? I don't think so. In fact I reckon that whole 'anarchic TV' thing that started with TisWas is now a thing of the past. All that 'boozy' rowdiness and the stars of the time who epitomised it: Sean Ryder, Liam Gallagher..."
"I used to watch The Word when I came in after the pub."
"Yeah, me too. A class piece of television – produced by Paul Ross – but not for today's audience."
"No, you're right. For me, certain broadcasters – Clarkson, Chris Evans – they're good in their own right, they don't have to recreate their past successes."
"Wasn't Clarkson on TGI?"
"Yeah, but don't get me started on that subject, I'm still mourning the passing of Top Gear."

And with that we decided it was time to head home.