Bank Holiday Weekend – the Tatsfield Bus Stop and then the Village

Saturday was a little on the cool side when I left the house around 0700hrs. The skies were a greyish colour, but there were blue skies poking through as I pedalled along Ellenbridge Road en route to Warlingham Green to meet Andy. While we'd talked about riding to Bletchingley, we went instead to the Tatsfield bus stop where we met and chatted with Dawes Galaxy. No photographs were taken.

The Old Ship, Tatsfield, has been given a coat of paint and some galleons

On Sunday there was plenty of evidence that it had rained heavily during the night – there were puddles and a general gloom in the air and signs of rain and dampness everywhere. I texted Andy to say it might be best sticking to a conventional route rather than branching out and being caught in the rain. We opted for Tatsfield village and rode leisurely along the 269 towards Botley Hill seeing nothing of yesterday morning's propellor-powered hang gliders.

The Tatsfield village noticeboard – complete with colourful floral display

We're almost into September and it's getting towards the time of year when our destination is determined by whether or not the seats will be damp when we arrive. Normally this means we spend a lot of time at the Tatsfield bus stop as it provides shelter from the rain and invariably offers a dry bench on which to sit. Going anywhere else would mean standing up to drink our tea and we can't have that, can we? In fact, with the exception of the bus stop and Tatsfield village, there's very little in the way of shelter at any of our destinations.

Yesterday, as we approached 'our' bus stop on the Approach Road, we spied a Lycra monkey relaxing on our bench. He was waiting for his associates to fix a puncture further back along the road and then he (and them) would be heading for Edenbridge to tackle a few punishing hills, he said. We told him about White Lane across the way from where we were standing and explained how, once a year, there was some kind of time trail. We had attempted the climb and I remember having to dismount half way up, but Andy made it all the way; it's about maintaining momentum and keeping the front wheel on the ground.

Gimme shelter – but not today

The rain held off and we soon found ourselves in Tatsfield village where we noticed that the Old Ship pub had been painted and a couple of galleons had been left on the window sills facing the small green. We decided to sit on the circular wooden table outside the pub rather than use the bus stop – the seats were dry – and soon we spied Dawes Galaxy (odd to see him twice in one weekend). He joined us for a chinwag and told us that, apparently, Tatsfield was the most isolated village inside the M25 – a hefty claim, we thought, but it could be right as there's not much in either direction once you're outside of the village. It's about two to three miles to Westerham in one direction and around three to four miles to Warlingham and there's not much in between. In the other direction there's Biggin Hill, but in between there is nothing but rural lanes – or so says Dawes Galaxy. In fact there's nothing but twisty lanes in the direction of Addington either so, all told, Tatsfield is fairly isolated. As Andy pointed out as we rode towards Botley Hill, it's about 25 to 30 minutes by bike to Warlingham Green and no more than 10 to 15 minutes (downhill) into Westerham.

This Tatsfield restaurant offers a Sunday roast at £25.95 per person

There's an expensive restaurant in Tatsfield (isolated or not the residents won't starve – or perhaps they will when you consider the extortionate prices being charged). I went over and checked out the menu: £25.95 per person for a Sunday roast, meaning that with wine it's probably closer to £30 or more – not my cup of tea, especially when I could pay a visit to my local Waitrose, buy a decent joint of beef and a fine bottle of wine (or two) and feed a few friends for about £30.

One of two model galleons at the Old Ship, Tatsfield

Last night Andy watched Red Bull Rampage, a downhill cycling event characterised by very narrow tracks and almost vertical drops. Apparently those who take part often brag about their injuries – broken backs, bruised livers, damaged spleens, you name it. We wondered what the contestants would make of a leisurely jaunt with NVL to the Tatsfield bus stop. I imagined the scene: Andy and I plus some bleached blond American 'youth' wondering when there would be some 'action'.

"Would you care for a cup of tea, young man?"
"Tea? Haven't you got an energy drink?"
"You're not going to need one. Biscuit?"

We took a few snaps of the pub and the bikes and the galleon in the window and after finishing our tea and biscuits headed out of the village along the Approach Road and then west towards Botley Hill. Andy and I parted company halfway along the 269 and I rode on towards Warlingham Green and further north towards Sanderstead and home.

Our bikes outside the Old Ship, Tatsfield, Kent. Pic: Andy Smith.

It's almost noon but still no rain, but it's been predicted so we're expecting a downpour any second. Time to tidy myself up and see what the rest of the day has in store.

Solo ride to the Tatsfield bus stop

With Andy taking part in Ride London – he cycled a total of 122 miles – I was left to my own devices on Sunday and was considering an early morning ride to mum's. But then I thought the Tatsfield bus stop would be a better bet, although I didn't take any tea with me, which always makes it a little depressing.

The Tatsfield bus stop

The ride was fine – and so was the weather, although not as good as Saturday when I didn't go out, although I did drive over to mum's, hence my reason for not riding there on Sunday morning.

Andy's Ride London route

Dawes Galaxy turned up and got off his bike. We sat and discussed nothing in particular and then, after saying our goodbyes, I took the shot accompanying this post and then headed for home.

To the Tatsfield bus stop... for a sausage sandwich!

It was going to be Westerham, but we all had commitments. It was, however, a special day. Phil was christening his 'new' Kona Smoke. I'm not sure how much I've said in past posts, but in a nutshell, Phil's old bike – formerly his father's Raleigh – was getting a little too old. Phil has been considering a new bike for some time, but he wasn't in any hurry.

I had a brainwave. Why doesn't he buy Dave's old Kona Smoke? Here was a perfectly decent, hardly ever used bike that was slowly rotting away in a garage in Caterham in Surrey. The last time it was on the road was in pre-blog times (pre-2009) when Dave joined Andy and I on a ride to Westerham. Sadly, there is no photographic evidence.

Saturday 11 July
Let's face it, Dave isn't really the sporty type. So I sent him a text. "Ever thought about selling your bike?" He came back with a "Why not?" I'd already asked Phil whether he'd be interested in buying Dave's bike and he said he'd happily take a look at it. A few weeks passed and then we drove over to Dave's to check out the Smoke. Phil liked it, but admitted that he needed to raise the handlebars.

A deal was done, Phil rode it back from Caterham and this weekend was the first time Phil was riding the bike with Andy and I. We rode to the Tatsfield bus stop where Phil unveiled his famous sausage sandwiches and Andy produced some chocolate chip BelVita biscuits. I served the tea and we sat around chatting in the early morning sunshine.

Phil with his Kona Smoke (left) and Andy at the bus stop

Dawes Galaxy turned up, looking unnaturally sweaty. He stopped to chew the fat and, as Phil has already observed, he didn't get off of his bike but simply stood there in front of the bus stop straddling the frame of his immaculate-looking machine. He'd already riden to the Tatsfield churchyard to see if we were there, but we told him how our family commitments prevented us from going any further than the bus stop.

We might have made the churchyard had Phil's Kona Smoke not fallen victim to a front wheel puncture only yards from our start point. We stopped on a pleasant green joining Morley Road, Arkwright Road, Church Way and Ewhurst Avenue and I called Andy to say we were delayed. But it didn't take long to get back on the road again and soon we were riding along the 269 heading south towards Botley Hill and then veering east and riding around half a mile to the bus stop.

After chewing the fat with Dawes Galaxy, who this week mentioned his diabetic brother with only two toes who lived in Cornwall, we all bade farewell to one another and rode home. Andy branched off at the Ridge while Phil and I rode back towards Sanderstead. We parted at the top of Church Way and we won't be seeing Phil for a while as he's off on his summer holidays.

I'll need to motivate myself for next weekend as Andy and Phil won't be present next Saturday.

Sunday 12th July
It was raining this morning so I didn't go out, but in all honesty it wasn't so much raining but spitting. Had I been a little more dedicated to the cause perhaps I'd have gone out early and returned before the heavens opened, but I didn't; I lolled around making plans – or thinking about – a drive to the south coast. The weather was poor; it was dribbling with rain, it was cold, breezy and overcast and there's nothing bleaker than a seaside resort in bad weather – misty, deserted Pagham beach was suitably uninspiring and an equally deserted and miserable promenade at Felpham left me feeling down and meant that a walk was out of the question. After a cup of tea in the Lobster Pot, we drove home.

The Wimbledon men's final was still on when we returned and now it's dark outside, Joanna Lumley is on the Trans-Siberia Express and I'm in the conservatory writing this post, but not for long. It's just turned 10pm and it's time to call it a day.

Are churchyards the ultimate place to set up camp?

We met at the usual place at the usual time and headed off in the direction of Botley Hill, but with every intention of reaching the Tatsfield Bus Stop. When we got there we broke out the tea and biscuits and had a chinwag, as always, and this time it was about Chris Evans taking over on Top Gear. Neither of us are sure he can pull it off, but only time will tell. I'm still enjoying the repeats on BBC 3, which I'm guessing will stop as soon as the Evans version of the show starts (they won't want viewers comparing and contrasting).

Then Dawes Galaxy turned up. We don't know his real name. Dawes Galaxy is the name of his bike. We see him sporadically, but he's been convalescing – now there's a word – from an operation to remedy an enlarged prostate. He told us all the gory details. It's good to see him, though, and we're both glad that all is well as he's 'no spring chicken'. For a short while after he left we debated how old he might be and decided he was definitely in his seventies.

Phil made an interesting observation about Dawes Galaxy: he never gets off his bike. Whenever he turns up at the bus stop he stays on it, standing up and straddling the frame, but he won't park up, dismount and sit on the bench. I guess it takes all sorts.

They say you learn something new everyday and this week we learned that a churchyard is a good place to camp. Dawes Galaxy said he received a telephone call from a cycling pal who was travelling around the country on a bike and camping in churchyards. Churchyards? Well, apparently, they're good places to camp as they invariably have water on tap, literally, as people need running water to tend to their flowers. So, if you see a load of tents in your local churchyard you now know why.

Dawes Galaxy heads home, Sunday 21 June 2015

So-called 'wild camping' – meaning camping in fields that aren't campsites – is now illegal in England but where churchyards fall in that respect, I don't know. Andy says at least you can count on the vicar not being too upset to see you.

I used to have a mate who rented a flat in my hometown but felt he had to leave the flat because a friend of his – who was also a friend of mine – died there under rather tragic circumstances (he overdosed on heroin). One day, as I was walking down the high street, I bumped into the guy. He was selling The Big Issue (a magazine sold by the homeless) and I questioned why he was selling it. "You're not homeless, Alex," I said and he told me about Keith. I told him I knew that Keith had died and then he said that he couldn't stay in the flat any longer because the whole thing had freaked him out. Fair point. Instead, however, he was staying in the local churchyard with a few other down and outs. Whether he was kipping in the graveyard because of the running water, I'll never know, but I guess one word of warning for those with a bike and a tent: you might not be alone in the graveyard – and it's not the dead you have to worry about.

For more on this subject, click here.

Tatsfield Bus Stop and 'that rural bit we once visited'...and we didn't get rained on

There was a strong chance of rain, said the television weather forecasters and a few people in the office, meaning that there was a strong likelihood the rides would be called off to avoid a soaking. Fortunately, the rains stayed away and both days were absolutely fine.

Not far away, but in the middle of nowhere – Phil, Matt and Andy.

Saturday we headed for the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Andy, Phil and yours truly. We went the fast way and then sat there drinking tea and munching cereal bars. Sunday and we were going to visit the old bus stop again, until I remembered a destination that doesn't really have a name because it's in the middle of nowhere, there are no benches, no covered bus stops, just grass and hills. In fact, it's not really in the middle of nowhere either, but you have to get off the 269, head down Ledgers Road and then turn right into Washpond Lane before turning left and then riding for about 20 yards until you reach a rough track that leads down to (ahem) nowhere in particular.

The off-road path is steeper than I remembered it and there are concrete speed humps that merge into the landscape and can be dangerous if you don't see them coming. We all headed down the path, brakes covered and watching out for the humps and when we finally made it, we rested our bikes against a wooden fence and climbed over to the pointless stile where, on two previous occasions, we had enjoyed our tea and cereal bars.

Today, however, it was some excellent sausage sandwiches, courtesy of Phil, who had been to our local butchers. They were pretty tasty and were washed down with three cups of tea each. If the truth be known we went a little over the top with the water. Phil brought a huge flask with him and I bought the usual flask plus one of those Thermos cups. I also brought six tea bags so to have three cups each we had to use the second bag twice.

Phil's and Matt's bikes on Warlingham Green, Sunday 3rd November 2013.

While we were standing there admiring the view and drinking tea, a group of riders came down the footpath and carried on along a track that led to a steep climb some 300 yards away. We watched them to see if they would make it up, but knowing darn well that they wouldn't make it. Sure enough they didn't make it and then Andy figured he could do better and sped off down the track. He made three attempts, but did no better and admitted the path was too steep and too slippery.

We walked halfway up the footpath and then mounted our bikes and headed back along Beddlestead Lane and then turned right into Washpond Lane, left into Ledgers Road and then right on the 269 heading towards Warlingham Green where we parted company with Andy. We reached home just before 10am.

The weather this weekend was excellent. This morning (Sunday) there were blue skies, bluer than yesterday, but now, at 2120hrs,  it's raining, heavily, just as promised, albeit around 12 hours later than scheduled.

I went out in shorts and no gloves this morning, it was that warm, and yesterday the gloves were off too, although Saturday was a wetter ride thanks to overnight rain, which had left puddles in the road. The only reason I was wearing shorts today was because the track suit bottoms were soaked through due to the puddles.

Something else worth mentioning is our old pal, known by Andy and I as 'Dawes Galaxy'. That's the name of his bike, we don't know his name, but he joined us for a brief chat yesterday (Saturday).

This morning Andy was late due to a puncture and he got another one after he left us at Warlingham Green, he informed me in a text. My bike seemed fine and I couldn't hear the knocking caused by the bottom bracket for some reason, although I'm sure it'll return again soon.

Waiting for Andy on Warlingham Green, Sunday 3rd November 2013.

We met one of the gung-ho cyclists this morning, just Phil and I as Andy was fixing his rear wheel puncture. We don't know the guy's name, but he's alright and was showing off his new Yeti mountain bike. He'd bought the frame on Ebay and then built the bike himself. Not bad at all. In fact, it put my Kona to shame. The Yeti was lightweight and had 27 gears. The gung-ho cyclist was waiting for his pal to turn up, but it looked as if he wasn't going to show so the GHC went off alone and we continued to wait for Andy who came along shortly afterwards.

All things considered it was a good ride on both days. Alright, a wet arse on Saturday for yours truly (for having no mudguards) but a dry and refreshingly blustery day this morning – perfect for riding.