Easter Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday...

I've got an issue with the text app on this machine. I'm sitting here writing this and wondering what will happen to it, not the app, but the text I'm writing. Will it be lost forever or will it be easily found? The answer is I don't know. All I do know is that I've written stuff here before and then lost it, so it's anybody's guess.

It's Easter Sunday and I'm not cycling today purely because we're going out for lunch. What kind of a reason is that? Well, we're leaving around 1100hrs so if I'm out on the ride and I get a puncture, I'll have to walk home and if I walk it'll take ages and I'll end up missing lunch and ruining everybody's day. And if you're wondering why I would have to walk home, it's simple: I've run out of leeches and need to buy some more.

So, not going cycling you'd think I'd lie in, but no, I was up at 0600hrs as normal. There used to be a time when I could lie in bed all day, or certainly not get out before 1100hrs. Breakfast became lunch, slobbing around was the order of the day and the very idea of getting up early made me shudder.

Heading home from the churchyard...

Then, one day, things changed and I don't know how or why. Alright, one has to get up early during the week for work and, I suppose, that conditions us all into a routine of sorts and it means we're capable of getting up early, but rising at the crack of dawn when we don't need to? Yes, I do get up early for no reason; as soon as I open my eyes I'm ready to jump out of bed and do something. If I wake up ahead of my alarm clock (which I often do) then I try to stay put in bed, I try to get back to sleep and sometimes I succeed. Other times I lie there for about ten minutes and then I give up and go downstairs, make a cup of tea and and a slice of toast, say, or even go for it big time and make porridge, official confirmation that I'm up and raring to go.

Normally, once I'm up I switch on my lap top and faff around, checking the BBC website first, then my emails and then I might glance at my blog, see how many readers I had the day before. Often a disappointing moment, I can tell you, although, sometimes, I'm pleasantly surprised.

Right now I guess I'm experimenting. It's not early, but I have been up since the crack of dawn, 0600hrs to be precise, although I was up earlier,or rather awake earlier, lying there, getting fidgety, thinking about getting up. Eventually the alarm, actually no, the alarm didn't go off because it wasn't in the room, it's normally in the room, on the ironing board, but not last night. I'd charged it downstairs in the conservatory and, sure enough, when I went downstairs and slid open the 'patio' door, the sound of birdsong rang out. It's like that thing about 'do bears shit in the woods?' Do alarms go off when they're not in the room and you can't hear them? The answer is yes, they do. I switched it off and got on with my day. First, breakfast. Porridge with fruit and a cup of tea, apple and cinnamon, new tea I found in the store yesterday. What is it with me and fruit or herbal teas? I love them. Beats the usual builder's tea.

Andy's Kona Blast at the churchyard

I put John Martyn's Solid Air on the sound system, arguably the most chilled out music around, ate breakfast and then messed around on the computer doing everything I mentioned earlier: the BBC website, email, my blog, you name it, and then, normally, I hit the road, but as I say I'm not going today because we're all heading into deepest Surrey, or is it Sussex, for a bite to eat, an Easter treat.

On the weather front, it's great for cycling; another amazing day with temperatures expected to be in the mid-twenties, probably hotter. I bet Andy's out there, he's probably taken a ride to Westerham or the lakes, places we both tend to visit only when we're alone, which is odd. I can't remember the last time I rode to the lakes, but I bet I was alone when I did it.

Actually, it turned out Andy didn't ride yesterday. He'd driven to Cornwall and back in a day on Saturday and felt very tired, so he stayed in,and probably started to wish he'd gone out, the weather being the way it was and, I hasten to add, still is.

The ride to Cornwall and back in a day seemed like a huge effort to me, a long haul. I would have been falling asleep at the wheel, but not Andy. He got there around 1pm and after doing what he had to do, headed home, arriving some time after 2100hrs. Americans think nothing of driving such distances and more, but in the UK it's a different story. I know if it had been me I'd have stayed over somewhere, that's how much of a wuss I am, but then Andy needed to be home.

He told me about his mammoth drive when I reached the green after cycling from home. It is now Bank Holiday Monday, or Easter Monday, and for a lot of people it marks the end of the holidays. Back to work on Tuesday for what amounts to a short week. I've got the rest of the week off. Take four days leave and get a total of 10, that was my thinking. I don't see my desk until Monday 29 April.

We rode the slow way to the churchyard, passing the aromatic oilseed rape fields on the way and occasionally glimpsing bluebells in wooded glades. As I probably mentioned in my last piece of writing on the subject, the churchyard is a wonderful place in the good weather. I could sit there all day with a newspaper and something to eat and drink. The same could be said for any field in the sunshine.

The Tatsfield churchyard

After drinking our tea we lingered awhile, savouring the moment, perhaps, but then accepted that we had to ride home to live out the rest of our day. Andy had shopping to do, but my chores had been done on Saturday so I was in the clear.

You find me now sitting in the garden at just before 1700hrs, it's still warm enough to be relaxing alfresco in a tee-shirt, there's a warm breeze, the sound of a distant light aircraft and, of course, the tweeting birds. I have an apple and cinnamon tea on the go and behind me to my left the wind chime plays its chilled out tune. I'm looking at a bed of tulips to my left, a lawn directly in front of me and a flowerbed on my right full of what I call The Devil's Forget-Me-Not. It's a weed and it covers my garden at this time of year and later becomes unsightly green leaves secured by a huge root. I've tried digging them up, but they always return so I've surrendered to the futility of gardening.

To the Tatsfield bus stop – the fast way...

"Something ought to be done about the drug companies. They hold the world to ransom. It's a prime example of what is wrong with capitalism. If anything needs to be brought under government control it's got to be the drug companies – and transportation, the railways. We're all being ripped off," I said as we rode along the 269. It was cold. Four degrees. And cloudy too, but there was no sign of any rain. My phone promised cloud all day, but little chance of a soaking.

I simply couldn't face riding the slow way. "I'd prefer the hill coming out of Westerham to Beddlestead Lane," I said as we reached the first incline. It was a struggle this morning, coming up Church Way, so the thought of that long, steady climb filled me with dread, just the thought of it.

"Do you reckon it's a mile from Botley to the bus stop?"
"Could be, not sure," said Andy.
"It's three miles from the green," I said.

Easter Sunday and not that many cars on the road. But I still opted for the off-road path towards the end of the 269 as it makes conversation easier. I say 'the end of the 269' but what I mean is the end of our bit of the road. The 269 starts down by old Red Deer pub and ends somewhere in Edenbridge. Once day I'd like to ride the entire length of it, but not today; it's too cold and there's plenty of Easter stuff going on.

There was talk of mission statements and business plans when we reached the bus stop. I said no to biscuits, mainly because I've been overdoing it: chocolate, slices of bread, the odd biscuit, well, make that a good half a dozen biscuits, daily, over the past week. A chocolate HobNob, a ginger nut or two and then some M&S white chocolate cookies (smaller than I expected them to be). I was content to drink tea and then fling my tea bag on to the grass in front of me. Andy did the same and while he normally wins, I think my tea bags had the edge today.

The road sign has disappeared. It used to have the words 'Approach Road' written on it, but now it's gone. About a week ago I drove past the bus stop and noticed the sign had been uprooted but was still in place – vertically. Now it had been taken away.

There were some big potholes in the road on the return journey, but swerving late to avoid them was not a good idea. "There's a big one coming up," I said, and sure enough there it was and we both managed to avoid it without drifting into the middle of the road.

It was cold. The temperature was roughly four degrees Centigrade throughout the duration of the ride and it never rose above six degrees during the rest of the day. Or so it seemed.

Me, in the snow, Botley Hill, April 2008...

On Good Friday we rode 22 miles and on Easter Sunday we managed around 16, that's assuming that there is a mile between Botley Hill and the bus stop. A total so far of 38 miles. Not too bad considering we've had three weeks out of the saddle through bad weather.

There are news reports suggesting overnight snow, which could mean no cycling tomorrow, but I simply don't believe it. It's a bit nippy, yes, especially this morning, but I don't envisage there being any snow. Not that there hasn't been snow in April. And you all know that I'm going to bring up 2008 when Andy and I were caught out in it, close to Botley Hill. At first we thought it was fun and made our way towards the bus stop in awe of the increasingly white-out conditions, but by the time we had to head home our giggles turned to grimaces, our faces froze and, well, we were so glad to reach our respective homes. Hopefully we'll get a ride, but I suspect that if the snow don't get us, the rain will.

"You make that sound rather shitty, Lewis."

Nothing much was said. Normally somebody mentions it, but if they did I didn't hear anything. A family member might bring it up, but again, not a dickie bird, and no, I'm not talking about the cricket bloke either. In fact, I'm sure the expression 'not a dickie bird', has nothing to do with him.

This morning I found myself awake in the dead of night, but it turns out not as dead as I thought. I suddenly remembered and asked myself, "Have the clocks gone forward?" There was only one way to find out. I looked at the digital radio alarm clock. It was almost 0450hrs. I'd been awake almost an hour. There was a programme about somebody whose name I can't remember, but the former mayor of Toronto, who died last week, was mentioned and the guy in question recently got married – to another man and banned what Americans call cellphones from the wedding. Having not listened to the whole programme, I haven't the faintest idea what it was about, although I know one thing: the guy that was getting married hates secrecy and when the reporter asked another guy why that might be, the other guy asked if he could go off record – but still didn't answer the question.

Clear skies? No, just driving rain...

The Six O'Clock News soon followed – the clocks had gone forward – and a story about planned cuts to the UK Border Agency was the lead. Why, I wondered, would anybody want to make cuts of 6% to the UK Border Agency, I found myself thinking, when we've got the so-called 'jungle' on the other side of the Channel and terrorist bombs going off in Brussels. Labour's Andy Burnham feels the same way. Perhaps we can expect another U-turn by the government. The rest of the news was given over to the various Easter messages we can expect from the Vatican, the Church of England and, of course, the Prime Minister.

Something Understood, the programme that always follows the news on Sunday morning, was all about renewal, but, as always, I have to get up so I rarely listen to it; and yet it's quite a relaxing, Sunday morning, half asleep sort of programme with strangely mesmerising music. It's the same week in and week out and one of these days I'll just lie there and listen to it.

So the clocks had gone forward and, of course, technology had already proved itself to be one step ahead of everybody. My iphone, for instance, changes time automatically. Had I set the alarm on the phone I would have woken up in time (had I not been awake already) but I hadn't set it so today might well have been a disaster. Fortunately, it wasn't a disaster, but ultimately it all proves to be a little 'academic'.

I moseyed on downstairs, made tea, toast and Weetabix with blueberries and then remembered there was no milk. Yesterday in Waitrose they didn't have the big two-litre plastic bottles, unless I fancied buying the extortionate Duchy of Cornwall brand – and to be honest, I didn't. One thing I really hate is when there is no alternative other than buying the expensive alternative of something. I'm always suspicious of garages when they place locks on the low cost petrol under the possible pretence that it's out of stock. Rather than fill my car with the 'supreme' petrol, I prefer to find another gas station that might not be ripping me off. That, of course, is the problem. It's hard to know when you're being ripped off these days. "It's the actuator, mate," a mechanic told me recently. "£210." Really? But not being an expert at car mechanics, I had no option other than to accept and pay up. At least now I don't have to struggle into the driver's seat via the passenger door – that was a pain, I can tell you.

There was just enough milk for one strong cup of tea and an almost dry cereal and now, with the time approaching 0700hrs, I could do with another cuppa, but if I want one I've got to go out in the rain to the corner shop, only to find, no doubt, that it's closed today. Today is Easter Sunday, a kind of Super Sunday – Sunday Extra, perhaps, when, everything reverts back to the olden days when nothing opened on the Sabbath. Not that those days were bad. It was kind of accepted that everything was shut and in a way it made for an interesting day. The pubs would open at noon and shut at 2pm and not re-open until 7pm, only a newsagent would be open, but only until lunch time and it would only sell newspapers and sweets, not food. It was a time for lolling around or walking aimlessly through parks and fields, or simply going round to somebody's house or punctuating the day with a trip to the pub, but having the rest of the day wandering about and, strangely, being of no fixed abode.

Andy and I have been liaising this morning on Facebook. "Has it stopped raining at your place?" he asked me earlier. I got up and peered outside. "It's raining now. Abort?" We decided to leave it until 0730hrs before making our decision. I haven't even checked if Phil is standing on the front drive, although I doubt it. He was up for a ride on Saturday, but I couldn't make it. The best day was Good Friday – beautiful sunshine and clear skies – but I couldn't make that either due to 'driving' responsibilities. If we don't ride today that leaves just Bank Holiday Monday and the weather is promising 'more of the same'. In fact, the promise is Hurricane Katy, possibly 'Storm' Katy, although it's widely believed to be heading off north early on Monday morning.

This weekend could be a complete wash-out as far as riding is concerned. If it does stop raining it's going to be wet, which in turn means a wet arse for yours truly – unless I can find my waterproofs. And before you ask, I've not yet serviced the bike or bought mudguards. I simply don't have the spare cash. It's the same old story, I'm afraid.

Hold on, though! The skies are getter bluer, the birdbath is calm, Andy's suggested meeting at 0800hrs. Yes, I've replied, but first let me get some milk from the local shop...if it's open! It's taken two days, but at last it looks like we're game on for a ride. Better find those waterproofs!

Or perhaps not. Just as I was preparing to head out to the local shops the heavens opened. Abort!

Later...

It's now 1014hrs and it's been raining on and off all morning. One minute there are blue skies, or bluish skies, the next it's cloudy. As I write this there are grey skies with an occasional appearance from the sun and then some rain. As Jon Voight said in Deliverance, "You make that sound rather shitty, Lewis." 

And below (courtesy of WikiQuote) is a slice of dialogue from the movie Deliverance:

Lewis: Machines are gonna fail and the system's gonna fail...then, survival. Who has the ability to survive? That's the game - survive.

Ed: Well, the system's done all right by me.

Lewis: Oh yeah. You gotta nice job, you gotta a nice house, a nice wife, a nice kid.

Ed: You make that sound rather shitty, Lewis.

Lewis: Why do you go on these trips with me, Ed?

Ed: I like my life, Lewis.

Lewis: Yeah, but why do you go on these trips with me?

Ed: You know, sometimes I wonder about that.