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.

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.