As the year draws to a close...

When I looked out on Sunday (last week) there was a persistent rain and it didn't look as if it was going to stop. In days gone by, an abort text would have been sent, but because our mindset on cycling has changed, it was still 100% game on. The plan was to go to Westerham, but we couldn't remember whether the Costa Coffee was open. There was only one way to find out: ride there and see for ourselves. Andy texted the plan: whoever gets there first, checks out the Costa and then, if it's closed, sets up shop in the small memorial gardens next to the Co-op. Well, I knew it wouldn't be me that got there first. For a start, I was faffing around doing something I haven't done for some time: making a flask of hot water, finding some teabags and some milk and basically preparing like I used to for a pre-pandemic ride. To be honest, I was hoping that I wouldn't be using the flask. I was looking forward to my large English breakfast tea, and being as it was Boxing Day, I was already considering a cake of some description. But then I remembered Sheree's Tea Rooms in Tatsfield Village. I knew it was open on Boxing day so all I had to do was text Andy and ask him to meet me there. But it wasn't that easy. Andy had already left his house and, like me, would not be looking at his phone until he reached his destination.

Seasonal decorations on the Nobbler...

After all the faffing about, I was finally out of the house and on the bike around 0815hrs, so that's a quarter hour behind my originally scheduled arrival time. It normally takes me around one hour door-to-door so now I'd be getting there around 0915.

The rain continued, but I was wearing my parka, hood up over my crash helmet, and it was good. So good that I didn't really notice the rain. I was, however, wearing a pair of green cords over my cycling shorts and sooner or later the rain would soak through. In fairness, it was a slow process. I stopped and took shelter momentarily when I reached Sanderstead Waitrose, a chance to see if Andy had responded to my earlier text about Tatsfield. He hadn't. Then I set off for Westerham, heading initially for Warlingham Green and then, of course, the 269 to Botley Hill and beyond. Halfway along the route Andy sent a text. He'd reached Westerham. I told him I'd get there by around 0930hrs and he said he'd be there, which was good. I had thought about going to Tatsfield village and a cup of tea and a Millionaire's Shortbread at Sheree's, but once I knew that Costa was open and that Andy would be there when I arrived, I 'put my feet down' and continued on my way to the Northern Kent market town of Westerham. The rain slowed a little and as I powered down Clarks Lane had almost stopped.

I felt good because I hadn't aborted the ride and, as with most things, riding in the rain isn't as bad as it seems. It was fine, although my trousers were getting damper and damper, but it was nothing a bit of warmth couldn't cure. Andy was already sitting at a table enjoying his coffee when I bowled through the door. We were two of around six people in the shop and that felt good. I wasn't THAT wet either, only my legs were experiencing a mild dampness and that slowly disappeared as I warmed up. There was no queue either so I ordered a large English Breakfast tea and a Bakewell tart and joined Andy at his table. We talked about a variety of topics: decent rear lights, cheap bikes, giving up cars altogether, living a more minimalist life and the commercialism of Christmas. 

Nativity scene in Arundel Avenue

Andy left around 1022hrs I and continued to slob around for another 10 minutes before heading for home. The rain had all but stopped and I followed the road towards the Velo Barn, taking a left on to Pilgrims Lane and then crossing Clarks Lane and continuing along the next section of Pilgrims, turning right on to Rectory Lane and then rejoining Clarks Lane. I rode into Woldingham along The Ridge and then down Slines Oak Road and up the other side towards the 269, taking the steep climb at the end of Sline's Oak in my stride. It was then a case of riding into Warlingham and around the green, through Hamsey and onwards to Sanderstead.

There was a fair amount of fog around too.

More Christmas lights in Arundel Avenue

Shorter daily rides have now become a regular habit. Today, as I write this, it is New Year's Eve, 0946hrs and I make no pretence of the fact that I'm slobbing around on the lap top, but rest assured that I will be out there later on, probably after dark, riding around amidst the Christmas lights of Norfolk and Arundel Avenues. I've mentioned these rides before, they're 5.94 milers and they take around 35 minutes. I think I would be faster if I went out earlier in the day. 

There's nothing better than riding after dark over the Christmas holidays as there are plenty of decorations on display as I ride my circuit and they all add a dreamlike quality to the ride that I don't get at any other time. That said, other seasons, like the summer and the autumn, have their own attractions and I love them all.

Happy New Year to all my readers!

New Year ramblings...

I completed my week on Saturday 2nd January with the Slines Oak Sloth in the grey and cloudy weather. The roads were a bit wet but that was about it. In total another 15.34 miles bringing my weekly mileage to roughly 57 miles, possibly more as I haven't added up the fractions.

On Sunday 3rd January I rode to meet Andy at the Tatsfield Village bus stop where we chatted about a range of subjects, the main one being Andy's assertion that tourism was pointless. Perhaps not pointless but I think what he was getting at was foreign holidays and simply sitting around doing nothing for a week, which I always thought was the point, but I know what he means. Andy says time passes quickly when you're sitting around doing nothing. Now, I'm not sure about that. I always find that a busy schedule makes the time pass faster than if I'm doing nothing and don't forget that a watched kettle never boils, so there you have it. But Andy has point: how many people visit London, I wonder, and think that seeing Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament is all there is to the UK capital? Or who goes to Paris just to see the Eifel Tower?

It was foggy and I thought a little cold so I wore the balaclava and several layers of clothing as well as my face covering thingy, not sure what you call them, possibly a 'snood', but who knows? Either way it made life a little more comfortable on the bike. 

Riding to the Tatsfield Village via Woldingham clocks up 18.23 miles. As you can see from the shot below, the roads were wet and because of the fog the air was damp. At one point I encountered sleety rain, or possibly even snow, on the 269, but nothing came of it.

On Clarks Lane, just past the Botley Hill roundabout...3 January

It's now Monday 4th January and I'm back at work, which was a bit of a wrench if I'm honest. I finished just gone 1630hrs and now I'm sitting at the dining room table blogging. I really hope to be able to get more miles in this week, but as it's dark by 1600hrs then I might need to look at early morning rides that get me back before I start work at 0800hrs. We'll see how that goes. Perhaps a couple of early Norfolk Nobbler Double Loops (10 miles). It would be good to get the mileage up to over 60 miles this week.

Tuesday 5th January and it's cold and rainy outside. It's now 1841hrs and I'm sitting in the sun lounge blogging. I wanted to go for a walk, but it would be too unpleasant. Ben Fogle's back on Channel Five tonight with a new series of New Lives in the Wild. Can't wait. Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but Ben Fogle is one of the best things on television. After that I'll probably watch another 'scary' movie. None of them have been scary yet, just a little bit naff if the truth be known.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the lockdown. Yes, for the third time since March last year we're back in lockdown. For how long nobody really knows, but we've got the vaccines on the way so hopefully it won't be too long. I'm gunning for Easter. Everybody's getting tired of it now, I know that I am.

So, a week of no cycling. But the weather was poor. It was cold and rainy and not really conducive to enjoyable cycling. My cycling week ended on Saturday 9th January and all I managed was around 40 miles, probably just 39. Today (Sunday 10th January) I rode to meet Andy at the Tatsfield Village Bus Stop. He wasn't there. But he did try to contact me. Unfortunately, my phone (once again) had run out of power so I sat alone drinking tea and giving Andy until 1000hrs before heading back home. He never turned up. Later, when I'd charged my phone at home, I opened up the messages and there it was: Andy had aborted, but only because he couldn't get into his garage. An iced up lock prevented him from attending the Sunday morning meeting of NoVisibleLycra. There's always next week.

The weather was cold over the weekend. Yesterday when I rode out around 1000hrs it was just 1 degree as I headed towards my destination: Westerham. I rode there via Pilgrims Lane, past the VeloBarn and then into the town centre. I didn't have a mask or any money so I couldn't stop for a cappuccino and some cake at the Costa on the green. Instead, I rode through the high street and then turned right and headed for the hill that would take me out of town and on the road to Botley Hill. There was thick fog most of the way and on Sunday it was just the same. It was also very lovely. The trees were frosted white and were shedding showers of ice, glass-like shards shaken from the bare branches as the sun tried to poke its head through the swirling, steamy grey clouds. Sunday I rode back from the village via The Ridge and that means my mileage was 18.23. If I could do four Slines Oak Sloths this coming week it would be good, but let's see what the weather has in store.

It's not just the weather, of course. Now I'm back at work my cycling windows are getting smaller. It's dark around 1600hrs, meaning lunch time and first thing in the morning are the only other options. The last thing I want to do is go out first thing in the morning as I need a bit of chill time prior to starting work around 0800hrs. By lunch time I'm in need of a break, so it looks as if cycling is reverting back to two rides per week, at the weekends, but only during this period of darkness and bad weather. Hopefully, as the weather improves, I'll be pushing the envelope again...unless COVID restrictions mean I can't ride out to places like Tatsfield village or Westerham. I think I'll take the risk on that front.

Slow way to bus stop and thick fog...

Yesterday (Saturday) I should have gone out on the bike. Yes, there was rain forecasted and it had been raining (the ground was wet and there were puddles) but it wasn't actually raining, or if it was it was only the odd raindrop, nothing that would have caused any problems. I didn't go out. Andy had aborted.

On the off-road path coming home in the fog

Instead, I went on one of those Saturday afternoon shopping trips having spent most of the morning doing nothing but listening to music, mainly bluesy music, country music and a bit of Bob Dylan who kind of crosses the bluesy, country, folk divide. I love Subterranean Homesick Blues, but also Hank Williams and Johnny Cash. I finished off with This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us, by Sparks, which has nothing to do with any of the aforementioned genres.

After a lunch in the M&S cafe in Bromley I ventured off alone to Waterstone's where I looked at books in the travel literature, history and music sections. I would have bought Eric Hobsbawn's An Age of Extremes (it might have been The Age of Extremes) but they didn't have it. I considered a number of travel books, but eventually settled with Coal Black Mornings by the leader singer of Suede, Brett Anderson.

You can't beat Waterstone's. There's nothing better than a decent bookshop, I don't know what it is, but they're cosy places especially at this time of the year when the darkness of winter encroaches on the late afternoon and Christmas trees appear here and there. The only problem with the Bromley Waterstone's, which is in the Glades shopping mall, is the lack of chairs on which to sit and read.

Watching the fog from the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Sunday 24 November 2019

Later on. Much later on, I was coming back from Oxted in the dark and decided (as I had to kill a few minutes) to measure the mileage of my round-the-block rides. For some time now I've been riding around the block first thing in the morning during the week. It's a good circuit with enough ups and downs to make it worthwhile on a fitness level, but I had no idea how far I was riding. It turns out to be six miles on the nose, which is good as I try to ride the new route three times a week, meaning an additional 18 miles to my cycling. The ride takes around 40 minutes.

And now it is Sunday morning. Everyone in the house is asleep except for me. I'm sitting downstairs in front of the laptop, writing this and listening to classical music on Radio 3 before I head out to the green to meet Andy. When I woke up it wasn't raining and there have been no abort texts. The only possible stumbling block could be if I had a puncture.

Over-the-top florist on Warlingham Green

Well, I didn't have a puncture, but I was running late, although when I reached the green there was no sign of Andy. While I waited I noticed that a Christmas tree had appeared, but no decorations, not yet at any rate. In fact, later on I drove past after dark and there were lights. We rode the slow way to bus stop and as we approached the junction with Clarks Lane, we noticed the fog. It had swept in quickly and there were virtually white-out conditions. Cars disappeared within seconds of them passing and it was good to reach the bus stop where we did what we always do: drink tea and flick our teabags off the end of a teaspoon, seeing who could throw - or flick - their teabag the greatest distance. Today it was fairly level pegging, but Andy's better at it than I am. I reckon he practices in his back garden.

I considered going back via The Ridge with Andy, but in the end opted for the off-road track. Here's hoping I haven't got a puncture. I'll find out in the morning. I reached home around 1010hrs and sat around watching guilty dogs on Youtube, but there are things to be done and I need to get moving, although, to be honest, it's wet and grey out there, not exactly gardening weather.

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To Tatsfield Bus Stop and Godstone Green

The weather was perfect on Saturday and slightly cooler on Sunday, although both days were fine for cycling. On Saturday we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop the slow way and because of heavy fog around Botley Hill, we rode back the slow way too, riding up Hesiers Hill. On Sunday we decided to ride to Godstone Green, not my favourite destination because of the hill on the return ride and that little bit of off-road through the golf course on the outward journey.

A burnt-out truck at the bottom of Hesiers Hill on Saturday morning

I was feeling despondent and depressed all weekend, mainly because I had to keep asking myself what is the point? Everything seemed so futile and pointless and my general state of mind was confirmed as being right, when I thought about the undeserving rich, those fat bastards (all weekend I've been using a much stronger word beginning with C and rhyming with hunt) who seem to have everything, but don't necessarily do anything more for it than those who don't enjoy the spoils of greebling to the boss and eating too much.

There are lots of these people around and they're always fat and beyond the help of exercise. Put simply, they're awful individuals who, quite frankly, I want to avoid like the plague they are; but it's not that easy.

I was watching a documentary the other day entitled Skint Britain. It was set in Hartlepool in the North East of the UK and it was all about people on Universal Credit, a new idea from our Government of Fat Bastards. Basically, these people are on their backs, they have nothing, but the Government's Universal Credit system means that they have to wait a whole month before receiving their benefits and for some of them it's disastrous. They resort to shoplifting and attacking local drug dealers to survive and despite all of this, the Government thinks it's a good system.

Andy's Blast almost at the top of Gangers Hill. I was still pedalling up...

In the corporate world (and in the Government), there are loads of complete idiots in positions of seniority because they're either good at one thing – greebling – or they just happen to be in the right place at the right time. Nobody likes these people in the workplace and you can bet your arse that they've trodden on a few people as they made their way to the top. Some of them shouldn't even be in work, they should have been put out to grass many years ago as their companies set about changing their business models; but no, they're still there earning a pointlessly large salary while their staff get by on a pittance. We all know people like this: two or three holidays a year, eating out all the time (and getting bigger and bigger in the process); half a dozen cars in the driveway – and it probably goes without saying that they vote Conservative. If Jeremy Corbyn ever makes it into Downing Street, he'll tax them into the Stone Age, which would be funny, but until then we've all got to live with the fat bastards.

The worst thing about these people is that they get richer on the work of other less well-paid individuals, the ones with the ideas, who earn virtually nothing and are always on the breadline, worrying about whether they can buy a book or go out for a curry or have lunch in a caff instead of relying upon sweaty egg sandwiches every day. They also have to wait and see what 'the boss' throws their way in the shape of a bonus and meanwhile they fret about whether they are going to be shafted in some way, which they probably will be.

And in all of this let's not forget the worst 'royal' ever – Megan chuffing Markle. Nothing to do with the corporate world, I know, but while people in Hartlepool are resorting to crime to eat, she's out spending £500,000 on a fucking baby shower in New York. Now there's greed for you! The awful Amal Clooney paid £125,000 for Markle's flight there and back in a private jet. And what does Markle do to appease the populace? She writes a load of patronising old bollocks on bananas using a felt pen and gives them to prostitutes. "You are strong" and words to that effect. Oh, there's a revolution coming, there's a revolution coming!

I view the weekends as stepping stones that I reach after five days of working. I was kind of looking forward to this weekend, but it all turned to shit when I was reminded early on that I was nothing, I simply work and work, day-in, day-out, and I get nowhere fast, I have no 'spoils of victory', no nothing, I simply 'get by' if I'm careful and I don't overspend; and you can bet that somewhere not that far away is a fucking fat bastard getting away with it. Come the revolution, of course, these people will be the first against the wall.

Watching the fog...

I had plans to start talking about 'history in the making', but that would have been misleading. The truth is that history hasn't been made at all, it was just another cyclist on the way to see his mum. Another Dawes Galaxy, perhaps, or another recumbent cyclist on his eccentric way to somewhere, but nobody knows where.

What the hell am I talking about? We were sitting at the Tatsfield bus stop, watching the fog. Believe me, it's better than watching paint dry. In fact it's quite educational: watching cars without lights disappearing into the murk, watching cyclists without lights (Lycra monkeys, of course) disappearing or simply cycling past us without a care for their own safety. Why don't people switch their lights on when there's fog? Some did, but an equal amount didn't. The biggest idiots were the Lycra monkeys.

Our bikes – my Rockhopper (left) and Andy's Blast – close to the bus stop

So we're sitting there, sipping tea, watching the fog when somebody turns up and has the audacity to ask me to move my rucksack. Naturally, I oblige and we engage in small talk. He'd cycled from Biggin Hill en route to Warlingham – not a million miles from where we'd set off earlier – to see his mum. I was reminded of my own 'urban rides' to mum's (haven't done one of those for a while) although that said, it's Tuesday as I write this, Tuesday 9th October at 2241hrs, and earlier today I'd seen mum and enjoyed a slice (or three) of fruit cake. But let's get back to last Saturday and the fog and the stranger, who, it turned out, was a nice guy.

We were sitting there at a later time than normal and it was all my fault. I'd switched off my alarm and had forgotten to switch it back on. Result? I woke up at 0700hrs instead of 0600hrs (after a broken night) and had to text Andy to say we should meet at 0800hrs, half an hour later than usual. So naturally we were later and that's how we met this new guy. We never exchanged names, but we did exchange pleasantries, told him we'd been coming here for almost a decade, told him about our other routes and then it was time to say good bye. We watched him disappear into the murk of the fog.

"I wonder if he makes a good sausage sandwich?" said Andy.
"Or a Bakewell tart," I added.

It was all because our recent conversations had focused on Phil and how we never see him anymore.

"He's gone over to the dark side," said Andy.
"Forever," I added.

There wasn't much more to say on the subject and soon it was our turn to pack up and head into the fog. Andy was going home via the Ridge and I stuck to the off-road path on the 269 due to the fog.

Fog ahead. At Warlingham Green 0800hrs

Sunday was another late start. This time Andy sent me a text asking if 0800hrs would be okay. Of course it was okay, I texted back, and settled in for a little more relaxation. I'd been up since 0600hrs and was glad for the lull in proceedings, so glad that I almost missed the 0730hrs departure time.

We decided that a short ride would be the order of the day. I had things going on and needed to be back early so we headed for the good old 'cottage' – a short ride along the 269 and then a left turn into the fields, following an off-road gravel path. When we got there the seating was damp, but it was good to be back at the cottage. Being as the place is right off the beaten track it was tranquil apart from birdsong.

"Imagine if you'd spent the night here," I said.
"If you had a sleeping bag you'd be alright because you're off the ground," said Andy. "It's the ground that's damp," he pointed out.
"I'd pitch up a tent over there," I said, pointing to the woods surrounding the cottage. "Keeping out of sight is crucial."

I found myself wondering why I have this 'camping out' fantasy, this strange yearning to sleep under canvas. It's been with me for years and was bolstered somewhat by reading Mike Carter's One Man and His Bike. Mike combined cycling with sleeping in a tent in a mammoth cycling adventure around the coastline of the United Kingdom. It's one of my favourite books of all-time.

Looking at the fog...

We drank tea, we dunked Belvitas and we chatted about nothing in particular, apart from camping wild. I had to get back so we mounted the bikes and headed off. I raced up the gravel track to the main field, the rear wheel slipping constantly, and then, when I reached the top, I lost momentum and had to dismount. I walked for a few yards and then jumped back on. Andy and I rode side-by-side to the gate and then we both used the road, not the off-road path, to reach Warlingham (it's faster, but also much more dangerous). That said, there was no fog on Sunday morning. In fact, the weather was very pleasant, much warmer than Saturday morning.

Talking of the weather, it's starting to creep towards winter. Last weekend I realised I needed a scarf before heading out – but couldn't find one. If I recall correctly, the week before it was very cold. I think it was around 6 degrees, but it got warmer as the day got older. The pattern seems to be cooler temperatures first thing in the morning, but then rising temperatures as the day progresses, so much so that there are blue skies and sunshine. Today, Tuesday 9th, was an amazing day. Sunshine, heat, and it's mid-October. Not that good weather in October is rare. I remember a ride to the lakes with Andy back in, I think, 2010, when the weather was wonderful, just like a midsummer's day. I've also got a photograph somewhere on this blog of Woodmansterne Green in November – with plenty of leaves still on the trees.

This weekend, the one just past, was good. We managed two rides, albeit both of them were later than usual, but sometimes a slower start is better.

Here's to the next ride...

To Flowers Farm...

Sometimes, the smallest of mistakes can be catastrophic. Well, not catastrophic, but when I realised I'd left my keys in the office, it dawned on me that to get the bike out of the garage I would have to go through the back door instead of the front and use my emergency padlock key, the one I keep in a matchbox. Alright, it wasn't the end of the world, but it was mildly annoying – and made even more so when I discovered there was no milk.

Fortunately, the plan was to ride to Godstone and visit the teashop at Flowers Farm. It would mean tea and cake and, as it turned out, a real log fire. You can't get much better than that, unless a beach is involved, but we would be many miles from the sea.

Cake and a woodburner – pic by Andy Smith

We haven't been to Godstone in a long while and that's because there's a big hill on the return journey. It's so steep that if the gears on our bikes were playing up – and they often were – it was not worth the hassle.

Avid readers will know that my old Kona Scrap was always minus a gear or two and that there was never an occasion when they were all working smoothly. But now that I have a new bike with 27 gears we both felt that a trip to Flowers Farm was long overdue.

The weathermen on TV had promised rain on Sunday but the weather this morning was fine. In fact, the whole day was good. Cloudy, but not cold, so when I headed up the Limpsfield Road towards the green, I felt good and the idea of a ride to Flowers Farm, with the promise of tea and cake at the end of it, filled me with what can only be described as good vibes.

As we rode towards Slines Oak Road, we noticed the fog rolling in, a bit like in the John Carpenter movie. We thought that by heading west towards Godstone we would avoid it, but it stayed with us for most of the journey there and back.

It was weird having to tackle two off-road sections. Ever since I'd taken possession of the Rockhopper I'd managed to keep it spotless clean, but now I found myself riding through mud and puddles, albeit only for a few yards. We then rode through the leafy streets of Woldingham, past the big houses on left and right and on towards the second off-road bit through the golf course. The fog was so thick we could only just make out the trees.

Riding down Gangers Hill without lights – mine without batteries, Andy's simply not switched on – was treacherous enough, but we took it easy and eventually rode over the M25 and then the A22 towards the A25 where we rode the last few yards on the path and parked up at Flowers Farm.

How can I explain to you the greatness of Flowers Farm? A farm shop, a micro pub and, of course, the tea room, not forgetting the wood-burning stove. Andy did the honours – tea for two and two enormous triangular slices of an iced sponge cake with cherries. We took a seat in front of the fire and awaited delivery of the goods. They soon arrived and we sat there enjoying every moment. I found myself mesmerised by the flames of the fire, it's better than television, put it that way, but we still found time to discuss the pointlessness of social media and the uphill slog involved of getting anywhere near to a 'dream' job.

Soon it was time to head home. We'd been sitting there for around 40 minutes simply enjoying the solitude, the warmth of the fire, the conversation and the fact that we weren't on the bikes; but now we had the big hill to confront and as we headed towards it I cranked the bike down to its lowest gear and got on with it. Hills, however daunting, are best tackled by simply getting your head down and going for it. The fog was still making its presence known all around us; I've never known it to be so persistent, but soon we reached the top of the hill and found ourselves back in Woldingham with the golf course to our left and some posh houses on our right. When we reached the top end of Sline's Oak Road we said our goodbyes, promising to be out again tomorrow unless the rain dictated otherwise.

I road the length of Slines Oak Road and managed to handle reasonably well the steep section leading to the 269. I headed towards Warlingham alone. My ride was now flat all the way home and it wasn't long before I found myself free-wheeling down Church Way. But when I reached home I felt oddly guilty about the muddy state of the bike, my new bike, so I took it into the back garden, filled a plastic bowl with warm water and set about getting the mud off the frame. Then I oiled the chain and put the bike back in the garage.

Here's hoping we'll get a ride in tomorrow, but I don't want to lull myself into a false sense of charcuterie, alright, alright, 'security', I was just trying to be funny.

Solo ride to Botley Hill in the fog...

I was awake at 0528hrs but lay in bed awaiting the news headlines at six. I jumped out of bed around 0610hrs and made myself a healthy breakfast: boiled egg, fingers, chopped orange, blueberries, banana plus a Weetabix. Then, around 0710hrs, tea made, I headed outside, jumped on the bike and headed for the green.

Fog at Botley Hill around 0800hrs Saturday.

I'd forgotten that Andy wasn't going until Sunday and only realised this when I reached the green and there was no sign of him. I checked my messages and there it was, "see you Sunday" so I had a range of choices: Westerham, Tatsfield Village, Botley Hill, mum's – or just cycling home. The latter appealed, only briefly, but riding to mum's nagged at me for a few minutes until I decided it was best to see mum late on Sunday afternoon – and take the car.

I headed for Botley Hill, the fast way – I couldn't face Beddlestead Lane – and as I made my way along the 269 I realised that there was going to be a lot of fog. There was no point in risking my neck on the road – you didn't really expect me to have working lights, did you? – so I took the off-road path, risking a puncture (far less damaging).

The fog was real thick so I decided, upon reaching Botley Hill, to go back on the off-road path, rejoining the 269 at Ledgers Road and then riding non-stop through the green and down the Limpsfield Road towards home.

It's weird. Having not been on the bike for the past three weeks I was a little sluggish, especially coming up Church Way, but I'm back in the zone now, which is good. I was, however, grateful to find myself freewheeling down Church Way at the end of the ride, having passed the Sanderstead pond where there were people feeding the ducks.

The weather was wonderful. Yes, it was misty, but it was also mild and dry, arguably the best conditions for riding a bike. I'm a bit worried about whether I'll have a puncture when I next check the bike out tomorrow morning; it's rare taking the off-road track on not getting one, put it that way, but here's hoping.

The off-road track on the 269...

Andy's back tomorrow so we'll probably head for Tatsfield Village and break out the tea and biscuits. Today, while I'd packed the tea and the milk and the hot water I never bothered to drink it – tea is for sharing. I rode non-stop to Botley and back, circling the car park and heading home. I didn't see many other riders, although that might have been the fog's fault. A couple of people were out – Lycra Monkeys – but that was about it.

Weatherwise, it's been mild and right now it's sunny too. I'm hoping things will remain this way for the rest of the weekend and I'm pretty confident they will.

The bike's fine too. I'm keeping it clean and the chain oiled. The old Kona is still in the garage, but it needs fixing: a new bottom bracket, new block, possibly a new crank and definitely a new front brake and possibly two new tyres. It's certainly unroadworthy at this present time.

I'm glad that I forgot Andy was not going today as I would have slobbed about if I'd checked my phone. Instead, I got out there, I took a ride and it was very enjoyable.

The early part of the 269 just past Ledgers Road...

To the Tatsfield Churchyard in the fog...

The mist was there from the outset. It was hanging around outside my front door and it followed me – or did I follow it? – all the way to Warlingham Green. It stayed with us – Andy and I – all the way to the Tatsfield Churchyard where we stopped for tea and biscuits.

Everything was, at best, damp, and at worst, wet. Water fell off the branches of trees overhanging the road and, as we passed Beech Farm, somewhere in the mist, shots rang out. Shotguns. Even in the mist grouse shooting was considered safe. I began to wonder how they would spot the birds and whether Andy and I were sitting ducks, but I'm still alive to tell the tale so I guess there wasn't a risk of being shot.

Andy and Matt, Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 13 March

"I wonder how we would've got on without mobile phones," I said, sitting on a bench in the churchyard and surveying the wet and misty landscape surrounding me.
"How do you mean?" asked Andy.
"If one of us got a puncture or was running late."
"We'd just to have wait," said Andy.
"Yes, assume there's been a problem, give it half an hour and then go on without whoever hadn't turned up."
"We'd have to agree a meeting point and time on the landline before setting out," said Andy. "Just like in the olden days before mobile phones."
"And if we were out and, say, Phil wanted to join us later, he'd have to visit all our known haunts until he found us. I wonder what the best plan of action would be?"
"Ride first to the bus stop, then into the village, then down to here and then Westerham," said Andy.
"Only to discover that we'd riden to St Leonard's Church instead," said I.

"It's definitely not camping weather," said Andy, looking at the wet grass and the dripping trees.
"Did you see that homeless programme on TV during the week? A bunch of celebrities, including Willie Thorne, sleeping rough for charity?"
"No," Andy replied.
"If I was homeless I'd definitely buy a tent and head for the woods. The city would be too dangerous. I'd go to Croham Woods and every morning I'd walk into Croydon and beg for money."

The conversation moved on to Lycra Monkeys. We'd seen a few on the outward ride, as always, and now we were engaged in our usual chat about the discourse of the Lycra Monkey, which, for some reason, we thought, revolved around the subject of pension plans and other 'senior management' topics. The dialogue had started as we rode along the 269 discussing the price of cycling stuff. Andy talked about a bike that cost £8,000 and we moaned about the exploitative nature of the 'sport'. I put the word 'sport' in inverted commas purely because I don't think Andy and I consider what we do a 'sport'. We've said on many occasions that we ride out early in the morning to drink tea and eat biscuits. We're not concerned about 'precious grams' and, as avid readers will know, we don't wear Lycra.

We moved on to talk about farting – as you do – and how the very act is a measure of a new relationship moving on to the next level. When you start a relationship with somebody, farting in front of them is taboo, but when it does take place, it means that things have become a little more serious. A hypothetical chunk of dialogue between two women followed when Andy engaged himself in the following conversation:

"How's things?"
"Yeah not bad; 'things' are getting a little more serious between us."
"How d'you mean?"
"Well, he farted."
"Ooh!"

And with raucous laughter disturbing the misty silence of the churchyard, we wheeled our bikes past the headstones and down the stairs and then cycled up the hill towards Botley Hill Farm and beyond. As we passed Beech Farm the shots rang out again. Perhaps they were aiming for us, I thought, but we survived and as we rode on to Warlingham Green we noticed that the fog had all but disappeared. Pulling up outside the Co-op we discussed next week's ride. Andy wouldn't be going on Saturday.  "So enjoy your ride," he said with a smile and the expected sarcasm that always accompanies the remark.
"Unless Phil goes, I'll probably cycle over to mum's," I said, and with that we rode off in different directions.

Thick fog at Milan's Linate airport...

The 1300hrs Firenze to Milan train

Milan has two main airports: Linate and Malpensa. The former is generally regarded as the best because it is closer to the city centre. I tend to judge an airport by its facilities beyond passport control – that strange, perfumed world characterised by big fashion and accessories brands that only Indians living in Hounslow seem to buy. Whenever I travel,  I like to get the security bit out of the way, which means that if I arrive at the airport early, I get the best of two hours to chill out prior to flying off.

On Monday afternoon I arrived at Linate early having travelled by train from Firenze (Florence). The train journey from Firenze to Milano takes just one hour and 40 minutes and costs 50 Euros. I tried to take a train to Linate, but was told there was only a bus. It cost me five Euros – better than 55 Euros for a cab when I travelled from Linate to the city centre last Thursday (22nd October). The bus journey was short and took me around the back streets of Milan, past overgrown brownfield sites and graffiti-infected walls, but soon I arrived and started to look around for the BA check-in desk. I was too early to check in my bag so I kept it with me, losing my deodorant and shaving foam in the process – it happens all the time. So much so that I've recently started packing a bar of Dove soap because it lathers up well and can be a good alternative to shaving foam. I discovered that my allocated seat (14A) had been changed to an aisle seat further back. I moaned, but not a great deal and I was switched to seat 28A at the back of the plane. Later, however, when I reached the final checkpoint at gate B28, my seat was 'upgraded' to 21A.

Panino Giusto at Linate airport, Milan

Once through security after queuing 15 minutes for passport control, I was a free agent with time to kill. I never, ever entertain any of the shops – for a start I can't afford them and then there's that whole thing about simply not being interested. But I did fancy chilling out with a glass of red wine and something to eat and I was annoyed to discover that Linate didn't offer much in the food department.

I found a place that sold panini breads – Panino Giusto – so I ordered a City (a turkey breast panini) and a glass of red wine, which soon became two, followed by a cappuccino. There's nothing better than a glass of wine and something to eat along with a decent book to read. I'm making good progress through Mark Beaumont's excellent The Man Who Cycled the World so I was in heaven. Beaumont's book, as I've said time and time again in recent posts, is amazing and at this point in time, I've reached the bit where he arrives in Australia. I'm looking forward to his other book, The Man Who Cycled the Americas, which I'm sure will be just as good.

I walked to the gate where I noticed thick fog outside."There's always fog at Linate," said a white-haired, middle-aged businessman with a resigned smile. I wandered around until the flight was called. Outside, the fog was thick, but the BA flight wasn't cancelled. I'm used to spending an additional night in an airport hotel (click here for more information) but not tonight. Yes, there was a minor delay, but once on the plane the cabin crew spoke of a 'zero visibility take-off'.

Milan's Central Station – very impressive

The plane made its way towards the runway and I began to wonder how the pilot was managing to navigate his way there, let alone take off, but he did both and within seconds we were airborne and above the fog and were greeted by 'excellent flying conditions'. There were clear skies all the way to London Heathrow's Terminal 5.

Thick fog at the Tatsfield Bus Stop

Thick fog at Warlingham Green

One of my greatest fears when I wake up in the morning and make my way wearily downstairs to open up the house is finding a wild animal in the living room. I'm not talking about bison or buffalo, python or pig, but I am referring to a squirrel or a fox that might have unwittingly fallen through the chimney stack. I think the worst find would be a squirrel because of the havoc it might wreak once I've opened the door and it's scampered off to wake up the rest of the family.

Oddly, the fear only arises when I reach the downstairs hallway and discover that the door to the living room has been locked. I worry that on opening it I'll be confronted by an affronted, bushy-tailed rodent who then charges off and ruins my weekend – I'd certainly have to send Andy an 'abort' text and then set about the task of apprehending Squirrel Nutkin and ejecting him from the premises.

Fortunately, when I opened the living room door this morning there was nothng to be concerned about, although I do once recall finding a pigeon staring at me in a rather peeved manner and that wasn't too pleasant, I can tell you. I mean, it ruined everything. What was going to be a leisurely start to the day – some Shredded Wheat, a slice of toast, a cup of tea – had been replaced by manic panic while I desperately wondered how the hell the situation could be rectified.

It's October now and when I wake up at 0600hrs it is dark outside. Winter approaches, but so far the weather has been wonderful. All of last week was brilliant sunshine and, apart from a few 'chilly starts' – they really weren't that bad – you could say we've been experiencing an Indian summer. Throughout the working week I've been walking long distances at lunch time through wetlands surrounding Redhill in Surrey and I've trekked from there to Merstham a couple of times too. All-in-all, as Jon Pertwee used to say, "A perfectly excellent chicken korma."

My highlight of the week
A highlight of my week was on Thursday morning when I innocently boarded the 0827hrs train from Purley to Redhill and found myself face-to-face with none other than Michael Portillo, the former Tory Minister of Defence and now a media star in his own right. Portillo – a surname perilously close to Portaloo – is more well known these days for his programme Great British Railway Journeys. And that was why I found him on my train, complete with camera crew. He was on his way to Merstham where, he told me, Alfred Nobel tested his first ever stick of dynamite.

Michael Portillo

With brilliant weather all week, there was always the chance that the weekend would be appalling, but the television forecasters predicted that the good weather would continue over Saturday and Sunday (possibly getting a little cloudy on Sunday) but then the bad weather would kick in next week. All week there had been talk of early morning fog and today there was plenty of it. In fact I've never known it to be so thick and so widespread. On the ride along the Limpsfield Road towards Warlingham Green it was so dense that I couldn't see the Green until I was virtually on it.

As we rode towards Botley Hill there was no let-up. The fog stayed with us all the way to the bus stop where we had agreed to stop, drink our tea and relax with a BelVita biscuit. Well, alright, we had four each as there was no Phil this morning – he'd aborted, but promised sausage sandwiches for Sunday. The fog remained thick throughout our chill-out time at the bus stop. Passing cars simply disappeared within nanoseconds of passing us and we both knew that the ride home would be more precarious than the outward journey, mainly because of thick fog and increased traffic flow.

Steel, Syria, Religion and nationalism
Our conversation was multi-faceted covering the closure of SSI UK's steel plant in Redcar and the reasons behind the company's decision to shut up shop (cheap Chinese steel imports, punitive UK business rates – higher than in France and Germany – and, of course, equally punitive green taxes). We moved on to discuss the crisis is Syria and how the West should be supporting the Russian initiative (to eradicate ISIS but leave Assad in power) rather than adhere to ideologically-based thinking designed solely to create divisions and fuel unrest both regionally in the Middle East and on the international stage. That said, how can Assad remain in power when he is effectively the cause of the problem and the mass migration experienced in Europe these past few months. One could argue, however, that the West has caused all the problems and then effectively done nothing about it. We invaded Iraq (illegally and after Blair had weaved a pack of lies about 'weapons of mass destruction'. We had a big hand in the downfall of Gaddafi and we've been supplying arms to various rebel groups in Syria to fight Assad.

Thick fog at the Tatsfield Bus Stop

The conversation weaved its way around to religion and nationalism and how both are the root of all evil in the world.

Soon it was time to head home and we thought it best, once on the 269, to use the off-road track. This is a risky tactic because of the hawthorn bushes that line the path. We were both chancing it. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if we get a puncture," I said to Andy as we reached the roundabout near Warlingham Sainsbury's.

We rode to the Green where we resolved to meet again tomorrow morning at 0730, hopefully with Phil and his amazing sausage sandwiches.

To the Tatsfield Bus Stop in thick fog – and we get a major soaking too

Having been foolish enough to say yes to tiramisu in an Italian restaurant in Wimbledon last night, I felt I had to get up early and ride out to somewhere like Westerham, but the weather appeared to be dictating otherwise. It had clearly rained in the night, but seemed clear when I woke up at around 0510hrs and considered getting out of bed. By 0537hrs I'd done just that and went downstairs to make a bowl of porridge, which I was eating around 0600hrs.

Thick fog at the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Sunday 6th April 2014

There was a constant threat of 'abort', but by the time I found myself outside, hand outstretched to feel for rain, there appeared to be nothing so I headed off for Warlingham Green where, at 0706hrs, I found Andy on his Kona Blast.

Westerham had been the plan, but we figured that the benches there would be wet and the weather was looking threatening so we opted for the long way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. There was nothing in the way of traffic and no other cyclists either as we wound our way around the country lanes, down Hesiers Hill and up Beddlestead Lane. Halfway along we encountered an ever-thickening fog, so thick that we couldn't see any of the usual landmarks – the totem pole-shaped dead tree trunk and, of course, the communications tower that means there's only a few yards before Clarks Lane.

Andy and Matt at the Tatsfield Bus Stop. I was staring like a lunatic at the fog.

We turned left and headed for the bus stop, but I missed it, mistaking Approach Road for the road I'd just exited (how odd is that?). But eventually we arrived and got out the tea and cereal bars. The fog remained thick throughout our time at the bus stop and we watched a couple of cyclists disappear into the murk before packing up and heading into it ourselves.

Since the flooding earlier in the year, there's been a few closed roads around the Whyteleafe area, prompting Andy to ride to the Green with me before saying goodbye. Today he informed me that the roads in question had re-opened and that he'd be taking the off-road track off the 269. By the time we reached it, the fog had cleared but the heavens had opened and we both got a serious soaking as we headed for our respective homes. The rain didn't let up and by the time I was padlocking the bike in the garage I was truly soaked through. I reached home at 0906 hours, thanks to the 0700hrs start earlier at the Green.

The rain eventually eased up but there have been cloudy skies all day and a constant threat of showers.

To Botley Hill in thick fog...

There's no escaping it: if you drink red wine and eat a rich (ish) meal later than usual (in this case around 8.30pm) then you can expect to wake up in the middle of the morning and then not be able to get back to sleep again. This happened to me this morning. At around 3.30am I found myself awake and even considered going downstairs to mess around on the computer. Eventually, realising that I would eventually fall asleep and then have major difficulty getting up at 6am, I decided to abort the ride.

Yours truly in the fog at Botley Hill, 9.50am, Saturday 5th April 2014.

Once again it was a lovely day when I eventually surfaced around 8am so I decided that, after breakfast, I would head out alone to Botley Hill for one of those non-stop (ish) rides.

The weather was wonderful when I set off on the dot at 9am. I reached Botley Hill at 9.50am, took the two shots accompanying this post and then, at 9.55am, headed home. It took me 30 minutes to ride from Botley Hill to home. I got back at 10.25am.

Despite the lovely weather, as I progressed along the 269 the fog got thicker and thicker and by the time I reached Botley it was so thick I wished I'd put my lights on. On the return journey I took the risk of a puncture by riding along the off-road path until the fog disappeared and then I rejoined the road.

A good ride. Andy texted me to say he went out very early and was back home by 7am. Tomorrow we're planning a ride to Westerham and will be meeting on Warlingham Green at 7am. Phil won't be riding this weekend.

Next to the pub sign at Botley earlier today.

Two short runs to Botley Hill

Botley Hill, Saturday 16 February 2013 – no fog to be seen!

We got out on both days, but Saturday was better than Sunday in terms of the weather. For a start there was no fog. Well, actually, that was about it, there was no fog. The only thing wrong with Sunday was the fog as I had no batteries in my rear light for the outward journey and fog, generally, is a bit depressing.

I'm writing this from my hotel room in Essen, Germany and it's nearly 11pm, time for me to hit the sack.

This weekend Andy and I met at Warlingham Green at 0730hrs on both Saturday and Sunday and headed out for Botley Hill. On Saturday I had to be back early for various family commitments. In fact, we stopped briefly for tea outside the pub and then I raced home, saying goodbye to Andy halfway along the 269 and powering all the way to Sanderstead. I made it from Botley to my house in under 30 minutes, which was not bad going.

Then, on Sunday, it was much the same. This time, Andy had things to do so a quick one to Botley and back was just the ticket, although we spent longer drinking our tea than yesterday (Saturday) and I didn't race home either.

One day later and look at that fog!

There's a load of stuff to discuss, like the mouse in my house, the mouse that had the audacity to join us in bed last Monday morning. This caused understandable uproar and caused two members of my family to move out. Actually, I went too, from Monday through Wednesday, but then decided to stay back home on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. As I mentioned above, I'm now ensconced in a nice Holiday Inn in Essen, without any mice and I've enjoyed a pleasant dinner too and to be honest, I'm ready for bed and I'm so glad that, even though I'm alone (as I have been at home since Thursday) at least I know that there's no possibility of a mouse joining me in bed. Well let's hope not at any rate. Tonight and until Tuesday night, my wife and daughter will be at the in-law's and the mouse will have the run of our house. Although they ought to beware: I've given up the old humane traps and put in a proper mouse trap, baited with peanut butter.  Oddly, since Monday, when mousey joined us in bed, we've not seen or heard him. I've been there alone and there's not even been a scratch. Still, it's all very depressing. I hate it when my wife and daughter are separated. It feels unsettling, so the sooner we sort things out, the better.

The plan is to get a builder round to check out the house for holes and places were mice can get in. He'll then seal all entrances and we'll carry on with traps until the little blighters are gone once and for all. In addition to traps, I've bought this ultrasound thingy you plug into the wall and it emits a sound that only mice can hear. Apparently, it drives them mad. It seems to work as every night I've slept there alone I've put one in my bedroom – no mouse. It's like a kind of force field to protect against mice and it seems to be working, although many people doubt their effectiveness. I'll reserve judgement, but so far, so good.

With the mice and everything else it's all been very depressing. I left the house around 12.30pm for Gatwick Airport and a pleasant easyJet flight to Dusseldorf. I then boarded the sky train to the airport railway station and a train to Essen, followed by a taxi to my hotel. It's odd to think that I started the day in the fog on the bike and finished it in a pleasant hotel room in Essen, Germany.

Needless to say, stranger things have happened at sea.

Rain, wind and fog – but it didn't phase me!

Soaked in the fog, wind and rain, 0825hrs, Sunday 10 February 2013.

It's been an interesting weekend weather-wise. Yesterday morning (Saturday) there was a wonderful sunrise with a huge orb burning on the horizon and silhouetting the bare trees against a purple sky. Sadly, I didn't have my camera on me, otherwise I'd have taken a shot of it. Besides, it was a rushed ride for me, a non-stop special to Botley, round the roundabout and home. The weather was fantastic. A little cold, but generally fine, albeit mildly wet, not because of rain during the ride but definitely in the early hours of the morning. Puddles on the roadside provided plenty of evidence.

I'd left the house early due to family commitments and met Andy at the Green. We headed off for the Tatsfield Bus Stop, but Andy had to turn back just beyond Knights Garden Centre and I continued alone and turned around at the mini-roundabout.

Sunday was going to be Westerham, or even Redhill, but the weather dictated otherwise. There was a fine rain when I went out around 7am and it was touch and go. I texted Andy and we decided to meet at the Green, but as I my ride progressed, the rain, while still fairly mild and not really a big problem, increased slightly in its intensity. When I reached Warlingham Green I thought I saw Andy talking to another cyclist, but it turned out to be two complete strangers who were off on a long ride towards Reigate Hill. They asked me to join them, but I declined. Actually, they weren't total strangers. I'd met one of them a few weeks back and we chewed the fat about bikes and stuff.

My phone said '10 missed calls' and 'one message' and they were all from Andy. The rain had picked up a bit over Caterham way and he decided to abort. Now, I could have turned around and come home, but I persevered a little bit, reaching Warlingham Town Hall and riding into its small car park where I made a few circles while deciding whether to carry on or just go home. It wasn't too bad out, I thought to myself, and then exited the car park left and headed up the road towards Botley. There was a wind coming straight at me, which made the rain seem worse than it was. In fact, if I turned the bike around, as I did twice while still deciding whether to push ahead or not, I noticed that travelling north, with the wind behind me, was far more pleasant than riding south. But I was out and even facing the wind wasn't that bad so I carried on, past Sainsbury's, past the pub that has been turned into a coffee shop, called something like Anana and on towards the garden centre and then the pond on the corner of Slines Oak Road. I passed Ledgers Road thinking 'if I turn around now it'll be ten miles all in', but no, I kept going.

It's amazing how, once out in the rain it never seems as bad as it looks when you're indoors looking out.  I knew that I was going to make it all the way to Botley, although as the journey progressed, past that lonely bus stop that marks the end of the hill on the 269 the wind increased as the terrain became more exposed and a fog appeared to be rolling in. With only a front light – my rear light needed new batteries – I moved on to the thorn-ridden pathway that runs the length of the road but decided to hit the road again as I didn't want to risk a puncture. At one point, I was beginning to regret coming out – or rather I was beginning to regret going further than just Knights as I was facing thick fog, rain and wind, but I was well beyond the point of no return and was very pleased when I saw the broken Botley Hill pub sign.

Bearing in mind the conditions, I didn't go as far as the mini roundabout and settled for the gate to the pub on which I rested the Kona while I took the photograph accompanying this post.

There were other cyclists out, but only the hardy few. Once the shot was taken I headed back home with the wind behind me, but still got soaked. There were puddles lining the roads most of the way back, including one huge one that spanned the width of the road. I waited for cars travelling in both directions to go through the puddle first before aiming the bike at the middle of the road – where there was less puddle – and made my own way through. Then I stopped to take a shot of the puddle, resting the camera on the ground so it looked like a huge lake; except that on this occasion it just looked like a puddle and I didn't have the inclination to try different angles to achieve my sad objective. I found myself standing there, in the middle of the road, soaking wet, thinking to myself, how ridiculous! Taking a photograph of a puddle on a rainy day. It's not as if I haven't got anything better to do! Realising what a complete nob cheese I was being, I packed away the camera, mounted the bike and headed for home.

Once I reached the downhill bit of the 269 I experienced a lot of face-ache; it was like an ice cream headache and it didn't wear off until I'd slowed down on my approach to the Sainsbury's roundabout.

I had a bit of a headache anyway, thanks to a couple of glasses of red wine the night before – we had cottage pie and there's nowt better than a glass or two to go with it. I'd only had a couple of glasses – alright, three or four – but I woke up around 0330hrs with the beginnings of a headache. I must have fallen back to sleep because I was awakened by Radio Four and Something Understood, which this week featured the Dalai Lama talking about Buddhism. Normally I'm up and out of bed by just gone six, but today I just lay there listening to the radio until 0630hrs when I jumped out of bed and quickly changed, made the tea and caught a bit of breakfast TV before going out and noticing the rain. That was when I called Andy and we decided to meet at the Green.

I was soaked through when I reached home and had to change into my dressing gown (which I'm still wearing now at 1124hrs). Tea, an egg sandwich, Shredded Wheat and bread and marmalade (St Dalfour Orange and Ginger, did the trick and now, as the rain continues outside, I sit here writing this post glad that despite the rain, I got out there and rode the bike.

Both today and yesterday I clocked up 14 miles so that's 28 in total. Not bad considering the rain normally manages to abort the ride. Here's to better weather next week.

Into the fog...

View across Clarks Lane to White Lane, Saturday 12 November 2011 around 0830hrs.

Last night, around 11.30pm, I switched on the radio just in time for the weather forecast and found that Saturday's fog was more widespread than I thought. Up on Botley Hill, fog has always been a problem, even in the height of summer. I remember when we used to drive out towards Botley Hill en route to a pub in Brasted. Sometimes, we'd be driving along and suddenly hit a wall of fog, even when, elsewhere it was as clear as crystal.

On Saturday, cycling only to the Tatsfield Bus Stop due to family commitments, the fog was what my dad would have called a 'real pea souper'. At least I think that's how the expression goes. Anyway, it was thick and while I know that I never have lights, nor, it seems to other cyclists – and they were riding fast and in packs. Very dangerous. At least I kept off-road.

We sat at the bus stop, from where Andy took this post's photograph, and found that cars disappeared before our eyes in a matter of seconds. It was a bit of a risky situation and it didn't clear either. On the way back, we stayed off road for most of the journey, hugging the grass banks leading down to the Botley Hill pub and then keeping off road for the length of the B269. The fog didn't clear until I reached Warlingham Green.

In the news at the moment: England's footy team beat Spain 1-0 last night, Silvio Berlusconi has resigned as Italy's prime minister, business secretary Vince Cable says he has sympathy for the anti-capitalist protesters camped outside of St. Paul's Cathedral, and it is being suggested by opposition leader Ed Miliband, that the Eurozone crisis is good news for David Cameron. Why? Because he can use it as a smokescreen to hide his inaction on the economy.

Two years ago....

Tatsfield village

A field halfway along the B269 and yards from where Andy and I parted company.

Sunday 13 March 2011: Having watched Top Gear recently and got a little excited about (ahem) the Skoda Yeti, I was amazed not only to see one – in Tatsfield – but to discover that it wasn't exactly of Chelsea Tractor proportions. Andy and I were sitting at the village bus stop gassing about something or other and there it was and we both agreed that we'd like one – not that either of us have the money, but that's another issue.

Andy on the B269 prior to parting company.

So, Tatsfield Village. We're here because it's a good destination, not too boring, a fairly good distance away and there's a covered bus stop to shelter from the weather. Mind you, it is fast becoming our default destination, but that's because of the state of my bike – gears and rear brake are buggered – and the run to the village is not big on steep hills. It's still a good 16-mile round trip.

It was hard to believe I was only 30 minutes or so away from civilisation

Compared with Saturday, Sunday's weather was not good. Later in the day (around 3pm) it rained and I took shelter in a Costa Coffee shop, watching the rain dribble from the awning, but on the ride it was damp and misty. The word 'misty' is an understatement; up on Botley Hill it was very thick fog – a real pea soup as they say – and yes, you've guessed it, I had no lights.

We managed to avoid a soaking, although I picked up a wet arse, courtesy of no mudguards, but that was the height of any problems we encountered.

Andy's found a new way home along a dirt track half way along the B269 on the return trip, so we parted company in fog and vowed to meet again next week. I stopped and took a few photographs and they illustrate this post.