This and that...

At the Lookout Cafe, Biggin Hill, Kent

Last week I rode 60 miles, two 21-milers and 18 miles during the week, not bad going, I thought. The two longer rides were both to Biggin Hill, which is a funny old place. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's certainly the home of 'white van man' and there are plenty of England flags on lamposts, but that's not really it, there's something else and whatever it is, it depresses me, it always has. Riding up Sunningvale Road was tough, easily the steepest hill I've climbed. On the first take, I lost momentum because the gears weren't lined up properly. In other words I was in the wrong gear and had to dismount and start again. At one point the chain came off on the first ride, but I was a little more prepared on the second ride and managed to get all the way to the top even if I was half dead when I got there. I cycled across the road to the Lookout Cafe, which was right on the airport, almost on the tarmac. Next door there was a flying school and no, I didn't even think about it. 

The Lookout cafe is ok but again, it lacks something, there's no atmosphere, but the place itself is good, there's a decent menu, you can order toasted crumpets, for example, there are plenty of cakes too, but I'd advise you not to have the 'farmhouse fruit cake', its far too greasy and left a greasy residue on my plate. I ordered it on the first trip out and left half of it, but on the second trip I bought a London cheesecake and I love London cheesecakes. When I was a kid I referred to London cheesecakes as 'whisker cakes' because of the shredded icing on top. They remind me of being a kid and they are really good cakes, but I was glad, after eating it, that I had a good 10 miles of riding to do. You need something to burn the calories after eating a 'whisker cake'.

On my first trip to the Lookout, it was packed and I couldn't figure out why the people were there: were they going to have flying lessons, were they flying off somewhere, were they airplane spotting or, like me, were they just there for the cake and the tea? Without asking them, there was no way of knowing. 

Light aircraft behind barbed wire at Biggin Hill, Kent...

On the second trip, I met Andy. It was his idea that we visit the Lookout and I'm glad we did as the ride to Biggin Hill, especially coming up Sunningvale Road, made the trip a proper work-out even if Sunningdale was the most punishing hill I'd ever climbed, even more of an ordeal than White Hill Lane on the way home from Redhill to my house. I think if I go back at the weekend, which I might, there's a strong chance I'll go up Stock Hill (or is it Stocks Hill?) as, for some reason it's psychologically better for me; I get this way sometimes, it's a bit the ride to Godstone when we go through the golf course, there's a bit I simply don't like and I can't put my finger on why, it just depresses me in some way. While Stocks Hill is fine, Sunningvale isn't and there's no rhyme nor reason for it.

I like a decent cafe, mainly because I like to sit there reading a book and sipping a mug of tea. The pastry or the cake is a bridge too far and I always feel disappointed in myself if I weaken, which I often do, especially if I find myself in Coughlans in Oxted, all those delicious-looking cakes staring at me, it's hard not to order one. But that's because I'm weak, I can't leave them alone however much I try and believe me I try, but not hard enough. I tend not to eat cake in Sheree's in Tatsfield, where a cup of tea will suffice, but everywhere else I'm tempted.

I try not to eat cake but last week I enjoyed a carrot cake in Busy Beans in Redhill. At least it's a carrot cake that has real carrots in it, I don't think carrot cakes elsewhere are like that; and yet, oddly, it's the thought of a cake with carrots in it that puts me off carrot cake. There's a big difference between cakes and pastries and normally, if I'm sitting in Caffe Nero in Oxted, I order the apricot croissant, sometimes an almond croissant, but in all honesty, the best place for the latter is Coco & Nut in Sanderstead, it's the filling, it's to die for. In Coughlans I often opt for the Bakewell tart and elsewhere anything goes unless I'm in Costa where I'm tempted to eat their rather processed version of the Bakewell tart. For me, the biggest sin is the millionaire's shortbread. Whenever I have one I regret it in the same way that I regret ordering tiramisu for dessert in a restaurant. Where eating is concerned I tend to regret a lot. The other day I found myself in the village of Graffham in West Sussex, I'd driven out of nearby Petworth and found a general store. In I went and found that they offered food. I ordered a sausage sandwich, another mistake and even more so when they fill the thing with half a dozen sausages sliced in half long ways. I munched my way through layers of sliced sausage, enjoying every bit of it but also regretting it. I've kind of given up on being frugal with food and this has been going on since the pandemic, although I'm getting better. We tend to eat well and by that I don't mean we stuff our faces. The food in our house is light and healthy and my breakfasts are always on the money: porridge with cacao powder and milled flaxseeds, a few grapes and a segmented orange. If I'm going to let myself down it's at lunch time. Normally, if I take sandwiches (egg, or egg and avocado or turkey slices off the bone with mustard pickle) I might wander over to Busy Beans and order a tea and a slice of their aforementioned carrot cake. In fact, of late, they've added a coffee and walnut cake, which is pleasant. 

This week I haven't been on the bike as much as last week. Sometimes I just don't feel motivated enough, it's weird. Last week I was up for it every night after work, Wednesday through Friday, and then the aforementioned Biggin Hill rides. I think it was the weather. There was spring sunshine and it put a spring in my step too. This week I did nothing. Tomorrow will be my first ride, probably Oxted or Westerham depending on how I'm feeling, or the non-stop ride, who knows? Not me. Not yet at any rate, it all depends on tomorrow.

Work has been a bit stressful of late, so I took a half day today and went into town, Battersea Power Station to be precise. I bought a pair of trainers and what a palaver it was too. Not today so much as I'd learned my lesson from the previous weekend, the weekend when my week totted up to 60 miles of riding. 

I hate buying clothes and shoes

I don't know about you, but I really don't like buying clothes, that's probably why I always end up walking out of the store with the wrong-sized trousers or shoes that should be bigger or smaller than what I bought. I always look a bit of a mess. Last week I drove to Bluewater to look for a decent pair of trainers. It all started three years ago when I purchased (from Clarks) a pair of ATL boots made with Gore Tex. They were great and, give or take, I wore them every day for around three years. Recently, I noticed that they were starting to wear through so I figured it was time to go looking for a new pair of shoes. What I really wanted was the same pair of ATLs that I was replacing, but Clarks no longer sold them and it was impossible to get them anywhere else. The key to the ATL's success was the soles, especially the upturned bit at the heel, but it was all academic, Clarks didn't sell them and nor did anybody else. So, I figured a decent pair of trainers would be the next best thing, something understated enough for use at work. But would a pair of trainers do the job? Would I be wearing them for the next three years, daily? I thought not, but I decided to take the gamble and give it a go; it was just a case of getting out there and buying the right pair. Fine, you might think. I know my size (size 44) so it should be a doddle. But no, it wasn't. For a start, when I tried on a size 44 it didn't fit. Why? That's my size! But no, I'd have to try on a half-size bigger. Fine, so I'm 10.5, not 10, when it comes to trainers. I found myself in a shop called Snow and Ice and, for the first time ever, I found the best salesperson... IN THE WORLD! She said she had my interests at heart. Yeah, right, but ultimately, I think she did. She scanned my feet and to my surprise I wasn't a size 10 (44), I was, according to the machine, a size 9! That simply can't be true. If I try on a size 44 and they're too small, I'm definitely not a size 9. In fact I know I'm not a 9 (43) because none of the shoes I have ever worn were size 9, my feet are too big for a size 9, end of. And now it looks as if I'm not a size 10 either, I'm a size 10.5, when it comes to trainers at any rate. My brain was frazzled by the end of the day, probably because of all that cycling, and I left Bluewater with nothing. All I knew was that if I wanted a pair of trainers I was a half-size up on my normal shoe size. I am now, a week later, the proud owner of a pair of Adidas trainers, they're black and they're Gore Tex but whether they last as long as those ATLs, well, I'm sceptical. But think about it for a minute. I have my feet scanned and they tell me I'm a size 9, not 10, which ain't true. I'll say no more. 

After one ride to Biggin Hill and a drive to and from Bluewater, not forgetting the wandering around trying to find a decent pair of trainers, I think I tired myself out if I'm honest with you; I felt so weary. The thing is, I can't do everything, I'm not Superman. I rode 60 miles on the bike, drove all the way to Bluewater shopping centre and then, when I got back I lifted sections of a rotten tree trunk into the back of the car and took them to the dump. I was knackered basically. This week my workload has been less and that makes me more likely to get out on the bike. The trick is to be motivated enough to go early and not to forget things and have to come back, that's always very annoying, but it happens to me a lot, mainly because I've always got loads of things on my mind. I often leave without my rucksack, which I need if I ride the Kona as it doesn't have a crossbar bag in which to carry a pump and puncture equipment. The problem, of course, is if I take the rucksack with pumps and puncture kit one week because I'm on the Kona, I then take the other bike out the following week and forget that I don't have a pump or puncture gear in the crossbar bag. Sometimes I go back for it; most days I do, but sometimes I don't realise until it's too late and I end up gambling. Yes, there's a good chance I won't get a puncture, but if I do and I'm miles away from home and nowhere near a railway station then I'll have to walk and believe me, it takes forever, pushing a bike 10 miles takes hours which in turn ruins/wastes the day. So I have to get my shit together or at least remember what's where and when: if the Kona's coming out to play I need to take the rucksack with all the gear in it; if it's not and I use the Rockhopper then I must ensure that the pump and other stuff is in the crossbar bag. I often put a beanie hat on and then forget to put on my crash helmut. Whenever this happens I return to get it unless I've gone too far before I realise and then I just carry on (it's rare that that happens).

It's nice going shopping during the week when there's nobody around, less people, no queuing for the toilet, the restaurants have vacant seats and so do the trains unless you leave it until rush hour. Because we were all too tired to cook I went out and bought a few things (pasta, a vegetable samosa and other stuff that would be needed during the week). I bought a tin of Nutella. I'm sure it's not that good for you but if I'm determined to take a sandwich to work (and save money) sometimes it's good to have something like Nutella hanging around as it's easy to spread and I'm good to go. The downside is that it's great and that means it's addictive and even now I'm thinking about a Nutella sandwich, but I think I can resist.

I'm obsessed with Pellegrino sparkling mineral water, I could drink it all day and all night. I normally have a glass first thing in the morning with my breakfast and then another when I get home from work. I've always liked sparkling water. I remember drinking a lot of Badoit back in the day and now that I don't drink alcohol, it's been over eight years, it's a drink I can enjoy both inside and outside the house. Incidentally, on the not drinking thing, I don't miss it, never have, not once, and I'll never ever go back to beer or wine or anything. It is a poison, remember, and poisons don't do anybody any good. I just don't need it anymore, that's the key thing. I gave up overnight back in October 2017 and I haven't touched a drop since. In that way I have great willpower, but when I think about it, I didn't need willpower, I just stopped and never went back. It's one of the best things I've ever done outside of marrying my wife and having a son and a daughter. I often wish I'd stopped earlier, I'd have probably been a better person, who knows? Was I such a bad person? No, I wasn't. A bit boisterous on occasion, made a fool of myself here and there, got a bit of reputation, but now it's all gone, the whole damn lot of it. No hangovers, not many late nights, and I suppose that makes me a more sensible person. 

It's almost 2100hrs, 9 o'clock in old money, and I'm going to be moving to the conservatory to read. I've got two books on the go at present: Charles Bukowski's Ham on Rye (what a brilliant book!) and Geddy Lee's My Effin Life, also an absolutely brilliant book. I'm really obsessed with Rush at the moment. I've been watching interviews on YouTube, I know all about them touring the UK next year (I'm guessing they'll be at Glastonbury and if they are, I'd be tempted to go). Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson are great people, I envy their friendship and I like the fact that they're not rock and roll casuaautiful Booklties. One of these days I'm planning a post dedicated to them. I really want to buy Geddy's  Big Beautiful Book of Bass, it's a coffee table book and I must get it soon. Geddy Lee is a collector, he collects bass guitars and baseballs and he is the lead vocalist and bassist for Rush and they're a great band, enriched by Geddy and Alex's friendship. I won't go on now, I want to write something a little more meaningful and that takes time. Right now I'm too tired and I need to be in the conservatory reading, it's a new routine. Normally I don't read that much at home, I leave it for train journeys, plane journeys and sitting in cafes (my favourite place to read and write). I'm going now, see you again soon I hope.

More meaningless words...

Last weekend, I broke the pattern of just one ride per week. That said, the week before I didn't ride anywhere. I might have said this before, but things conspire against me and I end up not riding and it's not just the weather, it's everything from chores around the house to not having charged my phone enough before heading out to having to do something or go somewhere. And worst of all things, my own underlying laziness that simply makes me eat something and sit around rather than hit the road. But then, let's not forget the weather, which hasn't been good; it's only been the last week, possibly the last fortnight, that the weather has improved.

I did feel ashamed, but I couldn't be bothered to fix the puncture

Last Saturday the plan had been to ride to Oxted, do my usual thing, like reading whatever novel I'm reading and drinking a cup of tea, and then heading home, but when I reached Limpsfield I noticed a wobble and yes, I had a puncture. The problem was that there were plans to do things and I didn't want to disappoint people so instead of doing what I should have done (fix the puncture and then ride home) I decided to be lazy instead and get the train home (£5.20). I felt awful because it was cheating and while I didn't exactly miss the uphill ride on Titsey Hill, there was a little bit of relief knowing that I wasn't going to do it. The only good thing was that I found a coffee shop (an independent) right by the entrance to the station and it looked like my kind of place. Perhaps I'll go back there on Saturday... but not until I fix last Saturday's puncture, it's on the front wheel, so far less hassle than the rear one and I should have done it but never got round to it.

One of the things stopping me riding has been the garden. The grass was in need of a cut, the first cut of the year, and it wasn't easy. I did the rear garden the week before last and the front lawn last week, but for the rear lawn I forfeited a ride and that was the weekend of no cycling. But! There's always a but. I got a lot of exercise not only mowing the lawn but taking out a dead tree which sits at the top of the garden as I write this. This coming weekend (today's Wednesday) I'll go out there and cut up the tree into logs and then I'll use those logs in a fire pit on the patio. I haven't bought it yet, but I plan to and then I'm going to sit outside in the early evening, burning a few logs and chilling as the night sets in. Or maybe not, it all depends on the weather and let's not forget that we're almost in April and that means 'April showers'.

While I took the train home last Saturday, I did manage two rides. Yes, the first ride was around nine miles on the outward journey to Oxted, on Sunday I rode to Tatsfield village to meet Andy, so I got out on both days and also mowed the front lawn (for the first time this year). One great piece of exercise, by the way, is lawn raking. I'll be doing some raking this coming weekend as the gardening doesn't stop until November. I normally stop in October but my neighbour said he always gives a last cut in November because it makes things easier when the cutting season comes around again.

I'm still not doing things and by that I'm saying that I keep meaning to do this and that but I never get around to it and I need to kick myself into gear. If I sit in a chair in front of the television I get cosy and sometimes I nod off and miss whatever I was intending to watch on the box. I've also got to stop eating marmalade. Yes, I'm back on it. I'm on my third, possibly even my fourth consecutive jar. I had planned to stop after the last jar, but a trip to a place called Graffham in West Sussex led me to a store that sold marmalade and I'm a sucker for traditional marmalade, you know the sort of thing, the gingham cloth covering the lid. I love it, but buying another jar set me on the road of having a couple of slices of toast and marmalade for breakfast every morning plus another couple of slices when I return from work. So, when my current jar expires, that's it unless I feel so demotivated that I feel tempted to buy another one. Comfort shopping, that's what it is.

This evening I read an article about the benefits of walking so I'm going to ramp up my walking. I used to walk a lot at work and recently I have started walking to Merstham from Redhill (it's around two miles). I might start walking 5km at lunch time and then the two-mile jaunt in the evening, every evening. And what about swimming? Well, I've not gotten round to that either and I need to and soon. Trust me, it's going to happen sooner or later. Sooner I hope. I think the key with exercise is to build it into your daily schedule. We'll see how things go.

What am I reading right now? Charles Bukowski. I started with Post Office and now I'm reading Ham on Rye I loved Post Office and I note that Bukowski wrote a book on writing, called On Writing. Will it be better that Stephen King's book of the same name? Who knows? One thing I will say is that I love books about writing written by writers. Consider This by Chuck Palaniuk is brilliant but there was one by Murakami that I really didn't like as he never really answered the big questions and I hated that. 

It's getting late, 22.23hrs to be precise and something else I mean to do is go to bed early. I messed up last night and possibly the night before too, but I've got to get into bed around 2230hrs, something I'm not going to do tonight by the looks of things, but then I can have a later start tomorrow as I'll be working from home, no commuting, so all should be well. I'm planning an early walk before work too as I want to get more steps in. 

Gotta go!

Lockdown, Part 33: A week without cycling...

You might recall that last week (or was it the week before?) I somehow managed to damage the joint below the big toe on my left foot. I made matters worse by riding to Westerham (21 miles) last Saturday and then, well, I saw sense and decided to have a rest from riding the bike. I hadn't done too badly. The first week back after picking up my bike from Ross Cycles I put in around 64 miles and then the following week, culminating with last Saturday's 21-miler to Westerham, I think I upped the ante to 71 miles. All was good, but the time off from riding proved to be a good idea. I haven't been on the bike for eight days and while my lack of riding nagged at me for a day or two, I put my mind to rest by reasoning that all the gardening I was doing instead was more than compensating. In truth, it wasn't, but who cares?

Chicken, leek and tarragon pie - you can't beat decent pub food!

On Thursday I went to a local garden centre and bought a few boxes of 'weed & feed' (I know how to live when I'm on holiday!). I applied it liberally to the lawn and the following morning the grass had been blackened. I'm told that a change of colour proves that it's working, doing its job, killing off the weeds and moss, so I'm not that worried about it. In fact I'm glad that my lawn is well and truly on the mend and on the way to greatness, or at least I hope so. The weeds and the moss will hopefully be replaced by vibrant and green grass and I can enjoy it for the rest of the summer.

The Rockhopper resting outside Tatsfield village...

It's not just the lawn that's been getting a bit of TLC, although the lawn is pretty important in the general scheme of things as it's huge and takes up a lot of space. I also dug up a flower bed (make that a weed bed) on the right of the lawn and replanted it with shrubs and flowers, also purchased from the aforementioned garden centre. And let's not forget the window canopy, which was in a right state and in serious need of a coat of paint. I got up on a rickety old step ladder clasping a wire brush and it wasn't long before the canopy was ready for an undercoat. It now awaits a second coat, but that can wait until next weekend.

The pond in the centre of Tatsfield village.

I suppose you could say I've been very busy, running around between garden centres and D.I.Y shops. Technically, I had taken the week off work, but in reality I only had one 'day off' - on Wednesday - when I drove into darkest Sussex for a pub lunch. Because of 'social distancing' and the virus we booked in advance and had to order our food using our mobile phones. It was easy and the food was delicious and we also paid via the phone so there was little in the way of human contact. The other good thing about it was not having to wait for the waiter to deliver the bill or worry about how much of tip we should give (we didn't give any tip, I mean why when there's no real 'service'?). Actually, the meal was good, especially the chicken and leek pie, the mash, the vegetables, the whole lot, but I don't think the phone ordering system offered the opportunity for us to tip electronically. I never carry cash so sadly there was no tip.

To complete my week of gardening I need to order a parasol and I'll do that later on line, then I can go back to work tomorrow safe in the knowledge that I've well and truly 'done my bit'.

St. Mary's church, Tatsfield

Today I initially considered riding solo to the lakes, but in all honesty, by the time I was ready to hit the air it was almost 0800hrs and I realised it would take the best part of almost three hours to complete, possibly less if I didn't stop for tea, but where's the fun in that? So I called Bon, or rather I texted him a single word question: 'cycle?'. And then I set off with my phone on 'loud' so I could hear it if he called back, but he didn't (until I was almost home) so I pressed on towards Warlingham Green and then beyond, riding the 269 to Botley Hill and then heading east on Clarks Lane. Initially I thought I'd ride into Westerham, but then I changed my mind and rode towards St Mary's church in Tatsfield, but not directly. I turned left on Approach Road and went through the village instead, getting in a bit of a pickle when I approached some temporary traffic lights (I was in the wrong gear and the lights were on a hill so I ended up walking and remounting on the other side).

Yours truly in Tatsfield

I passed the entrance to the churchyard and rode down the hill on to Clarks Lane again, turning right and heading up the hill towards Botley and the 269. Later I turned right again into Beech Farm Road and while I kind of considered hanging a left into Washpond Lane, I carried on round and eventually passed St Leonard's church on my right and then Ledgers Road on my left and then I was back at Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turned right and continued down the Limpsfield Road to home. I was pleased to note that I'd almost riden 20 miles. All I need to do now is keep that up for five days and I'll be approaching the magical 100-mile week, but let's not walk before we can run.

Lockdown, Part 16: To Westerham!

Empty roads...

The routine of cycling early in the morning before the sun comes up has gone and won't be returning until the lockdown has ended and Andy and I can cycle again without the worry of social distancing. This means just one thing: later rides. During the week, as avid readers will know, I ride after 5pm normally and head out to Botley Hill where I turn around and cycle back. It's a 14-miler and it takes me about an hour, just over. My weekly mileage since the lockdown began goes like this: 36 miles, 48 miles, 60 miles, 72 miles, 84 miles and by close of play tomorrow 92 miles. Not bad going.

Today I left the house at 1110 and was initially planning to ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard, but as I bombed down Clarks Lane, past the famous Tatsfield Bus Stop, I accelerated as I passed the churchyard turn-off and headed down the hill into Westerham. The reason for this change of plan was the weather: clear skies, a warm breeze and sunshine, three essential ingredients if I'm going to go the extra mile or two. I powered into Westerham and headed straight for the green where there were other cyclists, but everyone was social distancing.

Nobody was sitting at the wooden table behind the statue of General Wolfe so I parked the bike, got out my flask of hot water, tea bag and Cath Kidson mug and made myself at home. A young mum and her daughter were doing cartwheels but everybody else, mainly cyclists, were chilling out, psyching themselves up for the journey home like I was, but mainly relaxing and enjoying the weather. It was odd being there with no shops, cafes or pubs being open, but in a way it was pleasant and I savoured every moment.

General Wolfe's statue in Westerham today

I'm not sure what time it was when I reached Westerham, but as I made to leave I checked my iphone, it was 1227hrs. I took the hill in my stride, stopping once to take a photograph but also to check I didn't have a bee or a wasp in my helmet (the one I wear on my head to protect me if I fall off). I sped along Clarks Lane, turned right at the mini roundabout and then powered my way down the 269. There was very little in the way of traffic. I reached home at 1324hrs, just an hour, which wasn't bad going. When I reached the house I made lunch, sandwiches basically, but good ones: cheese, mushroom, tomato and watercress with a little coleslaw. And then I feel asleep, or rather I kept nodding off in the heat of the 'conservatory'. Eventually I went out into the garden to read a couple of chapters from David Hepworth's Uncommon People (about Brian Wilson and The Who). Next up is Jimi Hendrix.

I could have just sat there all day, but in the end I felt energised enough to mow the lawn. I raked it afterwards, taking off any excess grass and then gave it a once-over with the mower before putting everything back in the garage and heading upstairs for a shave and a shower. Now, after dinner, I'm back in the conservatory writing this. In the background I can hear that Vikings is on. I'm not keen and I've probably said before that I can't be bothered to watch anything if the characters aren't wearing normal clothes, that's why I'm watching Ozark (Season Two) and the X Files.

On the long climb out of Westerham

Outside all is relatively still and quiet. The garden is looking good, or as good as it can look: there's always major work that needs doing in my garden, although I've put in a lot of work out there of late and I'm fairly pleased with the end result.

Nothing much new to report on the virus front. 

Arise, Sir Lawncelot – and ride to Botley!

Despite wonderful weather yesterday I decided not to go cycling. When I switched on my mobile phone I received an 'abort' text from Phil and I already knew that Andy wasn't around this weekend or next. But in all honesty, the reason behind my laziness was simple: the past two weekends I'd been in the USA and I felt that a lie-in was in order – I got out of bed at 0900hrs. Also, there was gardening to do; two weeks without mowing the lawn had left the garden in a bad way so I had to get out there and sort it out – and that meant mowing the lawn.

A freshly mown lawn

It wasn't going to be easy. I'd have to start with a high setting and gradually increase the severity of the cut until the lawn was like a bowling green. It took awhile. In fact it took all day and by the time I'd finished not only was I sporting a healthy-looking tan, the grass was looking wonderful too – call me the Lawn Ranger, call me Sir Lawncelot. I rolled the mower back into the garage around 1730hrs and today (Sunday) I've got the top of the garden to do and I've got to dig out a few weeds in one of the flowerbeds.

There was a certain poignancy to gardening this weekend as Friday last week marked the fourth anniversary of my dad passing away. As mum commented yesterday, it didn't seem that long ago and when I think back to that time, it was very unsettling all round with plenty of job insecurity thrown in for good measure. Still, time moves on and dad is still there in all our memories. At the top of my garden there is small patch of parched grass where, back in April 2011, the month before dad died, I erected a small brick kiln to burn a few leaves. I remember making a small video of the fire to show dad – he loved bonfires and gardening – and then, a few weeks later, he was gone. That worn piece of grass, however, is still there and yesterday it reminded me of four years ago and the last few weeks of dad's time on earth.

My own personal flowerbed – eat your heart out, Monty!

So, as I mowed the lawn yesterday, bringing it down from around 10 inches to little more than an inch, if that, I thought of dad and how he used to say that the garden was a gym and how a day in the garden was the best work-out you'd ever get. He wasn't wrong. I was out there from dawn to dusk, pushing a lawnmower up and down the length of the garden, I was crouching down trimming the edges with a pair of rusty old shears and I was raking the excess grass from the lawn's surface – twice! The end result was fantastic and today, after a little bit more work, I'm going to make a pot of tea and enjoy reading my book – yes, I'm still ploughing through Ayn Rand's mammoth Atlas Shrugged and taking it a day at a time. It's a huge brick of a book that I've been carrying around for weeks and I'm looking forward to the day when I finish it. I'm certainly not going to give up as I hate the idea of not finishing a book.

To Botley Hill alone...
I wasn't going to go cycling today either, but when I awoke at 0605hrs and saw the sun shining through the curtains, I felt I had to give it go. For breakfast I had Weetabix, a banana, a slice of toast and a mug of tea and after dawdling a bit I was out there, without gloves. I headed up Ellenbridge, then turned left into Morley Road and right on to Church Way and soon I was powering along the Limpsfield Road heading for Warlingham Green – where I was going to turnaround and come back as there was no Phil or Andy. Instead, I carried on to Botley Hill, went around the roundabout adjoining Clarks Lane and then headed back down the 269 towards home. It was a good ride. At one stage on the outward journey I considered riding to Westerham. That would have been good as we've yet to ride to Westerham this year and it's almost halfway through.

Sir Lawncelot at Botley Hill, Sunday 17th May 2015

One thing is for certain, the summer is here. The birds are tweeting, the sun is shining and there are leaves on the once bare trees. There's also a pleasant smell in the air, the smell of cut grass and the smell of leaves. Here's to some great rides ahead.

Loads of gardening, but no cycling

My dad used to love gardening. When I lived at home, he tried to encourage me to like it too. In fact, throughout his life he tried to get me into gardening, but he never really succeeded. I used to tease him about it and say things like 'gardening is futile'. Why? he would ask and I'd say something like, well, you weed the beds and you mow the grass, but those weeds just keep coming back. There's an element of King Canute about it, I would say and he would, of course, dismiss my thoughts.

I always talk about keeping fit. Don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of fitness nut. I don't visit the gym or anything inane like that, but I do like cycling. And walking. But dad would always look out onto this garden or mine, depending on where we were whenever we had the conversation, and he would say: "There's your gym. Out there." He would point at the garden and I would get his drift, but still not really believe him. Gardening, I figured, was just too boring. But then so, of course, is 'keeping fit'. Unless you're riding a bike. And by that I mean a proper bike, not an 'exercise bike' or a 'stationary bike'.

Me on a rug about to enjoy some tea.

This weekend, however, I'm beginning to see what he meant about the garden being a kind of green gym. I was out there all weekend, mowing the lawns front and back and cutting back a helluva lot of brambles at the back of the rear garden; and then I started bagging it all up, cutting it first, then shoving it into bags. I filled six of them and there's still another two out there waiting to be packed away. Then, after that, I started turning over a bed near to the house, digging out a few weeds and pulling some roots.

Last night I slept like a log. It was that strange but amazingly enjoyable tiredness that comes from being out in the air all day. A bit like after a long ride. And then, today, some more gardening.

Right now I'm sitting in front of the television, writing this and watching The Road. I've read the book and it's one of those movies where, if you've read the book, there's no point in seeing the movie other than to work out whether it's captured the mood of the book or not. I think the answer is yes, it has captured the mood, because the mood of the book was bleak and the film is bleak too. Although not as bleak as the BAFTAs, which were on BBC 1. What a load of old rubbish. Television comedy that's just not funny, actors wheeled out to say something funny that's on the autocue, but hardly raising a laugh and awards recipients I've never, ever heard of – apart from Rolf Harris. And then, after Rolf, they did a brief run-down of other awards presented, they rushed through them, but they turned out to be the interesting ones. So I switched over and watched The Road – far more light-hearted.

The Road is depressing and I should really go to bed, but I've got to stay up, even though I know how it all ends. Don't worry, it ends on a hopeful note, but I won't spoil it for anybody.

I was going to go for a ride today (Sunday) but I hadn't gotten round to fixing that puncture. The bike's still out there with a flat rear tyre, but I feel as if I've had all the exercise I need.