Last week 70 + miles, this week just over 60 miles...

It's Sunday morning, 1128hrs, 19 September, and outside it's bright and fairly warm as we approach the end of September (alright, there's still just over a week) and the autumn sneaks in, or, as I call it, NoVisibleLycra weather, meaning dull and overcast, the threat of rain, cloudy skies. I've just returned from a ride to Westerham where I met Andy and we enjoyed tea and a chat. Things have moved on somewhat since the days of sitting at the Tatsfield Bus Stop sipping tea from a flask and munching Belvitas. We now visit Costa Coffee where a large English Breakfast tea (in a paper cup) costs £2.10; but it means we don't have to carry stuff unnecessarily, which is a big weight off of my shoulders (quite literally) as I used to carry a huge flask full of hot water, four tea bags and a mug. Now I don't have to, but I still bring the rucksack with me. That said, we've been talking about crossbar bags. I have one that sits on top of the bar, but it gets in the way. I was thinking of buying one that hangs down from underneath the bar. Andy says I can get a slimmer one that fits on top. In all honesty it's not top-of-mind, not yet at any rate. In fact, not much is top-of-mind at present.

The bottom of Hesiers Hill, Saturday 18 September...

As avid readers will already know, I love the Sunday ride. It's good to meet outside (or inside) the Costa in Westerham and enjoy the chat about routes and hills and saddlebags and things that non-cyclists would probably regard as boring. A big topic of conversation is Andy's planned ride to Cornwall to see his sister. He was always going to ride there, but has now decided to ride back too. Why? Because booking the bike on to a return train looks like more trouble than it's worth. If it's anything like booking a seat on a train, it could prove disastrous, ie somebody else's bike in the spot he booked or simply no space left. So, instead of all the grief, Andy's going to ride home. He's allowing three to four days and his first stop on the return journey will be a Premier Inn in Exeter. That's about as far as his return journey planning has got, although it looks likely he'll rely upon Premier Inn, Travelodge and possibly even Days Inn as rest stops as he heads back from Bodmin to Caterham. I have to say that I'm excited for him.

Ledgers Road, 16 September, on the Washpond Weeble ride.

My weekly cycling routine is starting to bed in and it looks (at present at any rate) that I can ride around 72 miles per week on Sunday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I'm not going to entertain the idea of riding after a day at work, it's far too tiring and besides, I can bolster my walking (and possibly even swimming) on the days I don't ride. My new routine appears to be a ride to Westerham (like today), two Washpond Weebles on Thursday and Friday afternoons and then a ride to Westerham (or Knockholt, the Lakes, Dunton Green) on Saturday. The longer I ride on Saturday will determine the total weekly mileage, which has the potential to reach 80 miles. In fact, I need to look back on last October and November's rides to see what I managed and whether I can achieve the same distances this year.

On Beddlestead Lane, 18 September, being overtaken...

On my no cakes or biscuits journey, things have lapsed slightly. Last Sunday I weakened round at mum's, but I've managed not to eat any cakes whilst on the ride, ie no cinnamon brioche buns or toasted tea cakes in Costa, and I've stayed off the chocolate bars completely, although today I had one of those yoghurt-coated 'Natural' bars, which I fear are just as bad. What I have been doing a little too much is eating bread. Today, for example, I've had six slices, starting this morning with two slices of honey on toast for breakfast (around 0630hrs) and then two more on my return from the ride (I figure it's better than a bun or a toasted tea cake), and then, just a second ago (it's now 1708hrs so let's say around 1700) I had a Marmite sandwich, but remember this: I haven't had any lunch so I guess I'm "quids in". However, I'm due to go out to eat tonight so perhaps I should have exerted a little will power (which I don't have where food is concerned.

25 Sept's ride...

I enjoy my weekend rides more than anything, especially the Sunday ride, and it was good seeing Andy this morning. We're going to sort out a curry (with Dave and Geoff) although we're not sure where Dave is: he could be in South Wales, but we're not sure. I plan to call his mobile to find out. Avid readers of this blog will remember Dave, the guy with the Harley. Geoff, of course, is the illustrious illustrator and I'm sure he's been mentioned in the past. We all used to work together, but the importance of the curry (in Whyteleafe) is that, back in 2006 we went there for an evening meal, Andy and I started talking about cycling and decided that over the weekend we would meet and ride to Westerham. It was the start of regular cycling together and we're still at it today.

One week later...

It's now one week later (almost) and I can't say the week behind me has been that good cycling wise. I missed a ride on Thursday and that's why my end-of-week mileage is just over 60 miles, a good 10 under my respectable distance of 70 miles. Today (Saturday 25th September) I left the house at 0730hrs, the earliest I've been out in months, and headed for Westerham in the fog. I rode via Beddlestead Lane and Pilgrims Lane, passing the Velobarn and coasting downhill into town. All the faffing around on country lanes to avoid 269 traffic cost me time. The usual one-hour journey that I take on Sunday to meet Andy turned into one hour and 20 minutes, I arrived in Westerham at 0851 and ordered myself a large English breakfast tea to take out. I sat outside, people watching until 0915 and then headed home again, following the outward route and even riding up Hesiers and then turning left and heading for Washpond Lane, 24.48 miles. Not bad, but as I say, 10 miles under my respectable weekly distance of 70 miles so I'm not overly happy with the situation.

Did I mention my Taliban trousers?

One thing I find absolutely hilarious is people queuing for petrol in their cars. Sailing past the queues on the bike made me feel great, on top of the world, in fact, as I picked up on motorists arguing with one another as they waited in line. It was even funnier when I heard this builder type (huge red head and clearly very impatient) shouting at nobody in particular, just ranting with anger as he waited for the queue to move. And, of course, the queue didn't move. Brilliant! He probably voted Brexit, which made it even funnier. "Bloody Europeans, coming over here and taking all our jobs, driving fuckin' wages down, the cunts! I'm voting for Boris because I believe every word he says and why don't we give the £350 million we give to the EU to the NHS? Good thinking, Boris!" But he was forgetting - he didn't know - that Boris Johnson is an obese buffoon, habitual liar, adulterer and all-round nob cheese, you just have to look at him to see that, what with his master race hair cut, his ill-fitting suits, he's no Churchill, far from it, and now we're all paying for the bigotry of the Brexiteers; and Boris and Grant Shapps have gone to Europe, tails between legs, to see if they can arrange temporary visas for the European workers they told to fuck off. This is brilliant news all round! Here's hoping the Europeans tell us to fuck off!

The great thing about bicycles is that they don't need petrol, just manpower - and they keep you fit. While I can't go out in my car (the tank is virtually empty and I can't afford to be stuck in a petrol queue) I've already been to Westerham on a 24-mile plus ride, enjoyed a large English breakfast tea sitting outside of Costa Coffee and then I rode home. Who needs a car? Not me!

A few words about hills

Just a brief word or two about hills, mainly to say that most of the inclines on my routes - Titsey, Hesiers, Slines Oak Road, even White Lane - are doable, but it hasn't always been the case. Now, after many years of riding and getting fitter by the ride, Andy and I are able to handle all the aforementioned hills, they no long present us with that feeling of trepidation as they approach. Quite the opposite, in fact; I've now started to take them on, ride up Hesiers or Titsey without thinking and slowly but surely get to the top. On Saturday, as I reached the top of Hesiers, somebody said something like, "I bet you're glad that's over!" Or, "It's easier going the other way!" People like to put in a friendly comment, which is great. And I always agree with whatever they're saying and continue on my way. Sometimes, though, I feel like saying, "Actually, you know, it's not too bad," but I fear I might come across as arrogant, when all I'm saying is that I've reached a certain level of fitness and hills no longer frighten me. Well, not the hills that I know at any rate.

To the Tatsfield Bus Stop – heavy fog meant the slow way there and back...

Another mild morning and we met at the green as usual. We headed for the Tatsfield Bus Stop the slow way. Weatherwise everything was damp and wet and glistening and there was a fog looming, hanging in the trees, so we thought the slow way would be safer. There was a few Lycra monkeys on the road, and even more when we headed back along Beddlestead towards Hesiers Hill. This time, as I approached the climb I changed down and managed the gears properly. I stayed in a low gear for the second hill before things levelled out and we headed for the green where we parted.

There's always something musical that keeps me moving along. The other day it was a Christmas carol, the Sans Carol, but today it was Misty Mountain Hop by Led Zeppelin, I know not why. My in-built Walkman kept playing it over and over. "Walking in the park just the other day..."

We reached the green at 0930hrs and I got home 20 minutes later. A good ride.

Boxing Day – fast way to Tatsfield Bus Stop (and the slow way back)...

Drinking tea at the bus stop. Pic: Andy.

Another late start. I leave the house at 0730hrs and head up Church Way. A squirrel scuttles across the road from right to left, runs along the top of a low fence and disappears into the undergrowth. Houses display their festive decorations and soon I find myself riding through the churchyard, past Sanderstead pond and on to the Limpsfield Road. I'm heading for the green where I meet Andy. The weather is fine, no rain, and there's little in the way of traffic so we decide to risk the 269 rather than ride the slow way. "But let's ride the slow way back," I suggest and we agree, even if it does mean Hesiers Hill. At Botley we notice a mist, it's fairly thick so my lights go back on. Soon we reach the bus stop where we chill out, drink tea and I turn down the biscuits for a second day – the problem with Christmas is eating all the wrong food: minced pies, Panettone, Christmas cake, cheeses, crackers, pickled onions (yes, I own a jar of Garner's); it's all going on and besides, I need to stop eating shit. We ride back the slow way, down Beddlestead Lane, and then it's time for Hesiers Hill. Unlike the last time, I change right down and manage to sail along without any issues, getting a few 'well done' comments from passing Lycra monkeys coming down the hill. Andy and I weave our way towards Sainsbury's and then head for the green where we part company. All the way home along the Limpsfield Road I recite the Sans Day Carol, aka the St. Day Carol, but because I haven't sung it for years and years, I get the lyrics wrong. Actually, not badly wrong: "And Mary bore Jesus Christ, our saviour for to be," I sing (fairly quietly), but it's "And Mary she bore Jesus our Saviour for to be." I reach Sanderstead and soon I'm on Church Way again, riding downhill towards Morley, hanging a right on Elmfield, a left into Ellenbridge and a right on to Barnfield. Soon I'm home and soon I find myself on a five-mile walk, which I enjoy. Tomorrow I'm planning an 8-mile walk.

Taking the slow way...

Saturday 22nd December, Tatsfield Bus Stop. Pic by Andy Smith

Saturday 22nd December: It's the day after the shortest day and darkness is on the menu. I leave the house at 0700hrs with my lights on and don't switch them off until I reach the bus stop. We opt for the slow way and it's far warmer than last week when black ice took Andy off his bike. He tells me that it was, after all, pretty painful, blood was drawn, he discovered on returning home and all week there was pain, but he's better now. We take it easy, riding down Hesiers Hill with our hands covering the brakes, slowing us down, it's not safe, but it's not icy either and I'm feeling energised all the way along Beddlestead. Little in the way of Lycra monkeys as we climb the hill, emerging on to Clarks Lane and hanging a left. We freewheel to the bus stop, park up and I serve tea. Andy hands out the BelVita biscuits, but I'm not that hungry, I've already eaten a hearty breakfast. I make do with just one. A bunch of monkeys ride past en route to Westerham as we continue to sip our tea and watch the cars travelling east and west. With Christmas just up the road, it's busier than normal, more cars on the road, plenty of bustle and it gets worse as the day progresses. Well, at least it's not raining. We ride back the slow way, very scenic, amazing how the landscape looks totally different when we turn the road inside out, ride backwards almost, rewind the tape so to speak. I wonder whether it's possible to free wheel all the way to Hesiers Hill, but then I forget to try and start pedalling. The hill is hard, harder because I get muddled with the gears, change up instead of down, lose momentum, end up stopping and find it difficult to get going. I'm on the move again, I don't stop until I reach the top and then we wind our way around the lanes, past St Leonard's church, then another hill, I mess up again, in the wrong gear, a constant problem, but I'll remember next time, perhaps tomorrow, except there is no tomorrow, it's rained off. I'm awake early, around 0430hrs, I lie there, right hand fretfully on forehead, thinking bad thoughts about the day ahead, it's going to be hectic one way or another and all I want to do is nothing, but that's not on the agenda, not today. I hear the rain falling and it doesn't stop. I finally get out of bed at 0600hrs, it's still coming down, I look at the puddle on next door's conservatory roof, stair rods, well, not quite, but it's relentless. "Looks like 'abort' as it's pissing down here," I write and send to Andy. "Yes, fingers crossed for tomorrow," he replies. Later on it is still raining and I am downstairs listening to Green by REM, the ride is off and I try to keep a tally on what day it is, soon I will lose it completely, that's the way it is with Christmas, I lose track of time. "What day is it?" A frequently asked question, but time to start reading Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland, a book that's been hard to find. I like Coupland. I read Generation X, it has a special quality, reminds me of the America I love. Right now I feel slobby. I haven't been on the ride, but today would have been cut short as there's stuff to do, people to give lifts to, jobs to be done, visits to be made and I've got a new coat that I'm excited about wearing, makes me feel like Kurt Russell in The Thing. I've always been a big baby and still am, I can't really grow up, that's my problem. Paddy Ashdown has died, aged 77, after a short illness and I am reminded of the time I met him, on a train, somewhere near Salisbury, a six-pack of Wadworth's 4X, time travel, he had a view, a good man for engaging in a crazy conversation, he didn't ignore us, he got involved, clearly a proper politician, a dying breed, literally in his case.

A word about the weather...

The English are obsessed with the weather. It's a fact. We always bring it up in conversation, as a kind of ice breaker; it's a bit like football talk, and by that I mean that it's not a real conversation, it's there simply to initiate interaction between two or more people.

When English people talk about good weather, 1976 is normally brought up. In essence, it was the last time we had a really amazing summer. Well, 1976 has a rival and it's called 2018. For the last three months there has been nothing but sunshine and there hasn't been any rain. I checked back on the blog and the last time it rained was in April. It gets better. It's not been just a bit of sunshine, it's been a full-on heatwave. Even last Friday, three months in, the papers talked about 'furnace Friday', although, ironically, 'furnace Friday' turned out to be the day the good weather broke up, there were rain storms forecasted.

As I write this it's 0732hrs on Sunday morning and rain and storms are promised. You might be thinking: Why is he writing his blog? Surely he should be out on his bike, heading towards the green to meet Andy. Well, I was in the process of doing that, but the skies were looking decidedly dodgy and then my mobile rang as I prepared to mount the bike. It was Andy saying that it had started raining over in Caterham. "It's spitting here," I said, looking skyward. We decided to call it a day.

"Next week?"
"Yeah, see you next week."

And I rolled the bike back into the garage and now here I sit, typing in the conservatory. Just a second ago I got up and made myself a slice of bread with Marmite – very tasty, but the weather seemed to have improved and I wondered whether Andy had texted me; he hadn't. So I'm back at the desk, Gilmore Girls is on the television and I'm wondering (just wondering) whether to call Bon and head for Woodmansterne or call Andy and say 'let's re-group on this' although rain and stormy weather is forecasted so it's highly likely that any move to head anywhere will result in a soaking – and if there's one thing we like to avoid, it's a soaking.

Last weekend I meet Bon at Woodmansterne Green, twice, Saturday and Sunday, and, as always, we mooched around and chatted about this and that. I'd brought a flask of hot water and some teabags and we sat in the sunshine enjoying the good weather until it was time to head home.

Andy took this shot at the bottom of Hesiers Hill before we headed up the hill

Yesterday, Andy and I met at the Green and headed for the Tatsfield Bus Stop where we too enjoyed tea and BelVita biscuits while chatting about nothing in particular.

Our bikes prior to riding up Hesiers Hill. Note the parched fields...

The weather has changed. A cool breeze has replaced the extreme heat. It was still a really nice day yesterday. We'd ridden to the bus stop the slow way and we retraced our steps back along Beddlestead Lane towards Hesiers Hill on the way home. We rode up the hill and for the first time in ages I found I was using my gears properly. I'd changed down into the lowest possible gear as I rode along Beddlestead, which meant that I didn't faff around at the foot of the hill and rode up with relative ease, stopping at the top and chatting briefly with Andy before we both followed the country lanes round to Warlingham. We parted at the green. Andy rode to Caterham and I followed the Limpsfield Road to Sanderstead, sailing down Church Way, hanging a right on Morley, a left on Southcote and a right on Ellenbridge.

Parched fields at the bottom of Hesiers Hill

The good weather hasn't left the building, that's the important thing. It's going to hot up during the week and will reach 29 degrees C mid-week. But we've had temperatures in the high 30s. It is, quite simply, a rival to 1976 and might possibly beat it, but not if today is anything to go by; it's cold outside, and blustery too.

Not that anybody takes any notice...

We're riding again next week unless I pluck up the courage to go out later, which I might. Things have brightened up... or perhaps they haven't. I was in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs, and it was dull and raining so I've come back to the computer to say so. In fact, I can hear the rain on the conservatory roof. We'd have been soaked through and cold had we gone out, so I'm really glad we stayed in.

Wonderful weather, wonderful rides...

Last weekend the weather was perfect so we had two excellent rides, one to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (the slow way there and back); and another ride to Tandridge, a destination we haven't visited for many years.

On Saturday the slow way to the bus stop seemed like a good idea, and because the weather was fine, we ambled along at our own pace, stopping, like last week, to admire the red poppies in the field along Beddlestead Lane. Their colour and number were more intense than last week, prompting us, once again, to get off the bikes and try to take a decent photograph. We really needed to get into the field, but there's a ditch and then a load of thistles so we didn't bother. Instead, we got back on the bikes and chatted as we rode along, occasionally making room for noisy Lycra monkeys.

Instead of BelVita biscuits I enjoyed a banana. I'm trying to give up biscuits and believe me, it's harder than giving up smoking or drinking, but I didn't weaken and after a couple of peppermint teas (I fancied a change) we jumped on the bikes and headed home, going back the way we came and being forced to climb Hesiers Hill in the process. Andy's about to embark upon some kind of hill climb challenge, so the more hills, the better. Hesiers is quite an ordeal, but as long as you're in the right gear (a very low one) then it's simply a case of head down and get on with it.

Church in Tandridge, Surrey – perfect!

We got home at a reasonable hour and there was plenty of work to do in the garden, which is fine on a decent day. I mowed the lawn front and back and spent a lot of time sitting under the umbrella drinking tea – a perfect way to spend a Saturday.

On Sunday we could have quite easily repeated Saturday's ride, but sometimes the thought of Beddlestead Lane makes us yearn for something different. We talked about riding to Oxted, which would have involved the infamous Titsey Hill or going to Flowers Farm in Godstone or even Godstone itself, but I remembered that there was some kind of weekend concert going on at the farm – Godstonebury (geddit? Glastonbury? Godstonebury?) – so we headed instead for a place called Tandridge, which meant following the route for Godstone, down Gangers Lane, but branching off left and taking a steep downhill run (14%) until we crossed over the M25 and then found ourselves on the A25, turning right and then first left on to Jackass Lane.

Prior to reaching the A25, we rode along the winding country lanes, the birds twittering in the trees and the sound of our mountain bike tyres on the tarmac being the only noises breaking the silence of the early morning, a deer crossed the road right in front of us; it was one of those moments to cherish: a wild deer prancing gracefully across the road and into the woods on the other side. Andy managed to capture the moment on his Go-Pro camera, which was great.

We followed the road down to a small green and then turned left and found a church. I can't remember the name of the church, but we found a bench in the churchyard and out came the tea and biscuits. This time I weakened, but with a massive hill ahead of me on the return ride, they were sorely needed.

It was a real Daily Mail, Midsomer Murders sort of place with plenty of well-to-do and filthy rich old people coming out of the church and bidding us a good morning. The thought of the hill delayed our departure, but soon we were on our way, psyching ourselves for the climb to come. And while it wasn't easy, it wasn't difficult either and soon we found ourselves on the country lanes close to Marden Woods and heading towards the Ridge and then Woldingham. We parted at the top of Sline's Oak Road, Andy heading for Caterham, me riding down to Butlers Dene Road where I turned left and then right on to a short gravel track followed by a left back on to Sline's Oak Road. The last hill was the last few yards of Sline's Oak Road, the bit where it joins the 269, where I turned left and headed through Warlingham, along the Limpsfield Road and home.

I arrived home around 1020hrs, put the bike in the garage and got on with the day, which meant more sitting in the garden under the umbrella in the summer sunshine. It was too hot to do any gardening so I simply chilled out and enjoyed the rest of my weekend.

To Tatsfield Village via Beddlestead Lane...

Sometimes I wake up and wonder what the hell I'm doing getting out of bed at an ungodly hour and making breakfast. Fine during the week when there's work to be done, but at the weekend? I should be lying in, getting up around 0800hrs, if not later, having a leisurely breakfast and then slobbing for the rest of the day. Well, where's the fun in that?

This morning, though, I felt a little weary, but it was sleepiness, nothing else, and by the time I'd put the kettle on I was feeling good and looking forward to the ride.

Outside it was wet. Peering out of the window prior to padding downstairs to the kitchen I noticed that there was a large puddle on next door's conservatory roof. The skies were grey and there was a fair-to-middling chance that it would rain. Andy later told me that it did rain over in Caterham, but he pressed ahead and sure enough he was on the green waiting for me when I arrived later than expected. I won't bore you with the details.

Mist heading our way along Beddlestead Lane. Pic: Andy Smith

I aborted on Saturday and I wished I hadn't. The plan had been to ride to Godstone Farm Shop, where they make a decent cup of tea and offer a fine range of home-made cakes. We have steered clear of this place for one good reason: the steep hill on the return journey. It used to be a problem because there was always something wrong with my old bike's gears. But now that I've got a new bike it doesn't matter. There's something great about eating cake after riding a bike, but then again, there's something about drinking beer after riding a bike too or eating an unhealthy breakfast.

There were puddles everywhere as we rode towards the mini roundabout beyond Warlingham Sainsbury's. We turned left and followed the country lanes towards Hesiers Hill and then endured the slow burn of Beddlestead Lane, occasionally overtaken by well-spoken Lycra monkeys.

Halfway along we watched as the mist rolled in from Clarks Lane. It looked so good we stopped and Andy took the photograph that accompanies this blog post. We kept moving, reaching the T-junction with Clarks Lane, turning left and heading towards the Tatsfield Bus Stop, which still lacks seating.

We turned left on to Approach Road and rolled into the village where we broke out the tea and biscuits and discussed various things, such as a £15,000 electric bike from Audi that doesn't need a padlock. I can't remember the details, but Andy said something about refrigerated lorries and how , GPS would be undetectable should a bike thief decide to use one to nick the bike.

The subject of fake news came up too. My view is that a free press is part of a Western democracy, it's part of the system, like an independent judiciary and the House of Lords. So why does Donald Trump want to diss the system? Why does he want everybody thinking that the media is lying and that only he is telling the truth? And why is everybody so fucking gullible? One of the best pieces of stand-up comedy I've ever heard is Frankie Boyle's "It's the fucking banks!" sketch. Inspired.

He starts off saying that when he was a kid he used to watch Columbo and that all episodes followed the same format: the murderer was revealed at the beginning, before the pre-credits, and then the rest of the programme was about how Columbo reveals how and why the murderer committed the crime. Boyle watched the programme with his nan and despite the fact that the murderer had been revealed at the beginning, she still says, "I think she did it." A frustrated Boyle would then say, "No, nan, it wasn't her, it was HIM!!!! You saw who committed the crime at the beginning!"

For Boyle, the current situation in the UK – where everything is blamed on immigration – is similar to an episode of Columbo except that the 'murderer' is the banks. The current state we're all in is nothing to do with immigrants, it was the FUCKING BANKS!!!! The FUCKING BANKS!!! Why can't anybody see that? Is the entire population of the UK just like Boyle's nan watching an episode of Columbo?

We discussed the arrogance of Tony Blair and debated whether or not he was a war criminal and then mounted our bikes and headed for home.

The snow drops were out and the daffodils are on the way. The mornings are getting lighter and soon the clocks go forward, but neither Andy nor I have forgotten that it once snowed in April.

We rode North on the 269 – the fog having lifted – and from certain vantage points we were offered a fleeting glimpse of London from West the East. In the West the shimmering whiteness of Saint Helier Hospital bathed in sunlight and then, panning east, the Shard and then Canary Wharf. It was soon obscured by trees as we descended from the hill and found ourselves back in Warlingham at the mini roundabout next to Sainsbury's.

We parted on the Green. I'd be riding alone next Saturday and I'm wondering where to go. An 'urban ride' to mum's? Possibly. A solo run to Redhill? Could be! But we'll see what the weather has in store.

The beavers are splitting and the pub's boarded up...

It was my first ride since, well, you know, the crash, and I'll admit to being extra wary on the roads. So much so that while dawdling around (on the wrong side of the road) near St. Leonard's church, I almost came face-to-face with the front end of a Lycra monkey's bicycle. Fortunately, we both saw the potential calamity and I switched back to the left side of the road, reprimanding myself for allowing such an incident to raise its ugly head.

Rockhopper 29 Sport, Tatsfield. Photo: Andy Smith.

After that I kept to the left hand side of the road, went down Hesiers Hill with my brakes depressed and generally kept an eye out for anything untoward. It's amazing how dangerous cycling really is; and how important it is to keep alert at all times, something, I'll admit, I never really bothered about. But that's me all over, drifting through life without any real cares about anything, hoping instead (and believing) that all is well with the world and what could possibly happen? Well, a lot can happen and when you're riding along on two wheels, it's extremely important to remain vigilant. I'll admit it cramped my style a little bit. I like a chat and a bit of messing around and when I had the old Scrap on the road I tended to ride it as if I was on a North London housing estate, humping it up pavements, taking wide, sweeping turns...but let's not go there.

Except we did go there. We decided to ride to the Tatsfield Village, scene of my downfall, and as we approached I shuddered as I remembered. I thought it best not to indulge in the infamous sweeping turn, especially on my new Rockhopper Sport 29, a brand spanking new mountain bike, far more sturdy than the old Crosstrail and, let's be frank, far more my cup of tea.

The Rockhopper Sport 29
The new Rockhopper – a straight exchange for the Crosstrail – has 27 gears, just the sort of range I need. It has wide bars and chunky tyres and the Specialized name emblazoned on the frame in a flaming, twirling red. The wide bars are good. Hell, the whole bike is good. It made easy work of Beddlestead Lane and I felt far more comfortable than I did on the Crosstrail.

I picked up the new bike last Saturday from Evans in Gatwick. I'd spent the entire day in and around the airport, having taken the train there fairly early in the morning. I dropped off the Crosstrail, chose a replacement bike – the Rockhopper – and then ambled back along the A23 to the Costa Coffee in the South Terminal's arrivals area. I bought a copy of last Saturday's Guardian, a cup of tea and a chocolate chip cookie and revelled in the joy of the moment: an airport, a coffee shop, a newspaper and, of course, a cup of tea and a cookie. But like most things, it was short-lived – and there was no flying involved. Cookies go and come, but earth abides, I thought, remembering George R. Stewart's book.

When the cookie was spent and the tea cup empty I checked out the magazines at WH Smith and read an article about Slade's bassist, Jim Lea. He joined Slade before it was called Slade and was a bassist through and through, having played the violin from a very young age. I've always harboured bass guitarist ambitions, mainly because I played the violin while at school and figured the four strings of the bass guitar (EADG) would be relatively easy for me to pick up. But like a lot of things, I'll never get around to it.

Soon it was time to walk back to Evans, pick up the Rockhopper, ride it back to the airport, jump on a train and ride home from the station. Rain stopped any riding on Sunday and today was the first time on the new bike. When I met Andy at the green he thought I'd put some transfers on the old Crosstrail, but I explained all as we headed towards Tatsfield Village, the slow way.

Splitting beavers and boarded up pubs...
Earlier this month, Andy told me how Beaver Water World had been evicted from its premises in Tatsfield. This week, we discovered that the Old Ship was 'to let'. I was amazed to discover that one of the pub's former leaseholders was a Mrs Gandalf. What would happen to the pub? Would new tenants (or lessees) take it over? Will it be transformed into a Morrison's or a Tesco Express? Let's hope not.

We ate our biscuits and drank our tea and discussed Gordon Brown and pensions and working into our old age in a DIY store or a supermarket. "We'll need places like Tesco Express," said Andy, as I rinsed out my cup and disposed of the teabags in the waste bin.

We rode home the slow way along Beddlestead Lane, determined to avoid the thick fog at Botley Hill that would no doubt force us off road along the 269. Fine, but it meant riding up Hesiers Hill. Fortunately, the Rockhopper's 27 gears served me well and soon I reached the top where Andy was waiting. My left knee pains slightly on uphill runs, so I'm afraid I was a little slow, but I didn't dismount, and that's crucial. We weaved our way around the narrow country lanes towards Warlingham, retracing our route past St. Leonard's Church, and then picked up the Limpsfield Road to the green where we parted company. I headed towards Sanderstead, Andy towards Caterham.

As I rode down Church Way I had a go at 'no hands', but then thought better of it. I also thought twice about taking the left and right turn from Elmfield into Southcote and then Ellenbridge at speed. Instead I rode at a gentle pace and arrived home in one piece.

My left foot...

Late February 2012 was the last time I recorded there being anything wrong with my left foot and if there is any kind of pattern developing (assuming that cycling and the state of my foot are in some way linked) then it has to be steep hills and possibly pushing things a little too far. Back in 2012 Andy and I rode to Limpsfield village following an off-road route through the Titsey Estate. On the return journey we had no choice other than to ride up Titsey Hill to reach the plateau and Botley Hill Farmhouse. The following day I was in the same state I found myself in last Monday – unable to walk. In a nutshell all of this week I've been hobbling around. It started Monday and got progressively worse as the week progressed. It was so bad that I was quite literally dragging my left leg behind me and it took me an inordinate amount of time to get anywhere. Fortunately my wife picked me up each night from Purley station, saving me the agony of the longish walk home. I say 'longish' because any walk, be it a short stroll to the local shops, is like trekking across the Himalayas. It wasn't pleasant and night times were just as bad as a dull, mildly throbbing ache meant that it was difficult to get to sleep. I resorted to Nurofen but was clearly not taking enough. In fact, I ought to relate my Nurofen story. In essence, all we had in the house were Nurofen melts, which, for some reason, didn't really appeal. Now you might say that if I was desperate, surely any port in a storm and all that, but for some reason I wanted basic Nurofen. So, at 0200hrs, I hopped out of bed – and by 'hopped' I mean I hopped out of bed on my right leg, wary that as soon as I put any kind of pressure on my left foot I'd be in total agony. I couldn't even put a shoe or trainer on without shrieking with pain. Suddenly the peace of the night was shattered. Arrrrgggggggggggggggghhhh! In the end I resorted to wearing my slippers.

At the foot of Hesiers Hill – perhaps I was over enthusiastic.

This shot was taken in the summertime.

Outside it was cold and quiet and the halogen street lights created a kind of lunar landscape in a suburban setting. I limped to the car, jumped in and drove off, passing a couple of gas stations and pulling in to their deserted, brightly-lit forecourts to see if they were open. It was hard to tell and the last thing I wanted to do was get out of the car and try walking if there was no point. The pumps were on; I could clearly see the digital read-outs of the meters, the forecourt was ablaze with light but there didn't appear to be anybody in the shop. I drove out and later found another gas station equally deserted. There was only one thing for it: the 24-hour Tesco in Purley – which, in all honesty, was where I was heading anyway. The huge car park there was virtually empty so I drove to the nearest parking space next to the store and then limped off in the direction of the shop floor. Fortunately I was directed to a small counter selling Nurofen Express, which I figured were good enough (although why 'brand extensions' exist I'll never know). There were no cashiers, just self-service machines, which required me to limp for a few yards more to pay. Clasping my much needed drugs I limped to the car, drove home, took some Nurofen and went to bed. It was around 0300hrs before I fell asleep, possibly later.

The week was characterised by limping everywhere and by Wednesday I figured a trip to the doctor's was in order so I booked up and found myself waiting almost an hour in the surgery's waiting room. GPs tend to be pretty useless as they don't really know what's wrong with anyone, they simply ask a few questions and then suggest that it might be X or Y and that anti-inflammatories are the best bet to start with. "Come back if you've still got it next week," she said and I limped away.

The last time this happened (back in February 2012) I went to a doctor in Croydon, at May Day hospital, and asked them if they thought it might be gout. I was told no, not gout. If it was gout, she said, I wouldn't be able to touch it. Phew! But this time round the subject raised its ugly head again mainly because, over the Christmas period, I had stuffed my face with tangerines and oranges and other acidic fruits. I wished I hadn't mentioned it because it led to the doctor saying that perhaps I should consider a blood test. I hate blood tests. But she said it wasn't necessary so I haven't bothered. What she did say was 'no cycling', not this weekend at any rate, so I resolved not to go. Andy wasn't going on Saturday and, as it turns out, the rain was falling on Sunday, which meant it was likely that we would have aborted anyway. It was one of those damp mornings when everything had that wet look and the back lawn in particular took on a sponge-like appearance.

Fortunately, my foot is now better. I can walk virtually normally and I'm no longer in pain. There's nothing worse than being out of action for health reasons – in this case a dodgy left foot. It makes you realise the importance of good health at all times.

It also makes me realise how lucky I am to be able-bodied and how these things shouldn't be taken for granted. I'm levelling the blame for my left foot at Hesiers Hill on last Sunday's ride and, perhaps, I was overdoing it a bit. To be honest, I don't know the real cause, but that's the only thing I can attribute it to. Fortunately for me, it's over now. I'm feeling better, I'm not limping, I'm not in pain and I'll be back on the bike next weekend – weather permitting.

Botley Hill and a slow ride to Tatsfield Bus Stop via Hesiers Hill

I could say it's too hot to ride a bike and most people would probably agree, although, if you go out early enough – say 0630hrs – then it's very pleasant. The heat woke me early – at 0530hrs – so I made some tea and literally pottered around until it was time to meet Phil.

On the road towards St Leonard's Church.

Saturdays are always Botley Hill during term time so off we went laden with tea and chocolate bars. Little to report about the ride other than the weather was amazing and I had a bad dose of hay fever. This weekend has been the worst ever, in my opinion.

After the usual things we do on a Saturday morning, we headed for mum's for lunch and to watch Bartoli beat Lisicki in the Wimbledon women's final. Not a very inspiring match, but at least it's not the usual suspects. In fact, most of the usual players have been knocked out. Lisicki knocked out Serena Williams so why she didn't make an effort in the final is anybody's guess.

After an evening of streaming eyes and a sniffling nose, I went to bed early and awoke early again (at 0530hrs) except this time I'd be going cycling alone. Andy was on holiday and Phil had attended a 50th birthday party so it was a case of self-motivation. But when the weather's hot and sunny, who needs motivation? At 0705 I left the house, having called my brother to see if he fancied meeting at Woodmansterne Green. No answer so I decided to head for the Tatsfield Bus Stop via Hesiers Hill, a tranquil and picturesque route.

More rays of sunshine.

I passed Warlingham Green and headed for Sainsbury's before hanging a left at the roundabout and following the road down to the village of Chelsham where I turned right, passed the Bull public house on my left and continued along the road, past Scotshall Lane towards St Leonard's Church.

On the way I saw a deer running parallel with the bike before crossing the road ahead of me, plus a few rabbits. Rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, the birds chirped away and there was the occasional rustle in the woods. I stopped a few times to take shots of sun rays through the trees and sunny fields and a shot of myself at the bottom of Hesiers Hill and then made steady progress along Beddlestead Lane towards Clarks Lane where I turned left and cycled to the Tatsfield Bus Stop.

Fields along Beddlestead Lane heading towards the bus stop.

Having not been to the bus stop for a while, I enjoyed sitting there, albeit alone, sipping tea and eating a chocolate bar that Phil had given me yesterday morning (I think it was meant for Andy, but hey, he's on holiday and there's nowt better than tea and chocolate, especially sitting in the sunshine at the Tatsfield Bus Stop.

I debated cycling back the way I'd came, but the thought of riding up Hesiers Hill in the hot sun put me off. Instead, I headed for Botley Hill, leaving the bus stop at 0855hrs and reaching Sanderstead Village 30 minutes later.

When I reached home I enjoyed a hearty breakfast of bread and marmalade, Shredded Wheat and a boiled egg with fingers, not forgetting a mug of tea and a bowl of raspberry yoghurt. Lovely! A little bit of gardening followed and then a can of Stella Artois. I fancy another one so I'd better say goodbye.

Yours truly at the bottom of Hesiers Hill – pure tranquility!

Reverse Cycology and losing our bearings

Corn field near the Tatsfield bus stop, 15 August 2010.

When I woke up around 5am this morning and looked out of the window, I felt considerably disheartened by the heavy mist hanging over the woods. In fact, the woods were invisible, completely concealed by mist and everything outside had that damp appearance. It had been raining, obviously, and judging by the colour of the sky – a menacing dark grey – it was about to rain again.

Andy outside Tatsfield Village, 15 August 2010.

Forever the optimist, I went back to bed, but with only around half an hour before the alarm on my mobile would ring out, I figured it might be best to simply get up, go downstairs, make some tea and watch the bird bath for signs of droplets of rain. That, of course, would then prompt me to text Andy with one word: abort! It wasn't something I wanted to do as Andy hadn't been cycling for a while (well, he didn't go last week or yesterday and I hadn't exactly been that self-motivated, especially if there was a likelihood of getting soaked).

Norheads Lane where it joins Beddlestead Lane – an off-road

route to Biggin Hill.

Anyway, as the clock moved around towards 7am, the weather seemed roughly the same and Andy and I had decided to go for it, meeting on the Green at the old time of 0730hrs. The plan was to ride to the Tatsfield bus stop, the fast way, on the basis that a quick cycle was best in these conditions if a soaking was going to be avoided.

Where Beddlestead Lane and Tatsfield Approach Rd join 

Clarks Lane. The famous Tatsfield Bus Stop is on the right at

the top of TatsfieldApproach Road, diagonally across from

White Lane on the other side of the road.

Fortunately, there was no rain and we decided to go to the Tatsfield bus stop by reversing the route and going the other way down Hesiers Hill, up Beddlestead Lane and then hanging a left on Clarks Lane towards the bus stop. This proved to be quite a work-out, especially coming up Beddlestead Lane, which is a long climb towards Clark's Lane, but we reached the bus stop, knackered but fine and looking forward to our tea and cereal bar.

The route was good: we rode up the Limpsfield Road as usual, then up past Knight's Garden Centre, but turned left into Ledgers Road and then right into Washpond Lane, left on to a stretch of Chelsham Court Road and then right into Hesiers Hill where we picked up considerable speed as the road turned into Beddlestead Lane. We turned left on to Clarks Lane and stopped at the bus stop on the corner of the Tatsfield Approach Road.

For our return journey we decided to go into Tatsfield to investigate a series of 'café' signs we'd seen on earlier rides; we figured the caff was somewhere in the village. It turned out to be inside Reptile World – on my map it's called Beaver Water World (see post above this one), although they could be different places altogether. Either way, it was open early on a Sunday morning and might well be a reason not to carry a flask on a future ride this way.

Going into Tatsfield and finding a way back home has been a problem in the past, long before I started this blog, and it proved to be one this time too, although, as Andy pointed out, we'd found yet another new route so our pioneering days were far from over!

We followed Lusted Hall Lane into Biggin Hill, turning left into Sunningvale Avenue and then left again into Norheads Lane, which proved to be a pig of a hill surrounded by suburban housing. However, Norheads Lane proved to be an interesting place as it opened out into cornfields and gave us a nice bit of off-road riding until we found ourselves back on the Beddlestead Lane and confused as to which way to go. After faffing around with our SatNav on the iphones, we decided to turn right, went up Hesiers Hill the other way and then home the via Church Lane, emerging at the roundabout just beyond Warlingham Sainsbury's.

We escaped a soaking too. In fact, the weather turned out to be nice and pleasant and fairly hot. The bikes were both fine too, although I remarked to Andy that I'd found an amazing bike shop near Penrith during the week (Penrith is in the Lake District in Cumbria). The shop was in Cockermouth (where they had the floods last November) and it sold Ghost bikes, which are amazing-looking machines made in Germany. There were no prices on display, but I reckon they were on the expensive side. Mind you, the Lake District is a good place for mountain biking and I'd imagine that is why such a top-of-the-range bike shop resides in a remote place like Cockermouth. Put it this way, Penrith is the nearest railway station and that was £70 taxi ride away. Was I ripped off? Possibly, but I don't think so as the journey was metered.

Cockermouth's a great place, actually; right in the middle of the Lake District for a start, but also home to Jenning's Brewery where they brew some excellent cask ales. Click here for more details.

For more details on Cockermouth, click here.

For information on the Cockermouth floods, click here .

The Allerdale Court Hotel in Cockermouth is excellent. Click here for more details .