New Year's Eve ride

There's no fixed event, we don't have a New Year's Ride on our agenda and never have, but sometimes New Year's Eve falls on a day when we're riding so, by default, that ride becomes a New Year's Eve ride. On this occasion, we weren't really planning to ride on New Year's Eve, Andy had suggested we ride earlier in the week, I think it was Monday he was suggesting, but I said something along the lines of "I was thinking of Wednesday", which just so happened to be New Year's Eve. 

Clear skies...

The temperatures have plummeted of late so Andy suggested meeting at 1030hrs and I agreed, we didn't want to risk icy roads and accidents. I left around 0930, feeling over-confident that I would easily reach Esquire's Coffee within the hour based on my performance on Boxing Day. It was cold, but not as cold as it looked even if the weather app on my phone was saying 'feels like zero degrees' or whatever it said. I pushed up Church Way, the only real hill on the outward ride, and soon found myself on the 269 heading for Botley Hill and beyond. 

Half way down Clarks Lane the road was closed and a detour in place and then there was a short burst along Pilgrim's Lane before rejoining Clarks Lane and heading into Westerham. Andy was already there and it was fairly crowded. I took a seat, ordered a tea and then we found ourselves talking about 'third places', the idea being that we have home and work and then a third place where we chill and read and talk and do whatever. For a lot of people, the pub is their third place, but for me, my third place will always be a coffee shop or caff, Andy's the same. The whole notion of a 'third place' was to do with the development of the coffee retailing chain Starbucks, which started life in Pike Street Market in Seattle (I've been there a couple of times and, as you might expect, it looks different from the Starbucks we all know and love). In fact, I was in Starbucks in Oxted the day before yesterday and that looks like a good 'third place' to me, but having said that so does Caffe Nero just up the road, and Coughlan's across the street. Third places can be anywhere and depend entirely on individual tastes. In other words, the third place, be it a coffee shop, a leisure centre cafeteria or a pub is subjective. I wonder if there are any coffee shops called The Third Place anywhere in the world (I'll check it out on Google).

On Pilgrims Lane just outside of Westerham...

A friend of Andy's from his cycling club arrived and said hello and suddenly the place was packed. Next to us were mums with their kids playing cards, in other parts of the store there were groups of friends and families and Esquires did a good job in catering for them all.

There are many good things about Esquires Coffee in Westerham (remember, this is a franchised concept so each one is liable to be slightly different from the next one and so on). The space is large and airy (more so when it's half empty) and the vibe is good, the place has warmth and, I hasten to add, a plentiful range of cakes, cookies and savoury items and, for Andy, they cater for vegans too. I noticed a few vegan sausage rolls, but also a load of bacon sandwiches, millionaires shortbreads, the usual stuff you expect to find plus sandwiches, everything you might need.

We stayed for a couple of cups of tea and then, realising that I had no urgent need to return home, I stayed on and read Uncommon Danger, the last of the Penguin Modern Classics range of Eric Ambler novels. One chapter in and I already know that it's going to be good. I've just finished reading The Absence by Peter Clark aka Budgie, the drummer from the Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Creatures. I thought I was going to struggle with it at first until I got around a third of the way through and then I found it enlightening; it was all about Budgie's loss of his mother when he was a child and how her absence had a knock-on effect on virtually everything in his life, including his relationship with Siouxsie who, incidentally, lost her father to alcoholism when she was young. You might have thought they would be kindred spirits (and on some level probably were) but they eventually divorced and Peter later remarried and moved to Berlin where he lives with cats and dogs, his wife and children. In a sense, all's well that ends well, but I'm sure Peter might say that's not how it is, who knows. I'd imagine that losing a parent early on in life has life-long consequences. He was born in the same year as me so we probably share a few things about life even if it's as low brow as Parma Violets, Sherbert Fountains and Whacky Races.

Pilgrims Lane, nobody around!

I left Esquires around 1230hrs and moseyed on back home, then I drove to Waitrose to buy chicken and rolls and stuff for lunch. I always end up spending a small fortune in Waitrose. Later I tucked in to a vegetable samosa and a chicken and mustard roll as we lurched towards the boredom of Hootenanny and awful people long past their sell-by date, like Sir Lenny Henry. I switched channels constantly, watching snippets of Jaws 2, glimpses of Ronan Keating (I couldn't really take any more than a second of it) and then back to Hootenanny, which, ultimately, is rubbish. I'm fed up with Jools Holland, he's kind of past it (as is Ronan Keating, the 'family favourite'). They're both 'safe pairs of hands' and in Ronan's case, he's a very sensible man, a grown-up and the last thing we need on New Year's Eve are 'the grown-ups'! We need another musical revolution like in 1977 when the Sex Pistols arrived on the scene and shook things up a little. 

What's really annoying about new year shows is that they're not live so when you see Jools or Ronan or whoever it might be bringing in the new year, you know that it's probably recorded just before or immediately after Christmas (during Crimbo Limbo). So I can't take it seriously when he's wishing people a happy new year or when people are embracing one another as the new year beds in...because I know it's all lies.

The fireworks roared and rumbled for all of 10 minutes and then stopped, normally they tend to go on all night (or most of it) but not this year. There were calls for unity and togetherness but I sensed politics at play and wanted none of it.

New Year's Eve ride to Tatsfield Village...

The weather app says 12 degrees, which is reasonably warm for this time of year, but what about that wind? It's not warm, I can tell you, it's cold and it went right through me as I pedalled along the 269 early on New Year's Eve. I left the house around 0813hrs and reached there about an hour later. The skies were dark and grey and yes, I did think about a possible downfall, but I didn't think too hard, mainly because there were encouraging signs in the skies above: breaks in the cloud, sunshine and potentially clearer skies. There had been overnight rain, I discovered, once I'd passed Sainsbury's in Warlingham and found myself on the more rural bit of the 269 that would take me all the way to Botley Hill and beyond. Roadside puddles were like black treacle, forcing me to take to the off-road path for a short while rather than risk straying into the middle of the road and being hit by a car. The wind was unpleasant, especially when I rode along Approach Road towards Tatsfield Village, but it wasn't long before I reached Sheree's and she knew my order. "Pot of tea?" I said yes and paid up. Andy had already ordered his latte and he had a few Biscoff biscuits in some silver foil, three for me, three for Andy, and a great snack it has to be said.

Library shot of Sheree's in Tatsfield village...

We chatted about Christmas and falling asleep in front of the television and then we moved on to talk about medical procedures, remembering Andy's hospital experiences when he broke his hip after coming off the bike earlier in the year. Was it this year or last? Catheters were mentioned and clearly overheard by Ken who came over to tell us all about his, not that we really wanted to know, and then he kept on talking about this and that ailment, eventually telling us that he was 82 years old and how he kept fit by walking, with professional-looking sticks he'd left outside. He was a nice guy and a regular at Sheree's, but I hope that doesn't mean we have to talk about end-of-life ailments every time we go in there; let's hope not.

I'll be honest. I don't want to hear about illness and poor health and catheters and the pointlessness of the human condition, or Mortimer and Whitehouse going on and on about it on television. Why talk it all up? I just don't want to. I'm not ready to be an old man just yet. I'm not old! I ride a bike, I walk a lot, I'm still working (and I love it) and I just don't want to hear anything negative or depressing. I used to like watching Mortimer and Whitehouse's Gone Fishing until I realised that eventually they will start whingeing about their aches and pains and ailments. I don't want to hear about 'your bad knees' or how you can't do this or that anymore, I don't want to hear it. I can't be bothered with it anymore, it's not funny, it's depressing, and it's made a lot worse at this time of year when it seems to me as if the grim reaper is working over time, killing off various celebrities so we all have to put up with 'people we lost in 2023'. I think I mentioned that bit in a previous post, but it seems to be inescapable at present, what with Mortimer and Whitehouse - yes, that's the third time I've mentioned them since I started writing this paragraph, and Ken at Sheree's. Andy and I have had our fill of it, it has to be said, and to be fair to us both, we never mentioned our own personal tragedies today (for mine, click here) In fact, I made a point of steering clear of the subject and I think Andy was doing the same. Perhaps our chat about catheters was ill-advised, not that we were to know that Ken would come over and expand on the conversation. I got the feeling we might have been there all morning, but Andy visited the bathroom, which set the ball in motion for us to start preparing to leave. I stood up, Andy returned and we headed for home. We're now on first name terms with Sheree. Andy introduced himself and so did I so it's all good. I couldn't tell you the names of anybody at the Costa in Westerham.

Taking shelter from a downpour...

A few hundred yards into the ride and it started to rain. As I reached the covered Tatsfield Bus Stop it was getting fairly heavy. So heavy that I decided to take shelter there, it was like old times minus Andy and the flask of tea. The rain and the wind combined and what was initially vertical rain became almost horizontal, forcing me to sit on the back rest of the bench and lean back against the rear wall of the shelter. I was there for around 20 minutes, watching the rain fall and fall and fall and then suddenly the sun came out and the rain stopped so off I went. While it did start again, it wasn't that heavy so I put up with it, deciding to take the off-road path rather than get drenched at close quarters by the passing cars. But I was mistaken if I thought I'd keep dry on the off-road path. Oh no, I got drenched by passing cars as they whizzed past, kicking up a shed load of spray. I might as well have asked somebody to throw a bucket of water at me at regular intervals. Even though I was a considerable distance from the cars, the water thrown up was like a wave and it hit me square on the side of my face every time. I wasn't safe until I reached Warlingham Sainsbury's and rejoined the road.

The bike sheltering from the rain...

I can't remember exactly what time I reached home, but as soon as I did I stripped off my wet clothes and made myself some marmalade on toast, just what the doctor ordered. The plan is to ride tomorrow, weather permitting, and visit Sheree's again. We like Sheree's because Sheree herself is an excellent person who brings that much-needed personal touch and some much-needed happiness. All of a sudden, Sheree's has become our go to venue for a weekend ride. Alright, it's not as far as Westerham in terms of fitness, but it's a pleasant experience and that's what it's all about at the end of the day, being relaxed, chilled and happy.

I've got a fish finger sandwich on the way and I can't wait, then it's another night of sitting in front of the television until I feel tired enough to hit the sack. Knowing me I'll probably watch Jools Holland, I always do, but the problem is it's so 80s, as indeed is Jools himself. I'm hoping not to see Ade Edmondson and Jennifer Saunders and also that self-proclaimed twat, Dawn French. How boring was Imagine? Very! Anyway, here's hoping there will be some good music and not all that obscure stuff he crams into Later... but I'm not holding out much hope if I'm honest. I'd like to see Glen Matlock playing bass so here's hoping!

It's past midnight now, so Happy New Year to all my readers. Guess what, Hootenanny was poor, no Glen Matlock, unless he's on now. If so I wouldn't know because I've switched to BBC1 to watch the fireworks. Bed beckons. Good night.

Happy New Year (to all my readers!)

It's New Year's Day 2018. Outside everything is still, even at 0911hrs. I woke up at 0832hrs having got to bed around 0100hrs. I 'saw in the New Year' alone – meaning I was the only one still awake – watching a bit of Jools Holland and then switching to Nile Rodgers on BBC1. The thing I hate about watching Hootenanny, apart from the name, is that mildly corny music-head snobbery that surrounds the programme and, worst of all, the fact that it isn't live. That means it is recorded during the week and that when everybody says 'Happy New Year' it's not really, it's probably something like 27th December, possibly earlier, but either way it doesn't sit comfortably with me; I'd much prefer it to be properly live.

New Year – time for reflection, says Andy

So it's 2018 and the anti-climax that is the 'new year' is upon us; basically everything is the same as it was 24 hours ago except that there are people with pointless hangovers waking up in strange places and considering making their way home, or just waking up with a sore head and stumbling down to the kitchen for a pint glass full of cold water and something for their headache. I, on the other hand, can smugly report no hangover because I didn't drink a thing, apart from a peppermint tea. It all goes back to that dizziness thing I've been complaining about, which is still there, I'm just managing to avoid sending the room spinning by not getting up suddenly, not turning my head too fast and being a little careful. I'm not drinking because I don't want to add to the problem, although, by and large, like at this very moment, I don't have a problem.

In fact, on the dizziness front, a friend of mine texted me yesterday to say that his daughter has it too. The only common denominator between her and me is that we both had transatlantic flights just prior to getting dizzy. As I said, I don't have a problem now because I'm sitting upright and it seems to go when I'm out and about and standing upright. At night, though, I still sleep with three pillows, which seems to help, and the only time I might possibly experience any issues is getting out of bed. As a result, since it first occurred back in late October, I sleep on my left side and still get in and out of bed 'carefully'. I know that one false move and the room will spin. There is, apparently, something called the Epply Manoeuvre that can be done by a doctor – after two or three sessions the dizziness is supposed to go. I still might go and see my GP again, but I'm fine.

Trying in vain to keep my saddle dry...

On the cycling front, it's been good. For the last two weeks we've rode twice a week, Saturday and Sunday, although we didn't have our traditional Boxing Day ride and it's too late to go out for a New Year's Day ride. I was planning to see Bon today.

Today is Monday. Yesterday and Saturday we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, the slow way. There were heavy gusts of wind along the way on both rides and on Sunday a bit of rain too. In fact, it must have rained heavily during the night before both rides as there were huge puddles, some spanning the width of the road in front of us.

We had mum's Christmas Cake on Saturday and the good old Belvita biscuits yesterday. In a way I'm looking forward to the cake going for good. Alright, I've had one piece per day since around 27th December, but it'll be good not to have the temptation. That said I fancy a bit right now, but I'll resist as I've just enjoyed a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea.

Riding the slow way to the bus stop has always been a bit of an ordeal, but it's easy to blank it out, either by the heads-down approach or by chatting our way out of it; the great bit is passing the mobile phone mast and having just 75 yards or so to go before reaching Clarks Lane.

Yesterday, the combination of wind and rain meant that the seats at the Tatsfield Bus Stop were damp. Andy sat on his gloves, I sat on my rucksack and all was well. We discussed ways of modernising the shelter by adding an awning at the top and, perhaps, a small gated wall at the bottom to prevent the seat from getting wet during windy, rainy weather, but somehow we didn't think Tandridge Council would take our requests seriously.

Riding along the 269 in windy, rainy conditions is not good, especially if the puddles straddle the road like they did this weekend. The temptation, of course, is to avoid the puddles, but that means drifting into the middle of the road, which is not good when you consider that everybody else, on both sides of the road, is doing the same thing. The alternative is the off-road path or riding back the slow way, but taking the latter option means climbing Hesiers Hill, which takes up valuable time. Yesterday, on riding through what amounted to a small pond, I took a soaking on my right leg half way along the 269, just before the downhill stretch on the return run.

Coughlans opens early – worth knowing

We'd left later than usual yesterday. I'd texted Andy suggesting we met at the green at 0800hrs, not the usual 0730hrs. I needed to chill a little more than usual. Andy agreed. In fact I think we both considered sending the dreaded 'abort' text. When I hit the air I noticed it was raining so I texted Andy, just in case he too had rain. Let's face it, the aim of that text was to kind of abort the ride, but we both knew it was only 'spitting' a little, so the ride continued. Luckily, the only real heavy rain hit home when we were safely undercover at the bus stop and, unbelievably, it cleared up before we packed up and headed for home.

We parted at the green, but we'll be back next week, same time, same channel (as they used to say on American television).

• It's amazing what you don't notice while cycling. The photo below, taken by Andy's 'on-bike' camera shows a car passing me yesterday as we both rode back along the 269. It's a dangerous road and when you get cyclists and motorists coming at you in both directions there's not a great deal of space; and let's not forget that there is an off-road path we could be using.

Yours truly on the 269 yesterday morning...

My only worry about the above shot is that I'm wondering how far that car could move further to the right without drifting into oncoming traffic. He's given me what, about 4ft clearance? He's not exactly pushing me on to the grass bank. Just a thought.