Flying home, but jet lag puts paid to any cycling

Despite the ease with which I entered the USA  – automated passport machines making the process very smooth and preventing any large build-up of queues – getting out proved a little tiresome. Having checked in I joined a long queue of people that slowly edged its way forward and took a good 30 minutes of shuffling before reaching a uniformed man checking everybody's documents.

Phil and Andy, Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 18 October 2015

Then there was the usual humiliation of being herded, like animals, through the scanner, with various uniformed bozos shouting orders as people kicked off shoes and unfastened belts and then, as if by magic, the perfumed environment of the magical world 'beyond passport control' appeared.

"Where's my sausage sandwich, chaps? Oh."

A pleasant flight followed and I reached home around 1000hrs on Friday morning, but jet lag put paid to any thoughts of cycling. It was abort texts all round on Saturday and Sunday, and today Phil and Andy rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard without me – where they ate all the sausage sandwiches.

So much for great intentions...

...I awoke around 3am and couldn't get back to sleep however much I tried. I thought the best way to try and nod off would be to listen to the sound of my own breathing, but, as usual, fretful voices got in the way as I found myself thinking about this and that: when to take a break from work, that garden furniture that won't fix together, and so on and so forth. I think I finally must have nodded off around 5am and somewhere along the line I sent Andy an 'abort' text. It's all to do with my trip to the USA and how, since I returned this time last week, I haven't really stopped to recover. Things started to catch up on me and I've noticed a general weariness that leads to me falling asleep or starting to nod off anywhere – on trains, on settees and so forth.

Skies between Chicago and Cleveland, USA.

So, when I eventually woke up this morning it was nearly 10am and a wonderful day: blue skies with cottonwool clouds, ideal cycling weather and I'm guessing Andy was out there early enjoying the coolness of the early morning as I slept on. I felt mildly ashamed of not getting up and going, especially after aborting yesterday's ride to the pub in Sevenoaks, but in all honesty I just didn't have it in me.

I feel a lot better as I write this, mainly because I've had one of those Berocca tablets in a glass of water. You know, like the ad on television with those two loggers dancing around on top of the logs – "You, but on a good day!" Perhaps I should have taken one earlier in the week as I do feel noticeably better. I'm back, so to speak, which is good.

Back on the bike next week for definite. Here's hoping the weather holds.