My sister has passed away...

Saturday, 2nd December: My sister passed away today. We all knew it was going to happen. On Monday she would have been in hospital for five weeks. She's not been well but she hasn't been in any pain and she died peacefully. We'd all taken turns visiting her and now she is gone. I stood by her bedside with my brother, we'd both missed her passing by around 30 minutes. She looked rested, she looked at peace, and I'm glad to say that she loved the bear I had bought her some weeks earlier. We are left with our memories, nothing more.

Crissy - or Criss - or Cwar as I called her, was a good person and right now I'm feeling a little numb. It's quite hard to believe that she is no more, but it's true and there's nothing anybody can do to change the situation. 

I'd been on a bike ride, just a short one, but on my return, around 1230hrs, I found a text from my niece and jumped straight in to the car and headed for Epsom General, its around 10 miles away. Seeing my sister lying in bed at peace was sad and strange; it was just Jon and I on either side talking about old times with Criss in the middle, lifeless and still. We went to the cafe on the second floor and had tea and an almond croissant and sat there reminiscing and trying to be upbeat about things and then, when Jenny arrived, and after she had seen her mum, we drove to our mum's. We told her the sad news and she took it reasonably well. Jon offered to stay the night but she said it was okay. Jon and I considered a curry but then realised it wouldn't be right so I dropped him at Carshalton station and then drove home, feeling a little jittery, my stomach fluttery as it had been most of the day since I heard that Criss didn't have long. I had to take my mind off of things so I listened to Radio 2, Rylan Clark's show was on and, thankfully, it calmed me down, especially when he called his mum and there followed a humorous exchange which was, by nature, mundane but funny nonetheless as I drove through the freezing streets towards home. Listening to a CD would have been a pointless exercise as this wasn't a moment to pretend I was in my own movie (as I normally do when I'm driving alone) and I preferred the music from the radio as it carried no baggage. There was a quiz involving members of the public, easy questions most of them. Lots of traffic. Too much. It characterises driving these days it seems. At one point, a car had broken down and I had to turn left instead of driving straight ahead as planned. I turned around and all was fine and naturally my thoughts were with my sister and her premature exit from the world. I sat in front of the television for most of the evening trying to keep things upbeat and eventually went to bed in what I call the capsule (it's Max's room, but add a radio playing classical music, draw back the curtains and look out at the night sky and it's like being the only passenger in a small spaceship bound for nowhere).

I awoke Sunday morning still feeling empty. I'm thinking about another short ride, hopefully I'll pluck up the motivation to get out there and do it.The key is to remain upbeat.

Loads of cycling!

It was a busy weekend on the cycling front. First, a ride to the good old Tatsfield Bus Stop with Andy during which we narrowly avoided a soaking. The original plan had been to ride to Westerham for breakfast at the Tudor Rose, but the weather was looking decidedly dodgy so we opted for the safe option and rode to the bus stop instead.

All the way there – we decided to follow the slow route up Beddlestead Lane – there was the threat of  rain, but we remained dry. It was only while enjoying tea and biscuits under the cover of the wooden bus shelter that the rain started to fall. We watched it and waited and when the coast was clear, so to speak, we jumped on the bikes and headed for home, following the 269 into Warlingham where we parted company.

Andy wasn't riding on Sunday so I took the opportunity of riding over to Epsom to fix Bon's puncture. I left the house around 0726hrs (in fact, I definitely left the house at that time) and reached Epsom by 0818hrs, roughly 50 minutes later.

Woodmansterne Green, Sunday 23 July 2017

The ride to Epsom is fairly straightforward and involves riding the same route we use to reach Woodmansterne Green, but instead of turning left by the lavender fields on the outskirts of Carshalton I kept riding until I eventually arrived in Banstead where I continued straight towards what is known as the 'Mad Mile' (or rather the top of it). I then crossed the A217 and rode down towards what used to be the Drift Bridge Hotel (it's now flats) where I swung to the right, under the railway bridge and then immediately left. At the lights I turned right, then first left and soon I was a Bon's house.

Bon put the kettle on and for a short while we wandered around the garden, chatting about this and that before I reached for the leeches and got down to the business of fixing the puncture. Bon has a Cannondale with a roughly similar specification to my Specialized Rockhopper, but he had a rear wheel puncture. Fortunately, the Cannondale has quick-release wheels, which makes life easier, and soon the puncture was fixed.

Bon joined me on my return ride as far as Woodmansterne Green, taking me through the High Beeches housing estate and then along an off-road track that emerged close to Banstead railway station. We headed back over the A217 at the top of the aforementioned 'Mad Mile' and rode towards Longcroft Avenue, a right turn a mile further down the road. When we reached the green we stopped and chatted before Bon decided to head for home and I pushed on into Carshalton to see mum.

Unfortunately, my car had broken down on Saturday, stranding me temporarily in an Esso Garage in East Grinstead (new alternator needed). I still don't possess a car as I write this, which, in all honesty, is no bad thing, but not having a car at the weekend means it's difficult to get over to see mum unless I rely on the bike. So, being in Woodmansterne, I gave mum a call and around 20 minutes later there I was, eating cake and drinking tea and making small talk with mum. I left mum's around 1100hrs and made my home following the usual route. There's a nice stretch of off-road track along the road leading to the lavender fields so I used that and then found some more off-road tracks on what amounts to the Croydon Road towards Purely where I rejoined Foxley Lane and wound my way into Sanderstead where I tackled the South Face of West Hill.

Later in the day I went for brief ride around the block and I think I must have whacked myself out because I had the feeling of fidgety restlessness which used to be called 'over tiredness'. I had a strange hunger that persisted until the sun went down and I hit the sack early to avoid eating too much bread or breakfast cereal. You'll be appalled to note that on Sunday I ate four Shredded Wheat – two for breakfast and two for (ahem) 'dessert' after dinner.

While I had toyed with the idea of riding to work, the rain gave me an excuse to leave the bike in the garage and now I'm looking forward to next week's ride with Andy. Bon said we should both ride over to Woodmansterne again – he has a point!

Computers, cookies and crime

For most people – and for me most of the time – Sunday is a day of rest. But not yesterday. I had work to do and I won't bore you with it other than to say that from 1300hrs yesterday, I was sitting in a conference hall listening to people talk about the digital age and how it's going to affect everybody, even the manufacturing industries. In fact, it's not so much 'going to' affect everybody, it already IS affecting everybody. We have more computing power in our mobile phones than the computer used to take Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin (I nearly said Lightyear) to the moon. I could go on, but I'll spare you the lecture as you probably already know that mobile technology is moving fast and there will come a time when you'll trust the technology in your iphone more than the medical profession.

Central Chicago is said to be relatively safe

With all the above in mind – not so much the subject matter as I'd yet to learn some of the amazing facts I was assimilating yesterday afternoon – I thought I'd spend the morning wandering around, doing a bit of shopping and generally checking things out.

It was a wonderful day in Chicago. In fact the temperature this week will hit the 70s (fahrenheit) and residents of the so-called Windy City won't be experiencing too much in the way of breezy weather.

Whether those running in yesterday's Bank of America Chicago Marathon felt the same way, I'll never know. The race kicked off early yesterday morning and was being covered by the television networks in the early hours. Later, when I took to the streets, I saw plenty of people covered in silver foil capes having completed the 26-mile course. Some were elated, some were looking a little weary and a couple of people I spoke to were complaining about foot problems. Well, what do you expect if you run 26 miles.

My 'uncle' John – who I used to live virtually next door to when I was a kid and who, incidentally, wasn't really my uncle, he had something to say about running that annoyed the crap out of my dad.

God knows why we called him 'uncle' but we did, just like we used to call 'uncle' Brian our uncle too. They – John and Brian – were neighbours who were friendly with my parents. We used to enjoy happy holidays on the south coast with Brian and his family, back in the day when the summers were always sunny and warm. Sadly, they're both no longer with us. But it's 'uncle' John I'm referencing here because he used to say that 'animals only run if they have to', and if you knew my dad, which most of you don't, Jon excluded,  you'd understand why he wasn't happy with this remark. Dad competed in the 1984 London Marathon when, if I recall, he still indulged a smoking habit. I can't remember his time but it was pretty good for a man of 55 who, one way or another, wasn't THAT sporty in his day-to-day life. He started with half marathons and progressed to the big one.

Whenever I see marathon runners I think of dad. He loved it. In fact, every April from 1985 onwards, he always got his medal out on the day of the London Marathon and never ceased to encourage us – my brother and I (not so much my sister) – to enrol for the next event. I never did, but my brother Jon ran a handful of London Marathons and also put in some good times.

Running doesn't agree with me. Whenever I have run in the past I've injured myself. In 2005, after running around a disused Second World War airfield in deflated running shoes – the air in one of the soles had 'left the building', leaving me running unevenly – I did my back in. The net result? Severe lower back pain that persisted for around six months and led me to cancel a trip to the USA. Now that's not something I'd do lightly. I'm fine now (touch wood) and the problem has not returned, but I steer clear of running in any shape or form; I won't even run for the bus or the train.

My hotel (centre) on North Michigan Avenue

There were marathon runners everywhere yesterday: on the streets with family and friends – marathon running is a family affair for a lot of people – in the hotel lobby, anywhere you'd care to mention; and I saw them throughout the day, even last thing at night, in the hotel bar, when I sneaked in for a light snack and a glass of wine having walked the length of North Michigan Avenue from East Washington. Since lunch time I'd only eaten an oatmeal and raisin cookie in Peet's Coffee opposite Millennium Park and close to the Chicago Cultural Centre.

Earlier in the day I'd visited a few of the shops on North Michigan Avenue. I even tried on a pair of jeans and was amazed to discover that I've reverted back to my old size, that of a 32in waist. This surprised and elated me and that's why I feel mildly guilty about that oatmeal and raisin cookie and, indeed, that late night snack in the hotel bar. I could have just gone to bed and waited for breakfast.

Last night at the Cultural Centre I chatted with a fellow journalist who lives in Chicago near the Midway airport where crime is a bit of an issue. He lives in a townhouse in what he regards as a reasonably safe part of town, but he said that within a few blocks, the crime levels go up but the house prices go down. Always be concerned if you're looking to buy a house in the USA if the house you're looking at is much bigger, say, than what you're looking for, but is incredibly cheap. It probably means you might be moving to a dodgy neighbourhood. I keyed the Midway district into Google and found a forum site on which people discussed the inherent dangers of living in the area. Some people said it's fine if you're simply going to the airport, but others said keep an eye on your surroundings if you're walking about outside the airport.

The journalist I was talking to said he'd experienced very little in the way of trouble, but he did relate an incident during which he and his girlfriend were mugged by guys with guns and another incident some time ago when he was on a train late at night when two men boarded the train and one produced a razor from his mouth and told my journalist colleague to say nothing – or else. There was somebody else on the train asleep and he was the guy the thieves targetted, stealing, I think, his wallet without him waking up. Something like that.

It all made me think how relatively safe it is in the UK. According to my journalist colleague, the problems start when an area is going through a transition from run-down 'dodgy' neighbourhood to something a little more gentrified. When it's run-down, the residents are all in the same boat, ie they're all poor. But as the area starts to attract professional people with money, the crime starts and continues until the process of 'gentrification' is completed, everyone is respectable and the 'low-lifes' – if that's what they are – have moved on.

Human statue on North Michigan Avenue – she's safe

In the UK burglaries tend to occur when the occupants of the house are out; it's mostly opportunist thieves and small-time crooks from the locality. Crucially, however, they're not armed. Alright, perhaps they might have a knife, but they won't be packing a piece. In the USA, Americans have the right to bear arms – something like that, I'm not au fait with the legal technicalities – so intruders are likely to be armed and the chances are that if you produce a gun you're engaging them in a fire fight that you'll probably lose (assuming the bad guys have greater experience of using their hardware than you do).

Central Chicago, I'm told, is pretty safe, but one thing I have noticed is that so far I've yet to see a single police patrol car purring around the city. Normally, whether it's LA, Portland, Knoxville, Detroit, you name it, I've seen a police presence. Here in the Windy City I've seen (and heard) plenty of ambulances and vehicles owned by the Chicago Fire Department, but no police. Here's hoping they're out there somewhere.

Postscript: just looking at that shot of the human statue (above) can you imagine how awful it must be if your job is being a human statue? She must have woken up this morning in her house or apartment and thought 'where's the silver paint?' Then I'm guessing that she stood outside in her back yard – Americans don't have gardens, they have 'yards' – and sprayed herself. She might have a husband or boyfriend (or girlfriend) to do it for her, I don't know, but what a palaver! And then those clothes she's wearing must stand up on their own. Theoretically, she could probably jump into them, but I'm sure she doesn't. And then of course she's got to get to where she's working – North Michigan Avenue – from wherever she lives. I'm assuming she'll travel by car – imagine meeting her on the train or bus – and in that case I'm wondering what kind of looks she gets from other drivers. What if she gets out to fill up with petrol? "No, I'm perfectly alright, I'm a human statue," she might say to passers-by. "This is how I earn my money, by standing absolutely still and scaring the shit out of old-age pensioners and little children."

Suburban ride to mum's – 13.5 miles there and back...

The dark starts are getting darker as we approach October when, in roughly a month from now, the clocks will go back one hour and winter will be upon us.

This week I received two aborts: one from Phil yesterday and a late one from Andy this morning, which, of course, immediately made me wonder whether or not I should go. In fact, sitting here now at 0700hrs there is a strong temptation just to remain seated and not go anywhere, but I've got to, for the sake of my own sanity. Not riding is always a bad idea.

Library picture of tea round at mum's.

So I rode to mum's (13.5 miles there and back) through suburban streets and when I got there I met Jon, we had tea and a couple of Kit Kats, not my favourite snack item, but there you go. I had a second cup of tea and then, around 0900hrs I rode home, through the smallholdings and eventually up the steep side of West Hill like last week, arriving home around 0947.

The bike's in need of a service. The gears keep slipping and I can't crank it down to use the lower eight, which made the steep side of West Hill fairly hard work. I say 'fairly hard' but I surprised myself: it really wasn't that bad. The bike needs new handle grips too, a new front tyre wouldn't go amiss either and some new brake shoes on the front would improve things no end. But being constantly on Skid Row means it'll have to wait. I remember once riding the bike without any brakes, back in 2011. Somehow I worked out a way of stopping it. But it's not that bad yet. The rear brake is so powerful it doesn't matter that I don't have a decent front brake. The last time it was the other way around, the rear brake was non-existent and I relied on a poor front brake. Not good, but I survived.

Tomorrow we're heading for Westerham. Not sure if Phil will be there or not, but Andy's up for it. He wanted to head for the lake, but I'm not sure I'll have the time, unless we head off ultra early.

Day eight: to Carshalton to see mum (approximately 12 miles).

Jon in Carshalton Park, 21st April 2014.

It's not yet 0700hrs but already the skies are blue and all is still. I'm about to embark upon my ninth consecutive day of riding and, if I'm honest, I'm in two minds as to where to go: Westerham has crossed my mind, the idea being I really push the boat out on what could, theoretically, be my last consecutive ride for a while. I'm going back to work tomorrow, but that doesn't mean I can't ride any more daily rides, it just means I'm likely to break the current cycle of back-to-back rides...unless, perhaps, I get up early and ride the 10-miler to Ledgers Road and back (which should take an hour tops). Even if I do it once it means I've riden for 10 consecutive days, a nice round number.

I've sent a text to Jon to see if he fancies a ride over to mum's, but I've had no answer, which means a lonely ride somewhere else and there's a few jobs to be done around the house today so a Westerham ride might be out of the question considering it's now 0718hrs. It's looking likely to be the Tatsfields – either the bus stop, the village or the churchyard, although I've visited them all last week and that leaves Botley Hill, a short, predictable ride that I took twice last week. Woodmansterne Green would be good, but it's a bit suburban in terms of the ride over there, not sure. So, here I am, thinking, poring over the possibilities, something I won't have time to do tomorrow morning.

The river in Carshalton Park – normally it's dry, but not this year!

I called Jon, he called back and then I headed off towards Purley, Foxley Lane and, of course, mum's house. Jon met me along Foxley Lane as I was running a little late. I'd left the house at 0750hrs and after Jon and I linked up we headed into Wallington, branching off around the streets of South Wallington – Brambledown, Boundary Road and then into Carshalton Park to take a look at the water levels after the flooding earlier in the year. Normally the river beds are dry but today there were still full of water, but the levels had receded a bit. We crossed Ruskin Road and weaved our way down to Carshalton High Street, turning left and riding along to the ponds where we turned right into North Street and then left into Honeywood Lodge, through Festival Walk and right on to West Street towards Colston Avenue, Westmead Corner and into mum's road.

The Kona in Carshalton Park this morning.

Jenny and her fiancé Alex were there having breakfast (they'd stayed overnight). We had a mug of tea and a chat and then, around 0900hrs, we left. At the bottom of mum's road, Jon turned left and I turned right and headed up Shorts Road, then Alma and then turned left on to the Carshalton Road before doing a right up Oxford Road, riding through Carshalton Beeches High Street and up Banstead Road South to Staplehurst Road where I hung a left, sailed down the hill and up the other side and then turned right, heading towards Croydon Lane. This part of the ride is very pleasant as it runs between smallholdings on one side and the periphery of the Oaks Park on the other.

At Croydon Lane I turned left and rode into Purley, back into the Foxley Lane and then across to Pampisford Road before turning right, crossing the Brighton Road and weaving my way through side streets towards the Sanderstead Road and West Hill, where my gears messed up a bit, although I never dismounted. From West Hill, having rode up the 'steep side', I freewheeled into Barnfield and was home at roughly 0955hrs.

Mum on the doorstep bidding Jon and I farewell...

Another wonderful day – a million times better than yesterday and roughly on a par with the whole of the last week (sunshine and blue skies).

Since the Sunday before last, I have cycled a total of 143 miles on consecutive days.

Round at mum's...

Sunday 2nd February: Yes, alright, we went to mum's again, but why not? Andy, Phil, Jon and yours truly were there early for tea and cake and very pleasant it was too, although I'm conscious that early visits to mum must be the exception and not the rule for many reasons. One, mum's 85 this year and I don't want her to feel that we're all suddenly going to turn up expecting tea and cake at some ridiculous hour – not that mum minds us being there, she rather enjoys it. Second, the whole point of cycling: to get some exercise. Of late we've been leaving the house later and, as a result, having much shorter rides. Fine, it's not so much of a wrench as getting up at 0600hrs, but it's not in the original spirit of NoVisibleLycra – that of getting up early, heading off to Westerham, quick cup of tea and a cereal bar and then back home before 10am.

Jon, his Kona Fire Mountain and mum talking to Andy.

The plan is to start the early runs again next week and while it might take time to get re-accustomed to the early starts and the frosty landscape of February mornings, we've got to break out of the sloppy, late starts and the short runs. Alright, even if we do go to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (the slow way – arguably a better work-out than Westerham) it's best to go early rather than late as we all have commitments during the day.

So, we went to mum's. Phil and I met Andy at the top of Foxley Lane at 0815hrs and we headed off in the direction of Woodmansterne Green but then turned right instead of left, headed down through the smallholdings, past the Oaks Squash Club, into Carshalton Beeches, past the railway station and down the hill towards the lights at the Windsor Castle pub where we turned left, rode along the Carshalton Road, past the Cambridge Road BP Garage and M&S Simply Food and then right into Alma Road. We turned left into Shorts Road, under the railway bridge, left again at Westmead Corner and left again into Rossdale.

Everything stops for tea (and cake) at mum's, Sunday 2nd February 2014

Tea, cake and chit-chat followed, our bikes safe in the garage, and then we headed back exactly the way we came; and what a work-out it turned out to be: up Cambridge Road, right into Carshalton Beeches High Street, up Banstead Road South to Staplehurst Road, right at the mini roundabout towards the small holdings, left on to the Croydon Road, into Foxley Lane (where we bade farewell to Andy) and then crossing the A23 into the Pampisford Road and winding through the back streets towards the Purley Downs Road, hanging left into Norman Avenue and eventually surfacing on the Sanderstead Road (B269) before the punishing, but short, West Hill and home.

A good ride was had by all and the weather, incidentally was fine all day, a bit like it is now as I sit here on a Monday morning (I have today off). It's bright and there are blue skies and white clouds, although poor weather is promised in the shape of rain and heavy winds.

The rain and the wind continue to batter the UK...and there's no riding today

There are severe weather warnings as the rain and wind continue to batter the UK and, as I sit here now, it carries on; the rain hitting the roof and the wind blowing everywhere. A ride is completely out of the question so this morning I sent an 'abort' text to Andy and he sent one back saying 'let's see what it's like tomorrow'.

Jon in drier times at Hunger's End, Merstham.

I'd like to think we'll get out tomorrow, but the weather forecasters think differently. The UK, they say, is in for some severe winds and rains. Already, as this blog has reported, there has been extensive flooding and power cuts, people have been washed out to sea, the trains have experienced severe delays due to things like fallen trees, and there are, as I've said, problems with travel everywhere.

In fact, I can't think of anything more unpleasant than jumping on the bike and going for a ride. Having said that, my brother Jon enters the NoVisibleLycra "Respect is Due" hall of fame. He went out for a ride on New Year's Day, over to mum's, and took a major soaking in the process. He called me from mum's where I'm guessing he was standing in his underpants, his clothes drying on various radiators.

The story goes that once his clothes were dry he put them on and rode off home, taking another soaking. Still, it gets a 'well done' from the NoVisibleLycra "Respect is Due" committee.

Woodmansterne Green on November 13 2010

Jon on Woodmansterne Green, Saturday 13 November 2010

Here's Jon on Woodmansterne last weekend (13 November 2010).