Dizziness means no cycling – but I'm on the mend!

This sums up how I've been feeling...

Just been to the doc's. Basically I'm fine, the old blood pressure is normal (or certainly within the realms of not needing medication) and all I'm saddled with (for a few more weeks) is mild dizziness, caused, I'm told, by an inner ear infection, probably picked up on that BA flight from Dallas to London (see previous post). I can't say the past two to three weeks have been particularly pleasant. First I was off work for a week, sitting around at home, which would have been nice had it not been for the stress of feeling dizzy every time I got up; although, that said, it was nice as once I was up and about I was fine. I remember one excellent day when I visited the Waitrose Café and enjoyed a cup of tea and an almond croissant while reading a chapter from 1984, which I'm on the way to finishing, I hasten to add.

Feeling dizzy, of course, made cycling a no-go sport. In fact, I haven't been on the bike (bar a test run around the block on Saturday) since 22 October, a Sunday, when Andy and I rode, the slow way, to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. I was thinking about going yesterday, but I wasn't the full ticket so I made do with a walk to the Waitrose café and, you've guessed it, an almond croissant and a read of the newspaper. That involved a good 40-minute walk, the first 20 minutes of which were uphill.

Buffoon – sack him now!

I drove round to see mum yesterday too (and on Saturday) and that meant a slice of her excellent Christmas cake, yes, she's made them and they're ready to eat. The one I was eating was a spare, possibly even a 'test cake', but I can vouch for it's tastiness. It's been a bit of a 'cakey' weekend. Saturday I was round at mum's and eating a chunk of the festive cake, yesterday I was there too (eating another slice of cake) and let's not forget that almond croissant in the Waitrose Café. But I'm not going to get uptight about it, it's rare that I indulge in a 'cake fest' and I've got the excuse that I was in recovery mode.

Had a chat with Andy yesterday on the phone and he went out Sunday locally, but we're both getting back on track next weekend and meeting at the usual place at the usual time, so here's to next weekend.

Gove – just sack the - - - t

What's been in the news? Well, the thing that really annoys me is Boris 'Buffoon' Johnson, our laughable foreign secretary, and Orville lookalike Michael Gove, both of whom should be sacked for their handling of the Nazanin Zachary-Ratcliffe case. In a nutshell she's been languishing in an Iranian jail for over a year and the plan is to get her out and reunited with her child and husband. The poor woman is suffering, is on the verge of a nervous breakdown and now it looks as if her sentence might be extended thanks to the foolish words of that idiot Boris Johnson and then follow-up lunacy from Gove. Both men should be booted out of the Government, that's my view. And they should appoint Rory Stewart as Foreign Secretary.

Anyway, look, I've got to go, but talk again soon and here's to getting back on the bikes.

More thoughts on 'Brexit'...

Things are calming down on the Brexit front as people start to realise that 'democracy' has spoken and we've just got to get on with it; although, that said, there's a lot of tension out there as the country has clearly split into those who voted remain and those who voted out and neither side particularly like one another. The remain camp don't like the Brexiters because, they say, the battle was fought on the basis of immigration and the likes of BoJo and Gove and Farage lied to the public and now we're out of the EU. But the Brexiters believe that immigration is the big thing, they talk about how the country can't accommodate a constant influx of both EU and non-EU migrants and that an Australian points system would be best for the country. Remainers cite trade deals and the future for our children, unity and so on. It's one of those 'six of one, half a dozen of the other' arguments.

I admit that I wavered a little bit on polling day – or rather just before polling day. It's really odd, because in many ways perhaps I should have voted out. I'm always getting annoyed about the bankers and 'big business' and that whole notion of the EU being undemocratic. The way they have treated the Greeks, the uncertainty surrounding the Euro, the fact that 'free borders' has meant that places like Bruxelles and Paris are inflicted with the scourge of terrorism – there are lots of reasons to vote out. In fact, to stick it to the man, perhaps the best thing would have been to vote out.

Never trust anybody who bears a slight resemblance to Orville...

There are so many paradoxes. In many ways, the EU should be a 'left wing' thing – something borne out by the fact that bands at Glastonbury this year used the occasion to make their feelings known about 'Brexit', saying they were against it. In times past, the rock establishment has always come out against right wing politics and policies. But 'left wing' also in the sense of the EU being a huge bureaucracy, a massive 'machine' that takes an age to decide upon anything. The left, traditionally, likes 'the state' whereas the right is all for 'small government' and deregulation. There's also stuff around workers rights that attracts the left, which makes it odd that Jeremy Corbyn is a 'fervent anti-European' and I found it odd to discover that Lord Owen was the same. Perhaps I'm not as left wing as I think I am, but then I've always been middle-of-the-road politically. I can see the wisdom of the thinking on both sides, but I do tend to be 'left leaning'.

I seriously thought about voting out, a lot of the time wondering what would happen if we did – a bit like switching off your car headlights for a split second in the dark while driving along a country lane. Now that's scary. I like the idea, to a degree, about taking a step in the dark, although, ultimately, I think it's a bad thing – or rather it is at the moment. Things might improve, but I'm not holding my breath.

Walking to work of a morning I've started to play a new game. Spot the Brexiter. It's easy. Anybody who is old and gnarled and bad tempered-looking and any thick-set bloke with tattoos, a shaven head and a football shirt. And that, of course, is the other interesting thing about the Brexit vote: it's the little man standing up to the political elite. Big business has lost out. Soros (and others) have lost millions and that gives me a strange degree of satisfaction as that whole thing about the EU being an elite club, foreign workers being shipped in to bring down wages for the fat cats and so on. In a way Brexit is a kind of revolution, although I can't help but feel it will be short-lived. People forget that they're dealing with Tories and the Conservative Party (the party of 'business'). And we all know what 'business' is all about; it's about hiring and firing, making a profit, saving money, keeping wages down and so on, and the EU is designed to make life easier for business and fat cats.

But what about democracy? What about 'the people' of Europe? Remember Cecilia Malmstrom, the chief negotiator – or one of them – charged with the task of making TTIP happen? She told the Independent newspaper, not that long ago, that she didn't take her mandate from the European people, an odd thing to say, and it was concluded that she took her mandate from corporate lobbyists. There's a lot of corporate lobbyists in Bruxelles and I've always felt a little uneasy about that.

So perhaps going it alone is a good thing. Only time will tell. What lies immediately ahead, of course, is the negotiations, but with the country divided and it's political system in turmoil we need to get our act together first. I can't say I relish the prospect of the country being led by any of the Brexiters, certainly not Gove or Leadsam – and I'm glad that BoJo is out of the competition and has no chance in hell of reaching the 'judges' houses'. My favourite would be May, although, ultimately, I want the Labour Party to get its act together, appoint a 'proper politician' – like Alan Johnson or Hilary Benn – and boot out the Tories once and for all as they've made a right mess of things.

May bank holiday – Sunday morning ramblings...

It's 0630hrs and, in all honesty, I never thought I'd be sitting here at this hour. Having planned an early night – or rather, having planned to go to bed 'on time' (around 2230hrs) – I then discovered that I'd be in the car at gone midnight picking somebody up at the railway station. Admittedly this meant that I could sit and watch a couple of episodes of the X-Files so I embraced the situation.

You might recall that yesterday I didn't go out on the bike because I had a 'drive' in mind. Well, that drive took me to Petworth (in West Sussex) and then the beach at Littlehampton. The weather, as I'm sure you'll recall, was wonderful. The reason for no bike ride was to conserve energy and not risk falling asleep at the wheel, which can happen if tiredness sets in; I know somebody who lost his arm having fallen asleep at the wheel. And, as the Greyhound bus driver told me in Pittsburgh last week, the key to any form of long distance driving is rest.

Rest is crucial, say Greyhound bus drivers. This dated shot I found online.

Now let's not make any wild claims here: the difference between the English and Americans when it comes to driving distances is vast. Americans are known to drive in excess of 10hours to get somewhere, often much more, working occasionally in shifts or simply stopping for cups of coffee en route and really going for it. In the UK, if you drive for more than about six hours you'll end up in the sea – and that's if you were driving from Lands End to John O' Groats. So my piddly journey of around 130 miles all-in was nothing to shout about, but I know one thing and that is 'tiredness kills' and I've had many an occasion where I've felt heavy-lidded while clasping the wheel and it's not good.

So, having got to bed, eventually, at gone midnight, I thought I'd check if Andy fancied a later start – meeting at the green around 0800hrs instead of the normal 0730hrs. Alright, just a 30-minute delay, but it makes all the difference. And then, when the alarm sounded – or rather the radio sprang to life at 0600hrs – I was up and out of bed. If the truth be known, I was awake at 0530hrs as the sun had already penetrated the curtains; and while I did get back to sleep, when the radio came on I listened to the first news headline – something about Michael Gove and Boris Johnson and all the back-biting going on within the Tory ranks over the EU debate – and then jumped out of bed.

It was another wonderful morning outside. The sun was shining and, well, that's all I know to be honest, it's another great day and perfect for cycling. I put on a tee-shirt, found my socks (one was on the floor, the other hiding in one of the legs of my trousers) and then headed downstairs for Shredded Wheat, strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, not forgetting a cup of tea (with milk!). You may be wondering why I've included 'with milk', well, it's all to do with my recent trip to the USA and a tea company called Bigelow's.

Bigelow's makes some wonderful tea, and I discovered it by accident. Over by the tea station in my hotel – which, annoyingly, was closer to the front desk than the breakfast room (unlike the coffee) – I found a little red sachet of black tea but failed to notice that it contained orange rind and sweet spices. Initially, I thought there was something wrong with the water until I picked up a sachet of the tea the following morning and noted that it was a black tea with orange rind and sweet spices, something, perhaps, that I should drink with milk. For the rest of my stay in the USA I had the tea straight without milk and then, before checking out and flying home I half-inched a few sachets to take home (around 20!). All last week here in the UK I've been enjoying this wonderful tea, without milk, and I ran out yesterday, so now I'm back on normal black tea with milk and it's not the same. I'm planning to get some of Bigelow's tea delivered to me here in the UK.

So I'm sitting here at 0653hrs, having enjoyed my breakfast – and looking forward to another one in Westerham later this morning – and I'm feeling alive and ready to ride, which is odd when you consider I was expecting to feel tired and heavy-lidded and in 'abort' territory. There was a text from Andy saying yes to a later start and while I considered texting back and saying 'stick with our usual time' I remembered the wise words of the Greyhound bus driver and decided to chill out and leave at 0730hrs for an 0800hrs rendezvous at Warlingham Green. For a minute I thought I'd spelt 'rendezvous' incorrectly, but it's fine. "The key is rest," my Greyhound bus driver said and he was right. Remember that when I met the guy he'd driven a bus from New York City to Pittsburgh via Philadelphia and was heading back in the opposite direction the following morning. That's a long drive and with the added responsibility of having passengers on board.

Riding a Greyhound bus in America is probably one of those things we should all do at some stage in our lives. Perhaps the next time I'm out there, I'll ride one somewhere, but the distances are so huge and time at such a premium, it's something I'll have to think long and hard about before climbing aboard.

On the rest front, I haven't been doing too well. The worst thing about jet lag is often its subtlety. By that I mean it hangs around long after you think it's gone home. I got back last Saturday morning, not  yesterday, but the week before and I decided that day to stay up until it was time to hit the sack. This I managed quite well. During the day I had a few periods of nodding off for a split second or two, but I managed it all the way through to gone midnight and then, during the week just past, I found that while the jet lag proper had gone, I noticed that I had a new lease of life around 2300hrs and sat up watching late night television shows before hitting the sack around the witching hour. This has persisted all week and what with yesterday's late night I'm still not getting the early night my body deserves. I know that one of these days I'll feel need to crash early and that I'll simply stagger up to bed and fall asleep.

Right, it's time for a ride. See you later...