To Woodmansterne Green to meet Bon...

I'd made the tea, I was dressed and ready to head outside and ride to the green to meet Andy when I decided to check the iphone. Andy had aborted and I nearly did too. Having woken up at 0500hrs thinking it was an hour later, I could have simply gone back to bed and it was tempting, but no, I texted Bon to see if he wanted to meet on Woodmansterne Green. He did, so off I went to meet him.

Our bikes on Woodmansterne Green, Sunday morning

Having not been on a ride for a fortnight, I was out of condition and found the ride a little sluggish, especially on the road leading to Woodmansterne Green. Bon met me half way and we both headed towards the green where I produced the tea. The weather was wonderful and we spent a long time drinking tea, wandering about, chatting about stuff and enjoying the warmth of a late October Sunday morning.

Bon and yours truly...

The ride from the green to the Croydon Road was freezing. My face started to ache, that's how cold it was, and I was glad when I made the right turn and headed, largely off-road, towards Foxley Lane. I decided to ride up the steep side of West Hill, which was fairly painless and when I reached home I went straight out again, but in the car, not on the bike. The bike, incidentally, needs a drop of oil. The car took me to mum's and all the way there I listened to Automatic For the People by REM.

It was good to see mum and eat some cake, but soon it was time to head home via the car wash. On the drive home I listened to Iggy Pop. "Here comes my Chinese rug...".

It was a lazy day, which was much needed.

Rain initially stops play, but then I head to mum's and Andy 'does a local ride'

I was up with the lark at around 0600hrs. It was hard to tell what was happening with the weather because it was so dark outside. I had two Weetabix, a slice of toast and a cup of tea and then, having prepared the tea for the ride, I left the house, but only reached the front porch. There I could see the rain, caught in the beam of powerful streetlights. Wind gusted and fine rain was blown hither and thither. Not ideal, I thought, so I sent Andy a text and we decided to abort. Andy said he'd probably ride out locally while I figured that time would be the great healer. Sooner or later I was proved right as the rain did stop. My iphone said it would stop around 0900hrs – which was roughly on the money – but I couldn't wait that long and once daylight arrived I ventured outside to check things out.

It was still fairly mild out. I decided to ride to mum's, following the usual route. It rained lightly for most of the outward ride and when I got to mum's I was a little on the damp side, but nothing serious enough to warrant taking off my trousers and draping them over a radiator.

Tea and fruitcake round at mum's house in Carshalton – perfect!

Over tea and cake, mum and I chatted about this and that, as we always do, and I got a rare insight into mum's upbringing – her life at 64 Poulton where her brother Jack and sister-in-law Shirley still live.

Today we talked about mum's father, a person who remains to this day unknown to me, bar what I've heard. He died relatively young – I never met him, nor him me. He left the family home during the war – leaving mum and her three brothers – and eventually moved to Sheffield. He had asked mum to join him there, but she was about to get married to my dad and so declined the offer.

Mum talked about how her dad would decorate the house at Christmas time: paper chains on the ceiling and balloons.

"He liked to entertain," said mum, relating how he used to push the boat out over the festive season offering his friends and relations a choice of beef, pork, lamb and turkey – or something lavish of that magnitude, a bit like a modern day carvery. Christmas puddings were steamed in a 'copper', mum added. A 'copper' was a bath of the sort you filled up in the living room in front of the fire.

We moved on to talk about her aunties – Violet, May and Millie (the latter was always known as 'Aunt Mill'  to us), but we never saw a great deal of her or Violet and May – they all lived over Woolwich way and I think that's why mum's side of the family are Arsenal supporters. I can only remember Aunt Mill, who lived in Plumstead. She was one of those 'old ladies' who sported a raspberry stubble on her chin.

Memories are strange, but they're all there in mum's house. Across the street used to be Mrs Wheeler's house – the house is still there, but Mrs Wheeler passed away some time ago. She used to own a sandwich chop in central London. One of her sons, Billy, built a boat on the front driveway and I can still see it now, in my imagination. Next door to Mrs Wheeler was a frail, gummy old lady with long, white hair, called Mrs Rattan. She died ages ago and today the house is owned by John and Marion Brown. John was a policeman (now retired) and I remember him and dad used to play tennis together. I also remember the time he and some other policemen evicted a young couple that moved in (as squatters) after Mrs Rattan had passed away.

The rain had stopped and things had brightened up so I mounted the bike and rode home. The ride was pleasant and I was home before 1000hrs – having cycled roughly 30 miles over the weekend (probably closer to 28 miles).

One year ago...click here to see what we were up to!

Botley Hill and the Tatsfield Churchyard...with bacon sarnies AND some of mum's fruit cake...

It's been a good weekend cycling-wise. The usual short one on Saturday – to Botley Hill – and then, on Sunday, a ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard. On Saturday three of us took to the streets – Andy, Phil and yours truly – and then, on Sunday, just Andy and I (Phil was in the London to Brighton Bike Ride, a 50-miler). So, in total, Phil did quite a bit of riding this weekend: 14 miles to and from Botley, an easy 10 miles to Clapham Common and then 50 to Brighton, that's rounded off at 75 miles.

Andy's mug and his bacon sandwich at Botley Hill.

On Saturday it was grey, but not cold. Rain had fallen over night and there were plenty of puddles to be avoided (especially if you're riding a Kona without mudguards). I'd been out to check my bike during the week, just in case the rear tyre was flat, but all was well. We met Andy at Warlingham Green and headed off along the Limpsfield Road. Phil had made us all bacon sandwiches, which went down well, washed down with some tea and, after a short chat we headed for home.

Mum's fruit cake at the Tatsfield Churchyard – two slices each and tea!

Sunday, it was Andy and I who met on the Green and headed out for the Tatsfield Churchyard. It was a pleasant day and this time we had mum's fruit cake, a nice big chunk that afforded us both two slices. I'd packed a kitchen knife and two plates plus the tea and we sat on our usual bench chatting about various things, including me losing my rag with Lloyds TSB (you'll soon be able to read the full account on http://the-bungler.blogspot.com) but let's just say that, what with my recent dealings with the idiot next door, the poetry incident with my mother-in-law (you really don't want to know) and now Lloyds Bank, you could say I'm losing it a bit. I think in court of law I'd probably have my sentence cut due to 'diminished responsibility', but anyway, it's all water under the bridge now except to say that people have been getting to me for no reason and, I must add, that I've not been at fault in any of the arguments. And look, I'd be the first to admit I was wrong (if I was) but you'll have to trust me on this, in all instances, I did nothing wrong. So, I said I'd forget about it: that's it, forgotten.

The cake was good and so were Phil's bacon sandwiches and the weather picked up as the day progressed. Oddly, it was one of those days when it rained while the sun was out...and then the rain stopped but the sun continued to shine.

After the ride I pottered around in the garden trying to pull out a bush (and later succeeding) before going for a swim at the new pool in Waddon. I've probably mentioned this before, but there's a new pool and at 4pm on a Sunday it's completely empty. After the swim, I sat in the armchair watching Diary of a Wimpy Kid, drifting in and out of sleep.

I noticed that Phil reached home around 3.30pm, which means he must have finished around 1pm, probably no later than 1.30pm (good going). He'd driven his Merc down to Brighton on Saturday so that he'd be able to put the bike in the back and drive home... rather than do what I did the last time I took part: I went back with the crowd having put my bike on the lorry bound for Clapham Common. It was back in 2007 and I'll never forget it. The ride was good, my first on the Kona, but when I reached Brighton Pavilion, right at the end, I fell off, grazing my hands and shoulder in the process. I was sore for a few weeks after that and could have wished that coach journey from Brighton further. The worst bit was passing through Croydon en route for London knowing that, had my bike been with me, I could have riden up the road towards home and would have been sitting in front the TV within 30 minutes. But no, I was on the coach back to London and would have to make my way to Clapham Junction railway station to get a train home to East Croydon (they allowed me on) and would then ride from East Croydon home – knackering after a 50-mile ride. Yes, happy days and I must do it again.

A good weekend of cycling. Andy and I covered 30 miles in total and, as always, it was very pleasant. I love that tired feeling that comes with hot weather and exercise. It makes going to bed feel great and I know it's going to feel good tonight.

It's just before 10pm as I write this and it's still fairly light outside. The longest day (June 21st) is not a long way off, a matter of days, but so far the weather could do with being a little more like the summer. The garden's looking good as I sit here, the halogen glow from the computer lighting up the conservatory. The television is on but both our kids are asleep and soon I'll be doing the same. Until next week...

Pix courtesy of Andy Smith – click here for more Andy Smith pix.

Tatsfield bus stop...with fruit cake and cereal bars

Simon Cotter was right: there's nothing better than riding a recently repaired bicycle. Well, perhaps there are a few things that are better, but I know what he means. This morning, I was round at mum's again, but around 0630 I drove back to my place, made the tea and then headed out with a couple of slices of fruit cake, made and supplied by mum.

Lee Mack: Not Going Out.

They say that Mr Kipling makes exceedingly good cakes, but they're no way near as good as my mum's cakes. I've often thought that if ever I run a café, I'll develop a brand around my mum's cakes and sell them exclusively in my caff. Until that day, I'll just enjoy eating them myself. Andy likes them too.

The bike was running smoothly and when we reached the bus stop we chatted about current comedians indulging the revival of the sitcom: Lee Mack with Not Going Out; Jack Dee with Lead Balloon; Miranda Hart with Miranda; Hugh Dennis with the painfully middle class Outnumbered (Lead Balloon is painfully middle class too) and that rather sad effort from Simon Amstell, the great and best ever host of Never Mind the Buzzcocks.

Miranda Hart: Miranda.

Current comics are also embracing the chat show too: Chatty Man, Alan Carr; Rob Brydon's got his own show (piss poor this week, I thought, with Matt Lucas, who's funny in character but not so much in real life) and then there's Paul O'Grady and probably loads more that simply escape my mind.

Conversely, of course, you've chat show hosts who think they're comedians. The jury's out on whether Jonathan Ross is funny – he can be, but then, can't we all?

Discovered last night that the private investigator (Glenn Mulcaire) jailed over the current phone hacking scandal, lives in my home town – Sutton! Fame at last for the old place! Although it was also home to Harry Secombe.

The weather was fine today, although there was a little bit of rain first thing. Andy and I left it fifteen minutes and then it was blue skies and sunshine, so all was well on that front too.

Not much else to report today, except that no pictures were taken, but then again, how many times can you take a photograph of a wooden bus stop?