Mum's last week and then two foggy rides to the bus stop...

I think this is a first: I didn't write about last week's ride... until today. A whole week elapsed and I never sat down and described last weekend's one ride. I got back from Budapest the Friday before last too tired to consider a ride on Saturday. Andy was going to ride to Smallfield but had a problem with his gears, a big problem. The gear level broke and he was stuck in top gear. His Kona is now in the shop being repaired so Andy arrived this morning on his racer. Anyway, let's not talk about today just yet, it's time to discuss last week's ride to mum's. There were two problems for Andy last week: first the gear lever issue, but then, on Sunday, the lock to his garage door was frozen so he couldn't get his bike out.

I had options: cycle to mum's, cycle to Westerham or the bus stop alone or meet Bon on Woodmansterne Green. I opted for riding to mum's and later discovered that Bon had gone to Brixham so it was the right decision.

Purley playing fields around 0730hrs last Sunday morning...very cold...

It was cold outside. Very cold. Remember that Andy's lock had frozen over and that's why I was riding to mum's. I was outside, opening up the garage door when he called to tell me the bad news and because I was outside, in the cold air, and ready to ride, there was little point in going back. I stayed out and decided that, give or take, riding to mum's was probably the least painful experience.

Cold streets, icy roads, frosted grass and grey skies

I rode through Croydon, or rather I skirted Croydon, heading down the Selsdon Road, up Hayling Park Road, around the playing fields at Purley, on to the A23 and through the industrial estate towards Stafford Road, Wallington, and then into Carshalton and mum's place.

The A23 early on Sunday morning last week, it was cold

We sat in the living room talking about this and that, mainly the garden and the fact that mum, who is in her 91st year, was out there chopping back the ivy that had taken over the fence on the right hand side of her house. It goes without saying that I ate some cake, just one slice, and a cup of tea. I think I made myself a second cup, but steered clear of a second slice of cake.

Tea and cake at mum's - making it all worthwhile...

I followed the outward route home, which is far quicker and less painful than riding through the smallholdings towards the Croydon Road, and then turning left and heading into Purley. Going that way means grappling with the south face of West Hill, never a pleasant experience, albeit short-lived.

That was last week's riding in a nutshell and yes, had I not had a late night on Friday, courtesy of easyJet, I'd have riden out on Saturday too, but shit happens.

Today's ride...
It was fairly warm out today, around 5 degrees, so no frost on car windscreens or anywhere else for that matter. I was running late - of course I was, I'm always faffing around at the last minute - but soon I was outside and ready to rock. Well, let's not put it like that. I set off at a steady pace having texted Andy to say I was running a little late but was on my way.

Once at the green we decided to head for the Tatsfield Bus Stop (the slow way). Not ideal, I thought, but perhaps Westerham was a bridge too far today. That said we really ought to try our best to get as many rides to Westerham in as possible. And we need to visit the caff again too, although last Sunday I was in there, at the Tudor Rose, eating a toasted tea cake and sipping tea from a dainty cup. They're losing it a bit in there; whenever the boss is out of town they let things slip and people start to get a little tetchy when they're not being served (I know I am). I don't blame them and last week there was a load of mother hens in there with babies. Huge women, young women, who certainly need not only a diet but some exercise too. As a friend of mine might have said, "Never mind the boat, check out the BMI." There they were with babies and bags and loads of baby stuff, taking up space and being very annoying and clucky. Everybody was being ignored - except them.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, we rode the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop and as we neared the end of Beddlestead Lane we found ourselves in thick fog and it didn't fade out. After drinking tea and chatting we headed home, Andy riding along the Ridge and me hitting the 269, but staying on the off-road path for my own safety. I got home, had some more breakfast (I'd enjoyed porridge and fruit around 0600hrs so now it was scrambled eggs, tomatoes, onion, mushrooms and toast).

Right now I'm writing this while listening to Stewart Copeland talking, enthusing and being inspirational on the television. Last night I watched episode two and now I'm watching episode one, in fact, if I'm truthful I'm now watching episode two again as I'm watching on iplayer so episode one has ended and episode two has kicked in. I could watch Stewart Copeland all day, he's absolutely brilliant, so enthusiastic, you can read the positivity, the enthusiasm, the passion, in his face. He LOVES music and I love that. Please, more Stewart Copeland on the TV. Okay, so episode two is back on and I'm listening to it, but in truth I'm inspired enough to want to put Spotify on and listen to some of my own music, well, not music I've composed, but music I've stored on my iphone. "I'll be happy movin' when I wish to...". Now I've switched to Nantucket Sleighride by Mountain, what a great song. It starts off like a battleship edging out of the estuary into open sea and then meanders along, picking up pace...and then reminds me of Brian Waldren who in turn reminds of Yoda for some reason. Enough, perhaps a bit of heavy funk, like the Fat Back Band and Yum Yum (Gimme Some), yes, that'll do, but I'm restless, I keep flicking the tracks, now The Rimshots (an unfortunate name if ever there was one) but 7654321 (Blow Your Whistle) is brilliant, although again rather unsavoury-sounding. I used to own the single and probably still have it somewhere.

It's getting late, but it's Saturday and everybody is doing their own thing, which I like as it means I can sit here writing, listening to music like Funky Nassau - Part 1, brilliant. "Mini skirts, maxi skirts and afro hairdos" - sometimes music is so good it brings a tear to my eye, like now; I've got to pull myself together. Long Train Runnin' by the Doobie Brothers, that's good, but in all honesty, not right for my mood. Perhaps REM, Pop Song 89. "Should we talk about the weather? Should we talk about the government?"

The plan is to ride tomorrow so let's hope we're not stopped by inclement weather or punctures. I must check the bike later as I rode the off-road track this morning because of the fog. Got to do two rides this weekend!

Sunday's ride - to the Tatsfield Bus Stop!
And yes, we rode the slow way too. It was energising. I even mentioned to Andy that Beddlestead Lane wasn't that bad, because, in a way, it was magical: we had the fog, not as heavy as on Saturday and, in a way, beautiful. As we neared the end of the lane I could see the mobile phone mast, but only just, and the birds could be seen but only at close quarters, it was possible to watch them disappear into the mist. There was a mystical element to it all and when you ad that to the energising effect it all has, then it can only be good.

There was a break in routine. The flask had been replaced with two of those insulated mugs. In other words we both had our own cups and all we had to do was add a teabag.

We watched cyclists disappear and cars vanish and soon it was time for us to do the same. Once again, Andy hit The Ridge and I jumped on the 269's off-road track. It was peaceful, very little traffic and when the fog lifted I went back on the road.

I felt great so when I reached home it was time for a full English of sausages, eggs, toast and tomatoes. Later I hit 'shuffle' on Spotify and, basically, had another day of kind of slobbing around. It was great. And now it's Monday and I'm listening to Maybelline by Chuck Berry. Soon I'll be in the bathroom, getting ready for work and the week will commence.

Round to mum's on Saturday and the fast way to the bus stop on Sunday (we got soaked)

It's great riding to mum's for so many reasons: first, of course, is seeing mum, who is 90 in November. Mum's looking extremely good for her age and she's as bright as a button, according to Bon. I was hoping he would join me on the ride, but he had stuff to do. Mum reads a lot, she eats well, sleeps well and most importantly, she's chilled. You've got to be chilled, that's half the battle. Mum is chilled because of her garden; she's out there most days and it's immaculate (as I'm sure I've said before). I must have arrived just before 0900hrs having left the house around 0810hrs. The weather was perfect and the ride was good, although there's always a bit of traffic as I travel west through the burbs. A lot depends on the time I set out; if I leave earlier, there's less in the way of cars and vans, but once beyond 0800hrs it starts to build up, until I reach Carshalton Beeches, which is when I enter the magical world of mum and fruit cake and Brambly Hedge and Mrs Tittlemouse.

Nice weather Saturday en route to mum's

Sitting in 'the lounge' by the patio window, looking out on the garden, we engage in small talk about forthcoming weddings, what my brother and sister have been up to, how Marion from 'across the road' had her operation and came out of hospital the same day as the op, the woman in the bungalow opposite is a chartered accountant, don't you know, and, of course, we talk about dad, who died on 15 May 2011, but leaves behind a legacy of history books, like Trevelayan's History of England, a red hard back that has seen better days and is held together by red sticky tape. I daren't say I'd like to read it because it would mean taking the hefty tome home on the bike and then not reading it and having nowhere to put it. On the same shelf is the dictionary I presented to dad just a few days before he died. Inside, I had written 'Just in case you're lost for words', which was a pun on the fact that he was never lost for words and the book I had bought him was full of words.

I cut myself a couple of slices of mum's fruit cake, another reason for riding over. There's always fruit cake at mum's and there's always KitKats in the biscuit 'tin'. It's not really a tin, it's a piece of porcelain shaped like a house, which I bought her for Christmas a few years ago. The lid is the roof and when I lift it, there's always KitKats or Penguin bars or something of interest. I stuck with the cake.

Keeping the saddle out of the rain...

I rode back exactly the way I rode out, but the traffic was heavy and I regretted not taking the slightly longer off-road route, but all was well.

On Sunday I heard rain on the conservatory roof and almost aborted the ride, but stopped short of doing so. Instead I wrote "Pissing down here. Thoughts?" God knows what I was expecting, but I followed up with "Might leave it 30 mins and see" followed by "Or 15 minutes". Andy suggested meeting at 0745hrs and we did – and got a bit of a soaking, but it was warm so it didn't matter. In fact, the rain stopped for my ride to the green, but returned as we headed past Knight's Garden Centre en route to our chosen destination, the Tatsfield Bus Stop. It made sense to ride 'the fast way' rather than dawdle along Beddlestead Lane in the pouring rain, and soon we found ourselves under cover and drinking tea.

Next week this blog is 10 years old. Well, the exact birthday is Friday 27 September, but we'll be celebrating (if that's the right word) with a ride to Westerham on Saturday 28th September. Westerham was our first ever destination, but our cycling predates this blog by three or four years as I think we started in 2006 – or was it 2007? I'll have to check it out. Andy said the weather for next Saturday is not looking good, but let's see.

I considered riding back with Andy along the Ridge, but was put off by the hill at the Warlingham end of Slines Oak Road and decided instead to risk the 269. I always risk the 269. The rain had stopped, but when I reached home I was still soaked through and so changed into drier clothing.

The ride is nearly over as I arrive at Sanderstead's village pond...

The weather has changed, the light needs to be switched on when I come down in the morning and it's clear that winter is coming. In a month from now the clocks go back and we enter what I always describe as 'our weather'. I don't know why dull and overcast weather characterises our rides, but it does. I woke up this morning, for example, to the sound of rain, meaning I won't be able to ride around the block, although it's all gone quiet so perhaps it will be possible.

All-in-all, a good weekend of cycling, probably around 28 miles in total. Yesterday (Monday) I rode around the block and I was hoping today too, but the weather dictates otherwise.

Sunday morning ramblings ahead of the ride...

It might seem a little premature to start saying that summer is about to leave the building as quickly as it came in, but for some reason I think it will. Today, for example, is Sunday 1st September and while I know everybody likes to cling to the sunshine by talking up a possible Indian summer (which means a bit of sunshine here and there, but cooler temperatures) I think we're on the roll into winter and, dare I say it, the countdown to Christmas, which will happen within weeks. How depressing. Add to that the prospect of Brexit and a General Election, and it's not looking good.

The beginning of Ridge Langley - a magical place...

I haven't said too much about it, but for the past fortnight I've been cycling daily: my usual NVL rides at the weekends and then 36-minute rides around the leafy suburbs where I live, normally at around 0645hrs. The extra week-day rides are doing me good (or at least I think they are) and the temperature has hovered around 56 degrees Fahrenheit, warm enough to fend off the introduction of a fleece, although I feel that's coming, and the big question on my lips is how long will I keep this up? How long will I feel motivated to leave the house early and ride around the block. I had one day last week when I  stayed indoors, having noticed that it was raining, but that evening I went out and then again the following morning, giving me an incredibly energised feeling that morning at work. I think it was last Thursday. I'm hoping I can keep things together as the temperatures fall and the skies darken and that I'll still be riding daily when Christmas trees begin to appear in the bay windows of the houses of Norfolk Avenue and the surrounding area.

The ride I've worked out for myself involves as many hills as possible: there's the slight hill of Ellenbrige, the steeper hill of Elmfield and the steady, but equally punishing hill of Norfolk Avenue, which I repeat on the latter half of the ride. The best place to cycle through, however, is Ridge Langley, especially if the sun in shining. I was going to buy a house here at around the time I bought the house I live in, but my offer wasn't accepted. What I like about Ridge Langley is its peace and quiet. In a way it's cut off from the hubbub of the surrounding area; there are no shops close-by and not much traffic either because it's a kind of large cul-de-sac or no through road, it can't be used as a short-cut to anywhere and basically loops round and deposits me back on Arundel Avenue, a road that links with Norfolk Avenue, looks very similar in terms of the appearance of the houses and can get very confusing as, at times, it's easy to feel lost. Both roads have similar sharp bends and there's no way of differentiating Norfolk from Arundel and the two roads, I'm guessing, are named after the Duke of Norfolk and Arundel Castle where I think he is based (or was, I'm not sure). Perhaps Arundel Castle is his ancestral home.

Riding the off-road track from mum's to my place...

But there's more to Ridge Langley than solitude and birdsong and peace and quiet, it has a kind of retro feel about it and takes me back to my childhood and the sunny days and the long summers of the 1970s on the south coast, the weirdness of Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells and the hazy, cornfields and cows evoked by Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. It reminds me of sitting on the beach, aged 15, with my Grundig C410 tape player listening to the former while awaiting the arrival of my parents and younger brother and sister before we embarked upon two weeks of inflatable boats and visits to a beachside café a short walk along the beach. Places like Ridge Langley are like time machines, they take me back and hold me there until the bike emerges on Arundel Avenue and I wind my way around to Norfolk Avenue and back home. It adds a little magic to what might have been a pretty average ride, but I wonder what the winter will bring?

I was running late and Andy was waiting at the green. We rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard and the ride was pretty energetic. Clearly my last two weeks of cycling had done some good, I felt a lot more energised than normal. We sat on our bench talking about Greta Thunberg (I'm not a fan) and rumour has it that they had to fly in crew to return the boat to wherever it had come from, not very environmentally friendly if you ask me. And of course we discussed Brexit, we always do, and it was the same old arguments. Once the tea was finished we took a shot of our bikes with the church as a backdrop. Every Sunday, a World War ll Spitfire takes off from nearby Biggin Hill in pursuit of a light aircraft, the two planes climb and then the Spitfire somehow positions itself almost on top of the light aircraft, no more than a few feet above it. They carry on and I'm guessing they eventually return to Biggin Hill. It was time for us to return to our respective homes. We rode up the hill towards the Botley Hill Farmhouse and then Andy branched off at The Ridge, heading home via Woldingham, and I carried on along the 269, reaching home just before 1000hrs.

A Belgian bun in M&S Croydon - I shouldn't have

On Saturday I rode over to mum's. There was a fair amount of traffic on the road. Mum's alright, she's got a leaking (make that 'dripping') kitchen tap, but it's nothing to worry about and she's calling somebody over to fix it. If I was a plumber, I'd do it, but I'm not. Mum's a bit of a worrier and she didn't sleep well on Friday night because of her leaking tap. I rode back the 'slow way' avoiding most of the traffic and riding the off-road tracks as much as possible. When I reached the Purley Downs Road I decided to ride its entire length and then carried on up Sanderstead Hill before descending towards home along Church Way. I reached home around 1100hrs.

It's strange what keeps people awake. For mum it's a leaking tap, for me it's waking up after a fretful dream (I have many of them) and then not being able to get back to sleep, like this morning. I woke up around 0400hrs and didn't really get anymore sleep. I was awake at 0557hrs, three minutes before the alarm was due to go off. I had porridge and fresh fruit for breakfast plus a mug of tea and then I went out on the bike.

Our bikes in the churchyard...

The master at work...

Great weather at the moment: blue skies, no cloud and fairly warm. Let's hope it stays that way.

To Woodmansterne Green and then over to mum's...

Yesterday the sun shone brightly, for the first time in a while. They're saying June 2019 is the wettest on record and I can believe it. Last week it rained on and off most days and there's been cloud and low temperatures, but Saturday was fantastic. Andy wasn't riding and I'd arranged to meet Bon on Woodmansterne Green. I've written about the ride over there before, it's fairly suburban in nature, but in the sunshine who cares? In fact, it took me back to cycling as a kid for some reason, there was lingering vibe brought about by the scented hedgerows and the warm breeze.

Jon was there when I arrived. We found a bench and opened up the tea. No biscuits. It was very pleasant just lapping up the early morning sunshine and then contemplating a ride over to mum's.

Bon, Mum and me...

Individual Twix fingers proved to be my downfall. Four of them. I need to exert a little more self-control.

Mum was getting a quote for a new back door. She's opted for aluminium. A man arrived. He was smartly dressed and sported a shiny bald head. He said he'd get a quote over Monday and that if she chose aluminium, it would probably take a week to arrive in the store.

Bon left, but I stayed for a cup of tea, not that I hadn't already had my fair share of tea back on the green. This time, in addition to the usual flask of hot water, I'd brought along one of those stainless steel thermal cups. I'd picked it up in Pittsburgh and it sported the logo for a company called Centro-Metalcut. I'm assuming they're a steel fabricator, but let's continue with the rule of keeping workstuff off the blog.

I rode back the way I came, but more warily. The traffic had intensified and while there were bursts of off-road track, when I reached Foxley Lane I kept my wits about me; there were moments when cars were far too close so I kept checking behind me to get a handle on what was going on. Soon I found myself on Purley's quieter back streets and then there was West Hill, a steep climb, but short-lived. I reached home at 1110hrs.

Sunday's ride...
Andy and I rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard, the slow way, and it was a very pleasant trip. The weather was a little chilly first thing in the morning, but it picked up, as did my hay fever. The key is not to rub your eyes, I told Andy as I rubbed my eyes. It's like having grains of sand in my eyes, that's how it feels, but I coped with it and soon we were on the bikes and heading up the hill towards Botley where I normally part company. On this occasion, however, I felt like a safer ride home away from the 269 so we rode along The Ridge into Woldingham and parted company on the Slines Oak Road. The hill at the end wasn't too bad and I reached home around 1000hrs.

Andy at the churchyard, Sunday 23 June

The pond at the top of Slines Oak Road

Over to mum's...

The plan had been to ride to Woodmansterne and see Bon, but he had a rear wheel puncture to fix and needed to take the bike to the shop for a new tyre. I thought he might have it done and dusted and ready for a ride, but when I sent him a text this morning it was not the case. So I lolled around and almost didn't go out - or rather I almost went out in the car instead. Fortunately, when I got outside the weather hit me square in the face, it was a wonderful day and to visit mum by car was sinful so I nipped back inside, grabbed the rucksack and rode off.

Mum in the garden, she's 90 in November

I hung a right on to West Hill, then a left on to Essenden, a right on Mayfield, a left on to the Upper Selsdon Road and then left into Jarvis, past Martin's gaff and on towards the Brighton Road. I turned right and then first left and rode up Hayling Park Road, quite a steep hill, and when I reached the mini roundabout at the top I crossed the Pampisford Road and skirted the Purley Playing Fields, vast expanses of grass peppered here and with white goal posts. Soon I reached the A23 and turned right, but then I cut left through a kind of industrial estate, emerging on the Stafford Road, close to Ozzie's cafe. I turned left and rode through Wallington, past the bike shop, crossing the lights at the top of the high street and heading downhill towards the mini roundabout at Boundary Road. I crossed into Stanley Park Road and soon the serenity of Carshalton Beeches epitomised by the peace and quiet of Crichton Road. I was getting close to mum's world: the Village Bakery, Vinoteca Italiana and free-wheeled down Park Hill. The lights at the Windsor Castle were red, so I mounted the pavement, turned left past the pub and then rejoined the road to race towards the BP garage, Marks & Spencer's Simply Food, and a right turn into Alma Road. I like Alma Road with its speed bumps and parked cars. At the bottom end, St Philomena's Convent School and a left turn, past the infamous Dog Shit Alley, under the railway bridge and then a left turn. Almost there, I thought, seeing the maisonettes where my life had started. Mum and dad moved when I was about three years old, but my early life had been at 3a Rossdale. We didn't move far, just up the hill and that's where I found myself now, riding up towards mum's. The road looks roughly the same as it's always looked, perhaps more cars than there used to be.

Fortunately, she wasn't in the garden, although she told me she had just come in to do something, luckily for me. Tea and fruit cake were next and I cut myself an ample slice and followed mum into the garden. The weather was wonderful: blue skies, white clouds, planes circling around Heathrow, all reminding me of my childhood years, in the paddling pool when the sun dipped behind the clouds and the sound of an invisible, crying jet made everything seem temporarily depressing. But not today. Memories of dad in his yellow bush hat, blue shirt and shorts flooded back to me, when the kids were younger and we would sit at the top of the garden, tea and cake and possibly a couple of biscuits, the sun shining, dad explaining something or discussing whatever was going on at the time or talking to Max about the cricket. The garden was in full summer bloom, elderberry trees, dad's oak tree, everything was raging with life as I sat there sipping tea and contemplating another slice of cake and another cup of tea. "Don't worry, mum, I'll do it," I said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. I emerged five minutes later, carrying another another slice of cake and another cup of tea.

Off-road track on the ride home...

We chatted about various things, but superficially. Family stuff. How's so and so? What's X or Y up to? Did you hear about...? That kind of thing and soon it was time to head back home. I could have repeated my outward journey, but knowing how traffic mounts up as the day progresses, I headed instead for Carshalton Beeches High Street, noticing a new Italian restaurant where once an Indian restaurant had stood. I climbed Waverley Way in a low gear and turned right when I reached the top and followed Beeches Avenue, which morphed into Woodmansterne Road and then I went off-road until I reached the Croydon Road. There were lots of joggers on the off-road path plus a few cyclists and one large, female dog walker who, in contrast to her own size, had two small dogs. At the end of the path I briefly rejoined the Croydon Road, but managed to cross it and ride off-road all the way to Foxley Lane in Purley, a once pleasant road that has since been messed with; now there are blocks of flats under construction here and there. Huge houses with huge, mossy gardens, once for sale, have been bought by developers and turned into ugly dwellings set back from the road. Not nice, but it's happening everywhere. Foxley Lane can be quite dangerous, especially where it is joined by Plough Lane. I keep my distance from parked cars and I'm always looking over my shoulder to see what's coming along behind me. Soon I'm at Cycle Republic and I join the Pampisford Road heading for Fennie's, a children's day nursery. I cross the A23. Not far to go now. I weave my way around some of Purley's backstreets until I reach the Purley Downs Road, but hang a left on to Norman Road and ride most of it no hands. The road morphs into Florence Road and then Kendall Avenue and then I'm on the 269, a road that features in most of our rides, except that I'm at the other end of it where it has a name, Sanderstead Road. It runs all the way to Edenbridge. I ride up the hill and turn left on to West Hill, a steep climb up its south face,  past another block of flats under construction on the right. Soon I'm home and it's 1115hrs, time for a slice of bread and a cup of tea.

No cycling Saturday, but a ride to mum's on Sunday...

I aborted on Saturday due to a broken night of sorts, or rather a late night caused by various disturbances - or rather one in particular, but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that I was keen to ride on Sunday, although Andy had other ideas: a late night for him on Saturday prompted an abort text that I picked up the following morning. When an abort text is received, there are often mixed feelings. First, there's that thought of 'good, I'll chill out and not go out'. This is highly tempting, especially if I've made myself cosy, sitting at the table, blogging while listening to music. Then there's the complete opposite feeling, that of getting out there regardless, although this is often tempered by a sense of bewilderment in terms of wondering where to go: Botley, the Bus Stop, a longer ride to Westerham and so on. Often, bewilderment leads to no ride at all and a kind of resignation that it's best to simply take it easy and leave any form of cycling until the following week. But I knew what I was going to do, I was riding to mum's, or possibly Woodmansterne Green to see Bon. I emailed Bon to say let's meet on the green, but got no reply and decided to ride to mum's. It wasn't until I reached Wallington that he called me. Bon was also riding to mum's and I was only 10 minutes away so I said I'd see him there. I rode down to the mini roundabout on Boundary Road, up the hill, past Stanley Park school and into Carshalton Beeches, hanging a right on Crichton Road and riding down towards the Village Bakery where I turned right and sailed down the hill to the lights at the Windsor Castle, bumping on to the pavement as the lights turned red and continuing along the Carshalton Road until I reached the Alma Road turn-off. There are speed bumps on Alma, but they're more fun than irritating if you're riding a bike. I swung left on to Shorts and into Westmead Corner and then up the hill to mum's.

Blossom trees in bloom on Purley Playing Fields early Sunday morning

As always the house was in good order and mum was too, her recent hip replacement operation a complete success. I made myself a cup of tea and cut myself a slice of fruit cake and then headed to the living room and sat down. Mum and I chatted about this and that and then Bon arrived. The light conversation continued and was followed by a stroll in the garden where Bon had uprooted the last of the two conker trees at the top (and showed me a video of mum helping out, demonstrating her amazing recovery). I had another piece of cake and eventually Bon and I headed off together and rode all the way to the Croydon Road together along the off-road path that flanks the Oaks Park. I then continued off-road until I reached Foxley Lane in Purley, making my way through the backstreets and then tackling the South Face of West Hill, a short but strenuous climb that rounds off any ride to mum's or Woodmansterne. I was home by 10 o'clock and 12 miles better off than I would have been had I decided not to take a ride. Until next week...

A misty start - another view of Purley Playing Fields early Sunday morning

Back problem means little cycling

Wednesday 30th August: Back in 2005 I had a back problem. I'm not one for back problems but I had one and it lasted for months, getting steadily worse as it progressed. By the end of it I had keeled over to my right and had difficulty walking, but the main problem was a lack of sleep. I had to take Nurofen to sleep and spent an inordinate amount of time sleeping in the spare room. After visiting an osteopath, having an X-ray and taking Nurofen, not forgetting cancelling a trip to Portland, Oregon, much to the dismay of my employer at that time, I woke up one morning and it had gone. I no longer had a back problem and for 12 years it didn't return, until now. It's back, but it's not as severe as before. I can sleep at night, put it that way, I can walk around, I can ride a bike, but the big issue is sitting down. If I sit down for any length of time I stiffen up and it takes me a while to walk properly. But listen, it's not that bad. In fact, as I write this, it's improved a lot. Somebody once said that the best way to treat a back problem is to pretend you don't have a problem. That's kind of what I've been doing, but I thought it best to give the cycling a miss over the bank holiday weekend.

Off-road route coming back from mum's

I rode over to mum's on Saturday following the usual route via Wallington and Carshalton Park and the off-road route on the return journey, but that was it on the cycling front.

The original plan on Saturday was to see Jon at Woodmansterne Green, but that never happened so I rode to mum's for tea and cake instead, but later than usual. I left the house at gone 0800hrs and didn't get home until 1030hrs.

The weather over the weekend was amazing although right now, at 0723hrs on Wednesday morning, 30th August, it's dull and cloudy and rain is threatened throughout the day.

I won't be riding for a couple of weeks.