Lockdown, Part 32: Something Better Change.

The other day I decided to take a walk around the block, just a half-hour stroll to get some exercise having been stuck indoors all day working. As I walked, I found myself thinking back five years or so to the time when, for some reason, the joint below my big toe swelled up and I had great difficulty walking. It lasted for about two or three days, wasn't painful unless I put weight on it and that's about it. However, as I continued to walk - without pain and with no sign of the ailment I last experienced in 2015 - I said myself, something along the lines of: "I seem to have gotten rid of that big toe ailment I had all those years ago, must be cleaner living, not drinking and so forth." And with that I continued on my walk and when it was over I sat around, watched TV, all the usual stuff. The following day I had the ailment again. Now, perhaps it's coincidence, but I'm not so sure and I highly recommend people not to tempt fate because that's what I did, I'm sure. I started thinking about something and for some reason it happened. I hobbled around for the day, went to bed early and when I woke up in the morning, while the joint below the toe was still swollen, I was no longer in pain. Cue a 21-mile bike ride to Westerham during which I experienced no pain, nothing. However, as the day progressed, and I took a drive into darkest Sussex, the pain returned and I found myself limping around again. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone cycling, perhaps I aggravated it, so I resolved not to go today (Sunday). I was planning a ride to Woodmansterne Green to see Bon, sometime around 0700hrs, but in all honesty nothing had been arranged and my original plan had been to meet Andy at the Churchyard, hopefully an hour earlier than normal (at 1000hrs) although again, nothing had been arranged. So when I woke up I decided to give things a rest. Last week I'd cycled around 71 miles (my week is currently running from Sunday to Saturday) so I figured a day off might do me some good, although, even now, at 0928, I still feel like jumping on the bike and going somewhere. I'm going to resist the temptation.

War time memorial in Tatsfield Village last week on the Churchyard Chump

It's now 2019hrs, the Durrell's are on television (far too middle class for my liking) and I'm sitting looking out on the garden. There's blue skies and scattered clouds here and there, it's been a fairly pleasant day. There was a little drizzly rain this morning, but it's warm out and ideal cycling weather. I'm glad I gave it rest, though. I've been obsessing about it of late and what's the point? In fact, I'd say I'm getting irritated about a lot of things and I'm going to blame the 'lockdown'. Not, as I've said before, that I'm in any real state of lockdown. It's just the whole being at home thing, not getting much of a change of scene, although that's not true either: yesterday I drove to Petworth in West Sussex and mooched around a bit. Today I've been taking it easy, but I think it's the whole thing about working from 0800 to 1600, then going cycling (alone) then returning home, having dinner, watching The Sinner, falling asleep and then going to bed (repeat and fade). The swollen foot didn't help matters, but I've been a bit short-tempered (more so when I've missed a ride, although I did pretty well this week). I'm annoyed with the Government, annoyed with the state of popular music (just listen to Capital Radio and you'll know what I mean) and, most of all, I'm fed up with myself for all sorts of reasons. I need to achieve something, but I don't know what. I'm always reading about people doing 'great things' with their lives and I'm starting to feel a little small and insignificant in the greater scheme of things. But so what? Who isn't small and insignificant? I've been thinking back on stuff and berating myself on so many levels, but then, when I think about it, I've done alright one way or another, I've got nothing to complain about and there are plenty of reasons to utter the phrase 'and there, but for the grace of God go I'. I could do with a better night's sleep, that's for sure, perhaps a lot of this is to do with feeling weary and tired and in need of more sleep, get to bed before 2300. I don't know, but I'd better snap out of it.

On the green at Westerham on Saturday morning

On the cycling front, it's been good this week. I managed to get in four rides including yesterday's ride to Westerham, 21.05 miles. I sat on the green in the sunshine chilling before heading home up the hill. Prior to that ride I rode the Slines Oak Slogger, riding up the 269, turning right on to Slines Oak Road all the way to Woldingham and then hanging a left and heading for the golf course, bearing right on to The Ridge, riding to Botley Hill, crossing the 269 and then heading east on Clarks Lane but turning left on to Beddlestead and then tackling Hesiers Hill. In fact, that's not right. The ride before the Westerham journey was the Slines Oak Slogger, but in the other direction (coming down Hesiers and then riding up Slines Oak Road on to the 269, turning left and riding home). I did it the other way around earlier in the week, actually last Sunday if I'm not mistaken. So I rode Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. On Tuesday I rode the Churchyard Chump, a straight ride along the 269 to Tatsfield Village via the Churchyard, but circling it and riding through Tatsfield Village, emerging on Approach Road, turning right at the Bus Stop and heading home via Botley Hill, that was 17 miles. Thursday was the Slines Oak Slogger (17.5 miles) and Saturday was Westerham (21 miles). My week started last Sunday when I rode the Slogger via a steep climb up Hesiers Hill and, as I said, I repeated the ride on Thursday but in reverse. For details of all my rides, click here.

Village cricket on Wisborough Green in West Sussex on Saturday afternoon

There's two kinds of cycling as I've said before: cycling for the fun of it (which was the way Andy and I used to ride at weekends, early in the morning); and cycling to keep fit, which is what I'm doing now, riding alone, not stopping for tea and not really enjoying it. It might be another reason why things aren't right at the moment. Cycling, while fine, is a kind of necessity at present because I'm indoors all day and genuinely need the exercise. Often I have to force myself to go out because I don't particularly want to. The novelty has worn off I guess. I'm also riding in the early evening, which is problematic because we have dinner to sort out on my return and then there's nothing left but to crash in front of the television. The routine is starting to annoy me, perhaps that's it. As the Stranglers used to sing: Something Better Change.

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...

To the Tatsfield Bus Stop on Saturday, but rear wheel puncture aborts Sunday's outing...

Yesterday morning, when I left the house around 0730hrs, I was amazed by how dark it was outside. It was pitch black. I put this down to the fact that the last few rides over the festive period were later than our usual departure time and, for some reason, I thought it would be lighter than it actually was.

Phil texted me just before I left saying he was coming and please wait for him. Not a problem. When I waltzed outside – I didn't 'waltz' outside at all, but it sounds good, even if it does make me sound a little dandy – there he was, bike parked by the kerb. He'd brought along the last of his Mary Berry Christmas cake, which we later enjoyed at the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Yes, despite New Year Resolutions it's still our preferred venue, although yesterday we reached it via the slow route.

An unwelcomed rear wheel puncture put paid to my cycling this morning

The slow route is fine if you want to chat and not worry so much about the traffic, as avid readers will already know, but there is one killer – Beddlestead Lane. Phil was out of condition and cited half a bottle of wine and some cheese and Port on Friday night, plus little in the way of cycling over Christmas – as the chief reason behind his sluggishness.

As we trundled up and along the tiresome Beddlestead Lane we chatted about this and that, but Andy powered ahead. It was a clear day and at one point I could see him in the distance ahead, his rear light flashing like a beacon, as Phil and I continued to chat and 'mosey along' trying not to over-exert ourselves. Eventually Andy returned to see if we were alright and we all cycled along together for the last 200 yards or so to Clarks Lane.

The weather was fine. In fact, the mild weather I've been going on about since November last year continues and while there was a few angry clouds dotted around, all was fine. Or rather it was kind of alright. It had been raining heavily through the night, leaving puddles everywhere – not ideal if, like me, your bike doesn't have any mudguards. Later, when we embarked upon on our ride home, there was a mild drizzle that quickly gathered momentum.

Once at the bus stop, however, out came the tea and biscuits and, of course, three huge slabs of Phil's interpretation of Mary Berry's Christmas cake. The guy is a genius! His culinary expertise knows no bounds – savoury or sweet – and it goes without saying that we all enjoyed the cake. We had a couple of Belvita biscuits too and soon it was time to head home in the aforementioned mild drizzle which, by the time we reached Warlingham Green, was bona fide rain.

Sunday morning...
And now it's Sunday morning and the time is 0646hrs. I was softly awakened at 0600hrs by Radio Four's Something Understood, which today, ironically, was all about 'sleeping on it' – something I wished for at that moment, it has to be said. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and then again around 0500hrs. I still managed to summon up the energy to jump out of bed, skip downstairs (alright, I didn't skip) make tea, toast and Weetabix and sit downstairs, at the dining table, laptop on, writing this post.

Today it's just Andy and I on the ride and, judging by a cursory glance outside, it seems to be pretty dry out there, which is good. Yesterday it rained on and off throughout the day and well into the night, so I'm hoping it'll need a rest this morning. The roads were dry and the trees were still, so I'm hoping for a trouble-free ride.

But then...
When I ventured outside to the garage and unpadlocked the bike I discovered a rear wheel puncture. How frustrating! I'd It would mean an 'abort' text so there would be no riding for me today, more's the pity.

Weather note: it's still fairly pleasant and mild, but of late there's been a lot of rain and today (Sunday) it's definitely turned a little colder and more in tune with standard January weather. As I walked back to the car park in Petworth, West Sussex, around 4pm this afternoon – after an enjoyable lunch in Tiffins – there was a cold wind and rain and it wasn't pleasant, especially considering my leaking Sports Direct trainers.