This and that...

It's around 0300hrs and I'm lying on my back in bed, or rather on the bed. Suddenly, I'm awake and it'll take me awhile to get back to sleep. Outside I can hear the rain, that's probably what woke me up, but now I'm hoping I don't remember whatever it is that I've been fretting about otherwise I'll never get back to sleep, although it's odd how suddenly I awake, unaware that I did fall asleep, and it's something like 0630 and I should be getting up to go to work. A lot depends on what day it is: if it's a Thursday or a Friday then I can afford to lie in, but in all honesty, once I'm awake there's little point remaining in bed. I get up, go downstairs, make breakfast and then sit and watch mainstream television channels, normally GMTV between 0630 and 0700 and then possibly a bit of the hilarious Mike Graham Show on YouTube, although it's highly addictive and that's the last thing I need when work, in some shape or form, beckons.

Pricey cake from GAIL's.

I haven't written for a long time and there's no real excuse or reason why not, I just haven't. I have, by and large, kept the cycling up. Last weekend, for example, I rode to Oxted and back, 20 miles, stopped for a cup of tea at Caffe Nero, finished off Hard Rain Falling by Don Carpenter and now I'm reading another 'rock' book, this time Welcome to Your Life by Roland Orzabal of Tears for Fears fame. In fact, today, I walked around two miles or so to Filtr, a coffee shop (a bit pricey for what you get) and sat there reading. I even managed to walk back and miss the rain. Yes, despite a major heatwave which started at the end of May and continued up until a day or two ago, the rain looks as if it's coming back as we head towards autumn, although I don't particularly want to talk autumn and then, inevitably, Christmas and how many shopping days there are to go, that's just plain depressing.

So the cycling has continued. The weekend before last I'd started riding non-stop, doing what I think I once called the Slines Oak Slogger, a 15-mile 'slog' up Slines Oak Road and then through Woldingham and down towards Botley Hill before heading along the 269 to Warlingham and home. Not a bad idea doing a non-stop ride as there's no lolling around in coffee shops and, therefore, no expenditure on tea and cakes, although on the latter, I had been doing really well in not having them, I literally stopped for some time until, that is, yesterday when I found myself in GAIL's eating one of their tiny little oval-shaped cakes with pink icing (see photo above). GAIL's is too pricey for what it is, like most places, but I always feel ripped off in GAIL's because it's too expensive for a chain operation masquerading as an independent, pure and simple. In fact, we try not to go to GAIL's and were foolish to enter one in Kew Gardens yesterday when there was so much choice from the independent sector. Still, you live and learn I guess. Actually, a word on Kew Gardens. The last time I was there, I was standing outside of a music shop and next to me was Pete Townshend of the Who. The music shop has gone, much to my dismay.

The much maligned front wheel.

A key thing of late has been walking, lots of it. Take this week, for example, since Monday I have walked roughly 13 miles, last week it was even more, I think it was 18 miles. I have a local route but I also walk back from the station on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Today is Friday and I walked roughly seven miles. All I've got to do now is get the swimming started up again and I'll be quids in, so to speak.

Tomorrow I hope to be up and out of the house on the bike. It's crucial not to sit around in the morning as it gets later and later and I end up doing a non-stop ride rather than a longer Oxted ride with a cup of tea thrown in for good measure. I've got to force myself not to watch YouTube, which, I'll admit, is becoming a problem, it's addictive, and the trouble is I tend to watch a lot of people shouting the odds about the UK and how it's governed, which, while entertaining, can become tiresome in the extreme.

I wouldn't say I'm on top of the world at the moment, I'm not. Up until relatively recently I was getting a good night's sleep, but now not so much. I'm still letting things get to me, which is wrong and it needs to be addressed, but how I just don't know. I need a day or two in the capsule to get my sleep back in order, a dose of Radio 3's Night Tracks wouldn't go amiss, anything to reset the clock or get myself back to a default setting.

Upended bike on parched lawn.

The bikes have been fine, though. The Kona is used occasionally and the Specialized is still my main go-to bicycle. I did have a puncture problem the other day, one of those occasions when something goes wrong and I end up in the shop asking them to fix it for me. It started when I bought a new tyre, which was okay, but it's always a little bit of a hassle getting it on the wheel. I was doing this in the back garden during the heat, the lawn totally brown. Anyway, somehow I pinched the inner tube the tyre wouldn't inflate because it was punctured. I bought another one.  There were far too many 'leeches' on the original inner tube that's why I bought a new one in the first place, but then, I ruined the new one and had to buy another. There was another problem, however, and that involved the wheel itself. We're talking the front wheel, which is normally the easiest when compared with the rear wheel, which involves the chain. I don't know what happened. I had to make sure that the wheel spun freely, but it didn't and I had to mess around trying to get it right, which I couldn't. God knows what happened, but I ended up having to buy a new thread thingy, a quick release set to give it its technical name and the guy in the shop fixed it for me. Very annoying. I always feel defeated if I have to let somebody else fix it, but it's working well now so all is good; there's a new inner tube, a new tyre and a new quick release set. I have another one should there be a problem with the rear wheel.

As the weather has, to a degree broken, my summer habit of buying two large bottles of Highland Spring sparkling water is slowly stopping. I used to sit out in the garden sipping the chilled drink as I read until darkness fell and then I'd come in and watch TV. Well, now, instead of the usual two bottles I only buy one and I'm guessing it'll only be a matter of time before that little habit disappears altogether. I'll try not to let it die. There's nothing worse than chilled (or ultra cold) water when the heat has gone, but if I can keep it up I will as drinking water is good for you and I'm partial to sparkling mineral water. For some reason I've gone off of drinking Pellegrino.

Dr. Michael Mosley once said that it was good to drink a glass of water with every meal. Well, I have one in the morning and I'm still working on having one in the evening too.

Two great rides...to Westerham and Oxted

I've been meaning to ride to Westerham for some time and now I've done it. I had, however, intended to leave the house at 0700hrs, like in the good old days, but didn't get on the road until around 0830hrs. The weather was good. In fact, I was definitely over-dressed with a fleece and a high-viz top I'd bought for a bargain in one of those 'outdoor' shops in Redhill, £23 reduced from £60! Not a bad deal.

Bike with puncture, Costa Westerham

I followed the route of old, up the 269, turning left just past Botley Hill and heading down Clarks Lane, except that instead of simply following the road around and into Westerham I turned left on to Pilgrim's Lane and headed for the Velo Barn. I'll admit that it was on my mind to go there instead but there were so many people arriving from various cycling clubs that I pushed on into the town... and discovered that I had a puncture, the first one in simply ages. Fortunately, it was a front wheel puncture and not a rear wheel affair. The bike limped into Westerham and I parked up outside of Costa and went inside to order a large English Breakfast tea. I took it outside and sat next to the bike. The tyre had completely flattened and it was just a matter of time before I set about fixing it. The weather was amazing, bright sunshine and I spent an inordinate amount of time simply sipping tea and people watching until the moment arrived: I stood up, wheeled the bike to a spot where I had room to turn it upside and begin the boring job of fixing it.

God knows why but I discovered that I didn't have any tyre levers and felt even more deflated than my front tyre. I thought long and hard. Should I go into the Costa and ask for a teaspoon? Should I wander around the stalls of a summer fayre that had been erected on the green and ask somebody for something that might do the job, or...do I ask a fellow cyclist. I chose the latter option and was handed a tyre lever. The guy in question was going in for a coffee, he'd cycled from West Wickham and had been down in Sevenoaks. We chewed the fat about the various hills nearby, like Titsey Hill and White Lane and I think he was fairly impressed by the fact that I was able to do them both with relative ease.

Outside of Caffe Nero in Oxted on Sunday morning...

I fixed the puncture, handed back the tyre lever and headed for home via the antiques shop en route. In side I spotted two amazing-looking picnic sets from the 1950s, like something out of Enid Blyton, and a vintage hose reel, a little rusty, perhaps, but then rusty stuff is all the rage in gardens these days. I wandered deeper into the shop and spotted a 1930s policeman's bicycle, reduced from £450 to just £250. Quite a bargain. I even spotted a Tracey Island toy. 

The tree in all its glory...

The ride back was par for the course and on Sunday I rode to Oxted, going down White Lane instead of Titsey Hill. I stopped at Caffe Nero and ordered a pain aux raisin and a cappuccino and again sat outside people watching until it was time to go. My route home avoided riding up Titsey Hill which I simply wasn't in the mood for; instead I road along Pilgrim's Lane to Rectory Lane and then rode up the hill. In all honesty, the exertion was the same and I should have simply rode up the hill like I normally do. I sped down the 269, along the Limpsfield Road and home and then went out and bought a mower. 

I write this on Monday 16th September. I'm taking the week off, but today is a sad day as our tree in the back garden is coming down. We don't particularly want it to be felled but it's going to be. I really don't like taking out trees. In fact, I've never done it before but our tree is getting out of control and it can't really be trimmed. There are plenty of problems all to do with lack of sunlight, not so much in other people's gardens (or ours) but the tree is sapping the energy of everything in its vicinity; and while it's not a big deal in our garden either, the tree has expanded sideways, it's making the grass mossy and is simply has to go. It's sad.

It's now 1033hrs and all the greenery is off of the tree, the actual greenery was only a few inches in depth meaning that had we trimmed it, the tree would be brown and, we're told, would never green-up again, so it had to come down. Right now it looks like a huge magic mushroom leaning slightly to the right from where we can see it from the house. There's three guys doing the job and I have to say that I wouldn't mind being a tree surgeon. In fact, when I was a kid I used to want to be a tree surgeon. Why, I don't know, but there used to be a company called Pennell ('the tree people') and they must have been fairly active around where I lived in Carshalton, hence my desire to be a tree surgeon. It's actually quite a cool job, you spend all your time in the fresh air, up a tree with a chain saw, I love it! And it's quite cool to be able to say, if asked, that you're a tree surgeon. You could possibly start off just saying you're a surgeon and then adding the tree bit later, but hey, I love the idea of being a tree surgeon, I'd hate to be a medical surgeon.

The tree at 1047hrs on 16th September.

Any way, it's had to come down, more's the pity, but that's the way of the world, it's not down yet, but that'll be the next part of the job. They're having coffees and Jaffa Cakes at this present time, but work will resume shortly. It's 1041 and work has restarted.

It won't be long before all trace of the tree is gone; it's been part of the house for many years and we've really enjoyed it's company. We've watched it grow and we loved it and we still do but there comes a time when things have to be done and that's about all I can say. I'm now looking at rhododendrens and possibly even another tree, one that won't grown so high, but let's see. 

Yesterday I bought a new mower, it arrives on Thursday and the grass will need a jolly good cut after that, then we'll start looking at how we can improve the space vacated by the tree.

I wasn't expecting the garden to look very good after the tree came down and I was expecting to be exposed to all the neighbours in the next street, but no, thanks to other shrubs and bushes behind the tree we took down, it looked okay. In fact, it looked great. The garden was sunnier than before and there were no big shadows cast across the lawn that were there before. So, in reality, while we all thought it was going to be a mistake, it wasn't, and we're definitely going to make the area look better with a few new shrubs and bushes, but, as I say, all is fine and, when all is said and done, the tree should have come down a long time ago. Look, I hate taking trees out and I'm hoping I can put one back in now that I've actually had one removed. I'll leave it there for now, actually, I'll simply leave it there, it's done, it's dusted, the tree won't be coming back and on one level, yes, it's sad, but on another level we can fix the grass, the neighbour's happy and we're happy.

Slapstick follows me everywhere!

Wherever I go, slapstick follows me. Something as simple as fixing a puncture! First, off comes the wheel, the rear wheel, now that's a shit show in itself, but off it comes and I figure I'll remember how to get it back on later. Thanks to Halfords no longer selling 'leeches' I'm forced to use 'Scabs'. Horrible things! First, how the fuck do you get them out? Virtually impossible, but the other day, when I first fixed the very same puncture, I managed it... only to discover that I had a flat tyre the very next day. Cold weather kept me out of the garage, away from the bike and in the warm for the next God knows how long, easily over a week. But now the decent weather has returned. Decent? Well, yes, by comparision. So I'm out there again today, the wheel comes off and this time I place the inner tube into a bowl of hot water to check whether or not I had more than one puncture. It turns out to be the same one. Bubbles escaped from underneath the 'scab' proving to me that the scabs are rubbish. I tried placing another scab on the area where the bubbles were escaping from, but no good. This meant just one thing: I'd have to buy a new inner tube and while at it also buy a new tyre and inner tube: £24 the lot from Halfords. And I'm back in the room! Well, the garage, armed with a new tyre and a new inner tube. The tyre's fine and so is the inner tube, just a case of getting it out of the plastic packaging. I know! I'll break a hole in the plastic with a small key on my keyring. But where is my key ring? It must be in my coat which is hanging off the back of the lawnmower. I check. Nope, not there. I must have left it on a shelf somewhere. Nope. In the garage door? Nope. Well, it can't be indoors as I used it to open the garage. I then spend the next half an hour searching the garage, but without success. Where is it? I start to imagine myself sheltering in the garage, unable to pick up my family from the railway station because I don't have my keys. What amazes me is this: I checked my coat thoroughly, every pocket, and it wasn't there, but then on checking it a second time, it's there. Ridiculous. So I go back into the house and using a knife from the draw in the kitchen I open the packaging and then head back into the garage. All I have to do now is put the tyre on the wheel and then the new inner tube inside it. It took an age to prise the tyre on to wheel and then I spent an inordinate amount of time stuffing the inner tube inside the tyre. Once I'd completed the task I then noticed that some of the tyre bulged out when I pumped it up so I had to deflate the tyre and mess around until it all went back without bulges. I pumped it up and managed (unusually) to get the wheel back on the frame. Thank the Lord! Seriously! Thank. The. Lord. I closed up the garage and then decided it was time for a walk, albeit a brief one, to Coco & Nut, my favourite coffee shop (it's about 10 minutes away). I ordered a cappuccino and a toasted chicken and pesto sandwich and then sat there reading for around half an hour or so. After a while I realised it was time to go. I was just glad that this time I got a table. The last time I walked here (on the slippery icy pathways) I was cheesed off to discover that the place was full-to-bursting (no seats at all). I could have sat outside, but it was cold so I didn't bother. I simply trudged home, book in rucksack untouched.

Icy roads en route to an indie coffee shop last week, far easier today!

Today, however, has been good. Once I'd completed a few tasks, one involving the aforementioned puncture, the other taking a faulty product back to IKEA, I decided to listen to music and found, completely by accident, a band called Husker Du, an American rock/punk band who have since disbanded, but not before releasing a number of amazing albums during the 80s. I'm amazed I'd never heard of them before, but there you go. So I've been listening the Husker Du and Judas Priest and the Pixies (Debaser) on a continuous loop almost until I was told no more. I get that totally. While I could listen to Debaser over and over and over again, I appreciate that it's not to everybody's taste and I had a good run so I was happy to switch it off and watch a bit of Dad's Army. I think that I'm at last managing to chill out, ie come down from the stress of working. I'm so glad I had holiday to take off otherwise I'd be at work all this week. As it happens I'm not.

I'm hoping to get out on the bike tomorrow. I'm hoping that when I open the garage door I won't find another puncture. The inner tube I've bought is one of those slime-based products that fix the puncture automatically when it happens. Let's hope, that's all I can say. I'm planning a much-needed ride to Oxted. The new tyre is pretty basic, but it does the trick and it's got more tread on it than the one I've taken off.

Messing around with saddles and another ride to the Velo Barn...

Sunday, Tatsfield Village, sausage sarnies, Phil, new bike, talked about giving up alcohol, and motorbikes, drank tea, great times, rode back via the Ridge, had a nasty puncture incident, took ages to fix, but got there in the end. Reached home late, gone 1130hrs then drove to Slindon in West Sussex. 

It's looking like a no-cycling kind of week. First, there's the rain, second there's the fact that I decided I could fix a new saddle on to my bike, I couldn't. I brought the seat post into the house, managed to get the old saddle off, but getting the new one back on is one hell of a job especially as I managed to take all the fittings off and now can't get them back on again. I should have realised that I'm a complete cock when it comes to fixing things, especially bikes. I can manage a puncture, even a rear wheel puncture, but the fiddly nature of fixing the saddle means that if you gave me a bike and a saddle and asked me to fix it while staying on a desert island, I'd still be on the island today, I'd be there for months, if not years, that's how bad I am. I don't particularly want this to be the case, but that's the way it is. I wish I could go on a bike maintenance course, like an in-depth course, and learn the whole lot, but I don't have the time or the money so I'm going to have to rely upon bike shops for the foreseeable future.

Last Sunday's puncture on the way back from Tatsfield Village

Rain has been another reason for not riding, although it's more a case of perception and believing the weather app on the iphone than the reality of things. I was in the office yesterday. Now, don't get me wrong, I couldn't have cycled to the office Wednesday because there was no saddle on the bike, but the chief reason I'd ruled it out initially was the weather. The app said rain later in the day so I thought, well, I could ride in and train it back, but decided not to bother. As it turned out, when it was time to head home the weather was fine and it remained that way. I could have riden in and back and that would have been 24 miles under my belt, but no. It's now Thursday and I've only got 18 miles in the bank and a bike without a saddle.

And the saddle situation gets more complicated. The new Daway saddle arrives a day early and wow is it big! It's huge. A bit like the sort of seat you'd find on a vintage Harley Davidson or Indian motorcycle. I'm thinking this is going to be very comfortable, but being a total nob in the technical department, I'm forced to head down to Cycle King to get it fixed on, so I jump in the car with the saddle and seat post and visit the shop. They fix it in place and charge me £8, no problem, and a job well done. So I get home and put the seat post back on the frame and because the saddle is so huge I can no longer touch the ground when sitting on the bike. It gets worse. I discover that my seat post won't go down any further, there's something inside the frame that stops it. This is all very annoying and I start thinking about buying a hacksaw, but then think better of it. To be honest, the seat post issue has arisen before, even with the old Selle Royal saddle, which proved to be not so royal after all (it punctured, hence my need to replace it). There appears to be some kind of bracket inside the frame that prevents my seat post from being any lower, meaning that whenever I stop the bike, at lights etc, I have to make sure I'm off the saddle or I'll simply keel over. So now I'm thinking about a new seat post.

New saddle and a crossbar bag, my new purchases...

To be honest, the Daway 'comfortable' saddle isn't that comfortable and I find myself getting a little annoyed with the Selle Royal product, which I thought was great until it punctured and I had to tape it up. I have to start looking for a bank statement that has details of the original purchase as I can't remember whether I bought it on Amazon or elsewhere. It's still under guarantee so I contact Amazon (after finding a bank statement entry for 10 December 2019 stating I bought it for £45) to see if I can get a refund. In short, I can, so as I'm 'chatting' with the site's online chatbot (actually, I think it's a real person, it has to be, they understand me) I decide to get the Selle Royal refund AND a refund for the Daway too. All fine, except that the bank card I used to buy the Selle is now null and void so I'm offered a gift card instead of the money. Not a bad idea as I need to buy a new saddle so I accept. Then I set about buying a new saddle. I noted with anger, however, that the Selle Royal was now £20 more expensive than when I bought it last December so I shop around and eventually find one (a Serfas) that I buy for just £36. Then I realise I'm not getting any change from that gift card so I decide to buy something else to make up the money: a Wild Man crossbar bag that'll take stuff like a mobile phone, bank card, front door keys and so on. Total order, around £45. In fact, because of the gift card, I only end up paying something like £4 on top for the saddle and the cross bar bag. Result!

The next step, however, is to get the Daway saddle off the bike and into a box and then send the box (containing both saddles) to Amazon. Within five-to -even days I'll receive a refund for the Daway and all will be good. However, my new saddle won't arrive until the 19th October, next week. Fortunately, I have the Rockhopper's original saddle in the garage, which ain't a bad saddle, and this time I'm going to try to fix it by myself. I don't hold out much hope, but let's see. Either way it'll be a temporary measure as when my new saddle arrives I'll be taking it off and replacing it... better make that Cycle King will be doing it. I reckon they'll also be putting the Rockhopper saddle on the seat post, but let's see. All of this is very annoying as it means I haven't been out on the bike all week and it's nothing to do with the rain. Today is Friday, it's been a bad week on the cycling front, but I'm hoping I'll be riding somewhere tomorrow morning.

Well, first, how about an update on the saddle situation. It's all good news. I managed to get the Daway saddle off the bike and into a cardboard box along with the Selle Royal, which, incidentally, had risen in price from the £45 I paid last December to almost £60! And why would I re-buy the saddle that, ultimately, let me down? So I searched Amazon and eventually found the Serfas, designed for blokes, and I think it's better than the Selle Royal. The Serfas saddle employs the ICS 'infinite comfort system' which basically protects your bits, it's as if somebody has sliced a big chunk of it out of the middle, leaving a one-inch depth channel running the length of the seat. I don't plan on fitting it until after tomorrow's ride, just in case I have problems and have to cancel the ride. The original Specialized saddle is fine because I've also bought some pretty decent cycling shorts, yes, cycling shorts, made of Lycra, that I wore today for the first time. I rode to the Velo Barn with the intention of recording the mileage of the ride, which I reckon, all-in, is about 20 miles. Unfortunately, my iPhone ran out of power so I failed in my task, but it doesn't matter. 

When I reached the Velo Barn, just before 0900hrs, I loitered outside until they officially opened on the hour and then ordered a regular cappuccino and a slice of lemon cake. Perfect. Then I sat down and chilled, watching my bike, which was parked outside. I really needed a book to read, that would have been perfect, or a newspaper, but had neither so I just chilled, eavesdropping on other people's conversations before ordering a mug of tea, purely to extend my time sitting there doing nothing. Eventually, of course, I had to go, but the journey back isn't at all difficult. I rode along a short stretch of Pilgrim's Lane, just like last Saturday, and then rode up the hill towards Botley. It was a walk in the park and soon I found myself on the 269 and heading for home. 

This morning I'd woken up at 0459hrs and, for some reason, I needed to listen to Jump by Van Halen, so I headed downstairs, switched on the lap top and found what I was looking for on You Tube. Perfick! And I followed up with Ian Brown's First World Problems, equally perfick. With a bowl of Alpen, grapes, sliced banana, raspberries and blueberries, not forgetting a cup of tea, I was feeling on top of the world and looking forward to getting out there on the bike. The original plan had been a ride to Woodmansterne Green, but Bon didn't reply so I figured he might have gone out and rode instead (as you know) to the Velo Barn. It was the perfect end to the week, but a week marred by no cycling and loads of hassles with bicycle saddles. Still, it's all sorted now and tomorrow there's the ride to Tatsfield Village to meet the guys.

Another rear wheel puncture, so off to the shop I went!

What to start with this week? It's got to be Prince Andrew's so-called 'car crash' interview with Newsnight's Emily Maitlis. There's two things I simply don't get. First, when he was asked whether he'd shagged what's her name, Virginia something or other, he said he couldn't recollect doing anything, even meeting her. Now, let's be honest here: if you're asked a straightforward question like that, you give a straightforward answer and it's either yes or no. To say you can't recollect it implies that you might well have done the dirty deed, you just can't remember because you were pissed, although, I can't believe that anybody can have sex with somebody and forget it happened, unless they deliberately want to forget it ever happened. That's one thing. Another is that photograph. He was adamant that the shot had been taken upstairs at Epstein's gaff, but said he'd never been upstairs, making me wonder how he knew it was taken upstairs. Where there's smoke...

Warlingham Green - all the fun of the fair

What else? Oh, yes, the photographer Terry O'Neill has died. I bring this up because I have worked with him, directly, and he was a nice bloke. In a nutshell, I had interviewed the film star Terence Stamp and he insisted that O'Neill took the photograph.

Not much else to say on the news front to be honest. I'm a Celebrity is on the box so I'm kind of watching it out of the corner of my eye while typing this blog post. They've gone to the first break and there's loads of Christmas ads. How boring! It's only 17 November. I suppose they've got to start at some stage.

Ant and Dec are such wankers. There! I said it.

Anyway, moving on. Yesterday, Saturday, was a great ride. I left home around 0710hrs, met Andy at the green and off we went to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, the slow way, chatting about Brexit all the way and then drinking tea and heading home. Great weather, but cold, so I wore the balaclava, which made all the difference.

But guess what? When I woke up on Sunday morning, after making the tea, I headed out to the garage to find yet another rear wheel puncture, so I aborted the ride and later pumped up the deflated tyre and rode to the bike shop. Then I walked into central Croydon, weird and desolate on a Sunday morning, and then walked straight back to the shop, picked up the bike and rode home. Effectively that was my day. When I got back I slobbed around for a while, messed around on the computer, the usual stuff, and then I drove over to mum's for some fruit cake. I sat there watching Escape to the Country with Aled Jones while sipping tea and munching cake and then I had a KitKat before driving home, messing around on the computer again and then eating a jacket potato and beans followed by a Tazo orange tea.

The Tatsfield Bus Stop, Saturday 16th November 2019...

Right now there's another ad break on I'm a Celebrity and another sickly festive advertisement, this time courtesy of Tesco - 'delivering Christmas for 100 years'. Really. Who cares?

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Great ride Saturday, no ride Sunday, another puncture and a new watch!

I won't say I'm not very pissed off, because I am. Very pissed off. Over the last week I've had THREE rear wheel punctures. I got back after my ride yesterday and noticed that the rear tyre was, well, let's say softer than it was when I embarked upon Saturday's cycle to the Tatsfield Bus Stop with Andy. It's annoying for one reason, well, for more than one, but the main one being we were planning a ride to Westerham today and breakfast in the caff, but now it's not to be, and that's not only because of the puncture, which is bad enough, but also the fact that I simply couldn't face going out into the garage at 0630hrs to fix it. Look, getting up early is fine (just about fine) but year in and year out we do it and we love it, not so much the getting up, but riding the bikes; but fixing punctures BEFORE a ride? No. So I aborted.

Yesterday we rode the slow way to the bus stop and it was fantastic, a great work-out. But when I reached home the tyre was soft and I know that if (when) I head out to the garage in a few moments - right now I'm drinking me tea, my second cup of tea, but it's decaff so its alright, but as soon as I've finished it, I'm out there, I've got to take the rear wheel off, then do all the usual things that need to be done to fix it. I'm not going to moan anymore, in fact, I'm going to talk about something completely different: I bought a watch last week in Carnaby Street. Yes, a watch. Avid readers might recall that many years ago I was the proud owner of a Rolex watch. I'd bought it with some spare cash at the time and, well, there were issues when I look back. It never really kept the right time, probably because it was one of those perpetual motion watches and somebody in Brussels told me recently that they're not as accurate as quartz watches. That somebody worked in the Swatch shop in Brussels, not far from the Grand Place. I walked in off the street - I can't think of any other way of walking in, to be honest, it's not as if I could have parachuted in. Anyway, I bowled in, because that's what I do, I bowl in to places, I rock up, and was told that perpetual motion watches simply don't keep good time. Well, the Rolex people told me my watch needed a service, but guess what? It costs £400 to service a Rolex watch and it was starting to get a little ridiculous. To be honest, in the end I stopped wearing it. What was the point? And add to that the fact that it looked a little ostentatious, the sort of thing people rob you for, so it skulked around in a box upstairs, never seeing the light of day, until, that is, I found myself in debt. Time, perhaps, to sell the Rolex, which I did and I got double what I paid for it. Result, you might say, but it left me watchless. Not that people wear watches any more; instead they rely upon the clock on their iphones, I know I do. And then I bought a little Timex watch with a glowing face, but it was cheap and nasty and part of the brand's Expedition series. Yes, I fancied myself as Indiana Jones and whenever I travel abroad I take it with me and keep it on UK time. But it lacks finesse and, if I may say so, so do I. I lack finesse in so many different areas, one of them being sartorial elegance. I wear Jeremy Corbyn shoes and V-necked jumpers and cheap shirts and ties. I am man at Millets or Primani, and quite frankly I'm getting fed up with it.

Sekonda's Midnight Blue

I was watching Dave for some reason, I think it was Dave Gorman's Terms and Conditions Apply, and I noticed that the Sekonda Midnight Blue (it's a watch) sponsors comedy on Dave. What I great watch! Or so I thought. I started to obsess about it, like I do whenever I want something. I get like a little kid and start wanting it immediately. I found myself staring at it in shop windows, even getting the jeweller to let me take a look at it in the flesh; it was a nice watch and it only cost £70. Now, compared to the Rolex, that's cheap, right? Of course it is, but then a trip to Brussels changed things. I walked into that Swatch shop off the Grand Place and spotted the Casual Blue. It was a little more expensive (£135) but now I had a new obsession and it had to be put to rest so I bought it, not there and then in Brussels, but a week later in London. I should have bought it in Brussels because then there would have been a story attached to it. "I bought it in Brussels, you know". But no, I bought it from the Swatch UK shop in Carnaby Street and ever since I've bought it (it's now three days old at the time of writing) I can't stop looking at it. It's a got a blue face and it looks like the sort of watch spies or explorers wear in the movies, the sort of watch the camera cuts to whenever the time is brought up. It's stainless steel with a leather stitched strap, its perfect in every way. And it's heavy too. The last thing I want is light watch. In fact, before buying any Swatch watch make sure you see it in the flesh. When I arrived at the Swatch shop in London there were watches there that I'd considered buying (while browsing on-line) that were far flimsier than I suspected. The Casual Blue, however, lived up to everything I expected from it so I bought it there and then and left the shop feeling good about myself.

Swatch Casual Blue...

Ever since then I keep looking at it when it's on my wrist. Feel free to ask me the time, I say to people I know. Feel free, and if you do, I'll stretch out my left arm and tell you and you'll notice this huge chunk of stainless steel with a blue dial and a brown leather strap. It's cool, of course it is! And I love it.

So I've finished my tea and the sun is shining and I'm annoyed that I didn't get out on the bike today. Had I gone out, I'd be on the way back now, probably about half an hour away from my front door, but I didn't go out, I stayed in and there's a puncture in the garage waiting for me to fix it. Oooh! Is that the time? Better go.

A thorough drenching on Saturday and a puncture on Sunday

Tuesday 5th November: I thought there would be no riding at all this weekend due to poor weather. All week the forecasters had been saying that Saturday would be a wash-out, but when I checked the weather app on my iphone, the rain clouds of previous days had been replaced by a cloud without the blue rain underneath it, not until 0900hrs at any rate; that was when the rain was expected to fall, and, by and large, that's exactly what happened.

A pleasant and autumnal start to Saturday but later rain

Andy and I met on the green as usual and then headed off in the direction of Botley Hill along the 269. We'd decided to ride to the bus stop, the slow way, and while I felt sufficiently out of condition, having not enjoyed a long ride since 6 October, I soon found I was powering along Beddlestead Lane and was clearly not as unfit as I thought I was. We reached the bus stop and drank our tea while discussing Brexit and then it started to rain so we remained under the shelter of the bus stop until the rain stopped.

There was, I figured, a good chance that we'd escape a soaking. When Andy and I parted at The Ridge, I was thinking I could power along the 269 and get home before the rain starts up again, but no, it wasn't going to happen. A mild drizzle started and before I reached Slines Oak Road the rain was falling by the ton and I took refuge under a bus shelter opposite Sainsbury's, but not for long. I figured the rain was settling in for the long haul so I put on a brave face and headed for the green and, ultimately, Sanderstead. In the process, I was soaked, drenched, whatever other adjective you might care to use. but I was wet-through. The rain persisted and there was simply no point in taking shelter anywhere so I continued on my way, through the high street, down Church Way and when I reached home I had to peel my clothes off and hang them up to dry.

Fortunately, they were dry on Sunday morning and when I woke up at 0600hrs there was no rain, just a huge puddle on the roof of next door's extension. But when I headed outside to jump on the bike, having made the tea for the ride, I found my rear tyre was flat - again! I aborted and set about fixing the puncture a little later. It's ready to ride now, but there's no time as I've got a family event to attend and looking at the week ahead, it looks like more rain.

Christmas decorations spotted in Marks & Spencer, Sutton. Not long to go!

Feeling slightly depressed about the whole thing I left the bike in the garage and now I'm contemplating the week ahead and whether my early morning rides will be disrupted by the weather. Monday (yesterday) was fine and today (Tuesday) looks roughly the same, although rain is promised at lunch time. In other words, I will be going out shortly on a ride round the block. Unless, that is, I find a puncture. And the answer to that question is no, I didn't have a puncture, but I left the house late and decided to return and get to work on time. I'll go tomorrow morning, on time. I need to do at least three rides per week, so Monday, Wednesday and Friday is fine.

Puncture halts ride and I hope for a lull in tomorrow's predicted bad weather...

I reckon I've missed the ride this weekend. There's some nasty weather coming in from the west and I think today, Saturday is going to be the only day we get a ride in. But it was not to be: I went through all the motions, of course. I made the tea, sorted out the milk and the tea bags, chucked the lot in my rucksack and then headed outside to jump on the bike. But no, there was a rear wheel puncture and while normally this wouldn't have phased me (I would have simply fixed it, arranged to meet Andy a little later and all would have been fine) today I had to get back early, so the lost time led me to abort the ride.

A randomly selected shot of Badesi beach in Sardinia on a windy day in 2016

I decided it was best to fix the puncture and set about the task calmly. As I write this, the bike is now repaired and both tyres have been pumped up hard. I hope I get to ride tomorrow, but if the weather is anything to go by I seriously doubt it, but you never know. If a ride is on, you can bet I'll be soaked by the time I return home.There might be a lull in proceedings that gets me out of the house, but I'm sure that, somewhere along the road, the heavens will open and I'll get wet, but let's see. It might be one of those freaky situations when I somehow escape an early morning cold shower, who knows?

While I'm here, what's been going on of late? Well, not much if the truth be told. I've been working ever since I returned from New Delhi and I'm not travelling anywhere until early April at present, although there might be trips to Vienna and Milan on the agenda, not sure yet. Having just returned from the garage after fixing that puncture, there's also a lot of clutter in there that needs to be sorted out and let's not forget that I need to decorate the hallway. I was reminded of this when I spied the paint brushes and the roller on the floor in the garage alongside two tins of paint. It's got to be done sooner or later so I need to put aside a weekend.

Mum had her hip replacement on 31 January and now she's fine and walking around quite normally. Amazing really. She's 89 (90 in November) and she's sailed through the whole thing without (touch wood) any issues. Things have gone back to normal as we no longer have to spend the nights round there. I used to spend Saturday and a day in the week over there and Jon and Chrissy (my brother and sister) would fill the other days. It's strange sleeping in my old bedroom and oddly not the same anymore. I prefer to be here in my own home six miles east of mum's.

Mike Carter has a new book out (All Together Now?) and needless to say it's fantastic. There will be a review here on this blog just as soon as I've finished it. The book I read before Carter's latest was Douglas Coupland's Girlfriend in a Coma, which was a little strange, and prior to that, Michel Houellbecq's Platform. He's got another book out in the UK later this year called Seratonin, which I'm really looking forward to; I first read Houellbecq back in 2007 – Atomised – and with everything that's going around Brexit, he's kind of part of the zeitgeist, which is all good.

Not much else to report, so I'll sign off. The photograph accompanying this post is of a beach in Badesi, Sardinia. It has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that I went on holiday there a couple of years ago, which was good.

I have nothing more to say other than here's hoping I get a ride in tomorrow.

Sunday – Storm Freya means no cycling

Bad weather had been mentioned once or twice on the television. So-called Storm Freya was on its way and it was due to hit on Sunday. I woke up at 0600hrs and immediately took a look at my neighbour's conservatory roof. The puddle was animated by rain so I immediately sent Andy an abort text and spent most of the day looking out of the window or reading Mike Carter's All Together Now, not forgetting a drive (as opposed to a ride) to mum's. It was a lazy day and a weekend without cycling.

To Botley Hill...

I hadn't been cycling since the middle of January. Various things – my mum and a bit of travelling – had stopped me and as I made my way around the suburban streets surrounding my house I felt a little sluggish. As Andy later remarked, as we wove our way around country lanes close to St. Leonard's church, the older you get, the harder it is to get back into condition.

One thing that amazed me was how light it is now in the morning. The last time I jumped on the bike it was dark when I left the house and I had to put my lights on. Now, a few weeks later it was broad daylight and the lights were not required – until later.

Bleak at Botley Hill

When we reached the turn off for Hesiers Hill and later Beddlestead Lane, we decided to ride along Beech Farm Road instead and it proved to be a mistake. Weatherwise, there was fog hanging low in the bare trees and hovering over the fields, but as we approached the 269 and turned left heading towards Botley Hill, we both opted for the off-road path as it was simply too dangerous to stay on the road.

As we passed Botley Hill, Andy stopped. Yes, he had a puncture. "We might as well stay here for our tea," I said and we did. Andy set about fixing his bike; the puncture was on the front tyre. The fog persisted and Andy decided to head home via the Ridge. I would have gone with him, but the thought of Sline's Oak Road bothered me enough to keep me on the off-road path back along the 269.

When I reached Warlingham Green I met a complete imbecile, a toothless individual driving a truck. He leaned out of the window and exclaimed, "Oi! Mate! Yer fucking front wheel is going round!" It was something I hadn't heard since I was at school, but this utter twat – I didn't ask, but I bet he voted Brexit – spat it out with, it has to be said, a high degree of hatred. I simply ignored the arsehole and pedalled on towards Hamsey Green and eventually I reached Sanderstead.

Andy fixing his puncture...

I was sleeping at mum's on Saturday night and opted not to ride on Sunday, which proved to be a big mistake as the weather was amazing. I was reading this morning (I'm writing this on Monday 18 February) that we're in for some kind of freak heatwave and temperatures of 20 degrees. Sounds good to me.

While I considered riding round the block, I went for a walk instead and later drove to Westerham.

Whenever I miss a ride I always 'consider' a ride around the block, but for some reason it never appeals. I think that if I make up my mind not to ride, somehow that decision sticks with me and the thought of riding around the block simply depresses me.

No cycling this weekend...

Monday 12 November: Last week, when I noticed I had a rear wheel puncture, the plan was to fix it, but what with one thing or another – mainly the thought that I didn't want to be in the garage, in the cold, after a day at work – it gradually dawned on me that I wouldn't be fixing that puncture and that I'd have to abort Saturday's ride. That's exactly what happened, and in many ways it's a shame because the weather was fine. I eventually fixed it around 4pm and to be honest, as I sit here, listening to Beck (something I haven't done for a while) I get a sneaky suspicion that it's still going to be a problem. Why? Because while I pumped it up to be rock hard, when I checked it on Sunday it appeared softer, meaning I either didn't do it properly or there's another puncture I hadn't picked up. Naturally, I blame the off-road track on the 269, which I've been using a fair bit, but let's be realistic, it could have been anything.

Sunday was characterised by one thing: rain. Through the night on, I think, Friday/Saturday, it really hammered down; and then on Saturday/Sunday, the same: roaring rain. When I woke at around 0600hrs it was still pelting down. I looked out of the window on to next door's conservatory roof and I could see stair rods creating a small puddle of their own making. Perhaps prematurely I rattled off another abort text and then jumped back into bed. Naturally, later, the weather looked fine and I started to wish I'd not aborted, but that feeling was short-lived as there were sporadic showers throughout the day, leaving roads and pavements with a damp sheen.

It's now Monday morning, 12 November, and I think I'll sneak out and check the bike later. My hunch is it'll be softer than yesterday. This won't necessarily jeopardise next week's ride, because it might be a slow puncture that, perhaps, I can deal with at the Bus Stop – or wherever we go. Suddenly, however, I noticed that my bike's 'honeymoon' period was over: it's looking a bit bedraggled. For a start the chainguard needs replacing and then I need to buy some touch-up paint and give it a decent clean. Once those jobs are done I'll be happy again. I can't afford to leave it as then things nose-dive into a situation where there's always something wrong with the bike. This week, I'll check out Evan's Cycles, see what they have to offer. I know I can get the paint on eBay, so perhaps that's the best bet. As for the chain guard, I'll have to see what's out there; I get the feeling that they're pretty standard, but again, we'll see.

Postscript, 14 November 2018: I still have a puncture.

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!

Ride aborted prior to reaching the green

As crazy days go, you don't get much crazier. Perhaps craziness has nothing to do with it. Perhaps it's just, I don't know, fate, the luck of the draw, a bad day. But either way it wasn't good. Phil had overslept as when I stepped outside into the dark, mild, morning air around 0700hrs there was no sign of him. But then he appeared. He'd overslept and hadn't made any of his signature sausage sandwiches, but it didn't matter – he'd bought cake.

There was a chance that a guy from Phil's office would join us on the ride and probably meet us on the green. But it all went to pot. My bike started to wobble about a quarter mile away and it was terminal; and what's more I'd left all my puncture repair stuff in the garage. Things weren't looking good.

Limpsfield Road around 0745hrs, Saturday 23 January 2016

Andy could have helped, until I realised that the puncture was underneath the leech already on the inner tube. I'd need a new one so we aborted the ride and because I had yet to buy the milk (we'd run out at home) we didn't even eat the cake!

I walked back along the Limpsfield Road – that's a posh name for the 269 – listening to the familiar squeak of a deflated rear tyre, until Phil arrived in the Volvo to pick me up and we drove back home. He lives across the street.

Later I walked to the nearest bike shop, chewed the fat with the sales guy, checked out some of the bikes and then bought an inner tube. As I returned home a black cat crossed my path and I had to wrack my brains about that: was it good or bad luck? I'd just have to be careful all day. Then Phil texted to say he accidentally smashed up a set of crystal wine glasses; and then I found a mirror balanced precariously on the window sill of a back bedroom.

I fixed the puncture, had lunch (soup and bread) and then drove to Sevenoaks in Kent. There's a big stately home near there called Knole. It's surrounded by desolate fields and woods and bare trees and populated with walkers and a few runners. We walked for over 50 minutes, just me, my wife and daughter, and then we came home. Tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Andy's on for a ride so if the weather holds it'll be okay.

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.

Remembrance Sunday and a ride to the Tatsfield Bus Stop with Andy...

Sunday was a far better day than Saturday (see previous post). There was no rain, but as Andy and I approached Botley Hill en route to the Tatsfield bus stop, there was fog, and while it looked rather spooky at times, it wasn't, and when we parked up the bikes and brought out the chocolate BelVita biscuits it was virtually non-existent.

Earlier, as I pedalled up Church Way – feeling a little weary it has to be said – I noticed something for the first time that's probably been there for years. In the churchyard at the top of the hill there was a flag pole flying the Union Jack. It's no big deal, I know, but there you have it; I don't recall ever seeing it before. And then, of course, it all clicked into place – it was Remembrance Sunday. Perhaps it flies every year at this time and I've simply never noticed it.

Bare trees at the green mean winter is on its way...

I pushed on towards Warlingham and when I reached the green I spied bare trees, but no sign of Andy. While winter had arrived, it was still very mild and after yesterday's rain, my gloves were still soaked through when I went to put them on this morning. Fortunately, the air was warm enough for me to leave them behind.

Checking my iphone I found a text from Andy. He'd picked up a puncture at Whyteleafe – broken glass on the road – but he was on his way and arrived around 0745hrs.

The ride to the bus stop was uneventful and when we got there we chilled out with tea and the aforementioned chocolate BelVita biscuits. They're like CoCo Pops in biscuit form – wonderful. And if, like me, you manage to drop half a biscuit in your tea, then you'll know that, in a sense, you get the feeling you're drinking chocolate-flavoured tea. Well, not quite, but let's move on.

We chatted about 'old times' and our early pre-blog rides to Westerham when we seemed to arrive there when it was still dark. This had a lot to do with meeting at 0700hrs at the top of Slines Oak Road, which is a good 15 minutes or so further on from the green. We spoke about walking to Oxted with flat tyres in the days prior to fixing punctures by the roadside (what were we thinking?) and we wondered why we no longer have the time to enjoy longer rides.

Home from home – the Tatsfield bus stop

We reminisced about a ride in April 2011 when we rode out later in the day with Andy's pal Richard and enjoyed a few pints of Harvey's Nuptial Ale (brewed to celebrate the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton). Although I hasten to add that WE weren't celebrating the Royal Wedding. We were celebrating the fact that we were in the Bricklayers Arms, opposite Longford Lake in Kent, enjoying the beer and the good weather. Click here for the full story!

There were plenty of Lycra monkeys on the road. I'd never seen so many and put it down to the mild weather. Long streams of them rode south on the 269 as we headed home and might have been part of an organised ride. There were bright purple signs nailed to poles along the road indicating two alternatives for riders: left for 'fun' and right for 'all other routes' – or words to that effect.

We parted company half way along the 269 as usual and vowed to ride again next week. Ahead of me another day of lolling around doing very little, followed by a drive to Lindfield where a Remembrance Day event was taking place.

Tatsfield Churchyard...and I get a puncture on the way home...

Sunday 14 June 2015 – I get a puncture on the B269

A far better day than yesterday in terms of the weather; it was warmer and brighter and the Tatsfield Churchyard seemed like a good destination. We got there, drank our tea, munched our biscuits and then I set about trying to take a decent image that would, in some way, epitomise the ride. Except that most of the shots we've tried before and, let's be honest, when you're in a churchyard it's all a little morbid. One of the shots I snapped today featured Andy and I between two headstones – very depressing – another was a shot of me posing, crouched down, at the end of a wooden bench; this shot was over exposed for some reason and so was another shot of the grass and bushes in front of our bench.

However, on the way home my bike wobbled slightly – I had a puncture! The shot above proved the most exciting. It shows my bike having its rear wheel puncture repaired and Andy's somehow defying gravity in the background.

Fixing the puncture took about 20 minutes and soon we were back on the road. As usual we parted company at Warlingham Green. I reached home around a quarter past ten and I'm guessing Andy got home at roughly the same time.

Another rear wheel puncture means we ride to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

Sunday 5th April 2015: Having fixed my first puncture in a long time on Good Friday afternoon, resulting in the abandonment of our first ride of the Easter break, I was looking forward to Sunday morning's cycling.

500 yards from Warlingham Green

We'd enjoyed a brief run to Botley Hill on Saturday morning and now it was looking as if the weather was improving – and the temperature warming up. A jaunt to Westerham was on the cards, but it was not to be; about 500 yards from Warlingham Green I detected the familiar wobble of a puncture. As always, at first I didn't believe it. Surely not again! But soon the tyre had deflated and I was forced to walk to the green, past the retirement homes, with that familiar squeak of rubber on tarmac to accompany me. Having arrived at the green I up-ended the bike, whipped off the rear wheel and set to work on fixing the puncture while chatting to Andy about this and that.

The delay meant we had to abandon our trip to Westerham and instead head for the familiar Tatsfield Bus Stop. The weather had improved considerably. Unlike Saturday there were no puddles on the road, the temperature was warmer and it wasn't so grey and overcast. The improved weather brought out the Lycra monkeys.

Andy and I had a few interesting things to discuss, including (briefly) a little chat about Top Gear and Clarkson, but having bored you already with this, I won't say anymore. We munched our Belvita biscuits, we sipped tea and probably chatted for longer than normal before deciding to head for home. The weather was getting warmer but it was still a little chilly as we raced back along the B269 towards Warlingham Green where we parted company, vowing to ride out again tomorrow.

Fixing the puncture on Warlingham Green

Early morning puncture leads to a Good Friday abort text

I haven't been cycling for ages... or so it seems. The last time I went out was before I travelled to Rio. Andy and I went to the Tatsfield Churchyard and chatted, if I recall correctly, about the whole Jeremy Clarkson fiasco. Well, was it really a fiasco? Now that it's been announced that he won't be having his contract renewed, I can understand why he's no longer the lead presenter of Top Gear. In essence, you can't hit somebody at work at get away with it, so what kind of message would it send out if Clarkson was allowed to stay in his job, especially after the whole Savile affair? But Clarkson's departure is still bad news for those of us who enjoyed watching Top Gear on a Sunday evening. I mean, now that it's gone, all that's left is Poldark and while I don't mind the Cornish drama, I'd much prefer to watch it AFTER my dose of Top Gear, in the same way that my dad used to have a spoonful of sugar to lighten the load of his Seven Seas cod liver oil. I find myself watching old episodes of Top Gear on BBC 3 or on Dave and, in all honesty, it's all very sad that an era has come to an end. But enough already!

So, it's Good Friday and my plan was to head out, possibly to Westerham, with Andy. I was up early, I'd eaten a bowl of All Bran and a hard-boiled egg and then, after sorting out the tea, headed for the garage where I found a flat rear tyre. I was already running 10 minutes late and had texted Andy that I was on my way, which, technically, was true, but the sight of the flat rear tyre deflated my ambitions and for a short while I just stood there, staring at the bike and wondering what to do. Having not been on the bike for a couple of weeks – last weekend was a wash-out (late night stopped the Saturday ride and rain meant there was no ride on Sunday) – I really wanted to go out and I figured that it might simply be a flat tyre after a fortnight of the bike languishing in the garage. I found the pump, pumped up the tyre and then wheeled the bike out of the garage, but then I heard a distinct hissing. This was no slow puncture. So I wheeled the bike back into the garage, turned it upside down and then looked at my watch. It was getting late so I sent Andy an abort text. Oddly, at the time of writing, I've heard nothing back so I don't know whether he went out alone or not. He normally does unless it's been raining so I'm hoping to hear back from him as I don't think he'll be going tomorrow.

My plan is to fix the puncture and get out there Saturday, Sunday and Monday and I'm hoping to throw in a trip to Westerham too. Right now there's nowt much to do (apart from a little bit of work). Outside the weather is overcast. It's not raining, but it's dull, athough it's not cold so a ride today would have been really good, but it was not to be, sadly.

Gambling on the General Election
That's about it for now. Not much else is happening. In the news we've had a televised political debate with the three main parties – Labour, Lib-Dem and Conservatives – plus the likes of UKIP, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru – and I'm none the wiser as to who to vote for in the imminent General Election. Having said that, I might be in the USA on the day of voting so I might not vote at all, which, in all honesty, was how I was feeling anyway. I certainly wouldn't be voting for Cameron (Conservative) as he represents the party of the privileged. As for Labour, well, perhaps if David Milliband was in charge and as for the rest of them, no chance, so there you have it. If I'm around I'll probably vote for Milliband, just purely for the hell of it, otherwise I'll be wasting my vote, although I have considered having a bit of fun with it and indulging in a bit of kamikazee voting: taking out the Conservatives who I couldn't vote for out of principle, there will be six parties left, one for every number on the dice. Now that would add a little bit of excitement to the proceedings, wouldn't it! I'll let you know what I decide to do. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think I'll actually do that unless I'm out of the country, in which case I won't even vote.

And the winner is...?
One roll, no best of three, I'd alloted one number to each party. 1. Ukip. 2. Labour. 3. Liberal Democrats. 4. The Green Party. 5. The Scottish Nationalist Party. 6. Plaid Cymru.

I found a dice, rolled it and...well, it's a secret ballot so why should I tell you, but I'm going to stick with the number rolled, which kind of goes against my gut feeling, but what the hell!

We ride to Westerham, I get a puncture and some Lycra monkeys get our goat...

Another ride to Westerham, meaning 44 miles in total this weekend and good weather on both occasions, although there were mild rain showers as we made the return journey. Nothing major, no driving rain, just the odd squall.

My Scrap, upside down – the first puncture for a while.

Andy and I met at 7am and headed off on the usual route. When we reached Westerham, the tea was delayed by yours truly and a puncture that I must have picked up on the approach to the town. The offending thorn was about an inch long (see photo below), but the puncture was fixed relatively quickly – once I'd got the front wheel off. Andy says there's a problem with the bearings, something else that needs to be sorted out. So, that's the bottom bracket, new front brake shoes and now, the wheel bearings. But oddly, that knocking I was getting a few weeks back has gone and I'm wondering if it's anything to do with me losing weight (I've lost 21lbs just by doing the following:-

1. Reducing bread intake from 10 + slices per day to just two slices.
2. Cutting out/reducing virtually everything to do with the letter B. Bread, buns, biscuits and beer (yes, beer), not forgetting chocolate bars and sweets.
3. No eating between meals, just breakfast, lunch and dinner and if I do eat between meals it's either a raw carrot or, after lunch only, a small portion of almonds from M&S.

That's about it and I've lost 21lbs! And I haven't stopped dessert either, meaning I can eat, say, apple pie and crumble of an evening, should the fancy take me, and that's alright.

My intake of food consists, roughly, of the following:-

1. One bowl of porridge for breakfast and possibly an item of fruit, ie a banana or an apple.
2. One sandwich (two slices of bread) for lunch. Normally tuna and onion or cheese and tomato plus an apple and a raw carrot, which I eat mid-morning. I buy the almonds at lunch time and eat them around 2pm and that sees me through to dinner time.
3. Dinner can be anything: lentils and rice, salmon, potatoes and greens, whatever. The key is not to eat more than two slices of bread per day and NEVER eat between meals. I can drink alcohol, but nothing excessive and it must be during the 'dinner' period (except when travelling). At Prague airport last week, for instance, I had a pint of Pilsner Urquell with a cheese and ham toastie – fine, it was lunch time. But on the flight back I had nothing to eat or drink, waiting instead for dinner.

By following the above regime (which hasn't been too difficult) I've lost 21lbs.

So today, when Andy bought two rock cakes from the Tudor Rose Tearooms in Westerham,  while tempted, I resisted, making do with the cereal bar.

Lycra monkey idiots!
It's been a good weekend of cycling, but a bunch of Lycra monkeys left a nasty taste. Why? Because, outside the Tudor Rose, where the ridiculously dressed monkeys were sitting, there is a residential house adjoining the café. On the wall of the private address is a very clear notice, a 'polite notice' asking cyclists not to lean their bicycles against the wall. The monkeys had ignored this notice and leaned their bikes, one on top of the other, against the wall while they sat there discussing their annuities (that's all Lycra monkeys do: talk about 'matters financial' and you just know that they have a Phil Collins album somewhere in their collection.

So, the monkeys sat there, discussing the usual crap and one of them had the audacity to wear bright orange boots – he looked absolutely ridiculous. Then, two more monkeys arrived, not part of the original group, and they left their bikes obstructing the front door of the private house. Had anybody inside the house decided to come outside they would have had to move the bikes. The monkeys concerned were not concerned at all by this; instead they just sailed into the Tudor Rose, took a seat and ordered food and drink. We saw them laughing and joking from our position on the green.

The one-inch long thorn I found in my inner tube.

We were outside fixing my puncture or sipping tea and we just thought: 'what a bunch of nob cheeses!' In many ways it ruined the ride, but we re-mounted our bikes and headed out of town and up the long hill from Westerham to the Botley Hill Farmhouse pub and then powered our way down the 269 where we noticed there a distinct chill in the air.

I got home just before 1000hrs pleased with the fact that I'd riden 44 miles over the weekend. It was like old times and long may it continue.

Andy and I have vowed to ride out as early and as often as possible and we aim for 44-milers most weekends – weather permitting.

Main photo: Andy Smith.