Get on with it!!!!

A few dodgy starts on consecutive Sundays. The first one turned out to be disastrous, although that was probably too severe a description. Basically, I kept leaving the house and having to return; well, a couple of times, but I was already running late and when I remembered that my pump and 'leeches' for punctures were in a rucksack and that rucksack wasn't on my back I had to return again having made it half way up Church Way. Demoralising sums it up. The problem, of course, was not having used a rucksack for a while and then changing tack and using one, largely for carrying a book and glasses, but also a new bicycle pump and patches, the former being too big to fit in my crossbar bag. Annoyed with myself I returned home, vowing to go out later, which I did, but first I sent Andy a text saying I wouldn't be there. I rode to Westerham instead about half an hour after returning home and stopped at Esquire's Coffee where I read my book, Eric Ambler's Uncommon Danger. I was drenched by the time I got there because the weather turned as I approached Botley Hill. It rained continuously until I reached the town. While I sat there, the weather changed and there was no rain on the return ride. I did my usual thing: I approached Westerham in the normal manner, riding down Clarks Lane, and then went back the other way, turning left on to Pilgrims Lane by the Velobarn, which is never open these days.

The following week (last Sunday) I almost repeated the calamity but was determined to reach Sheree's as I hadn't seen Andy for a couple of weeks and, I remembered, I had a free cup of tea thanks to Sheree's loyalty card promotion. I was late arriving but all was well and while I left with Andy to ride home, I had glimpsed the ginger cake and decided to go back in and order a slice... and another pot of tea! I sat there chilling out and then left and rode home. While it had been a little rainy on the outward journey, again it had stopped for the return ride. There was mist (make that fog) so I was glad I had my lights fully charged front and back.

Things have been a little stressful of late: mum was admitted to hospital with pneumonia and spent a while in ward B5 after enduring three days on a gurney in the corridor. I visited daily. It's amazing when you consider that the UK is the world's fifth largest economy that the hospitals are not unlike those you might find in Gaza during the pummelling the Palestinians were given by the Israelis. We've all seen shots of war zone A&E departments on the news and that's exactly what it's like in, of all places, St. Helier hospital in Carshalton and elsewhere in the UK. The fifth largest economy in the world! There are also a lot of people in the UK living in poverty and relying upon food banks, there are homeless people, including ex-servicemen, living on the streets, single mums with young children sofa surfing or living in sub-standard, mould-infested rented accommodation. 

Mum was eventually placed on a ward and given oxygen and antibiotics and soon started to recover, but it's not looking good long-term. The doc suggested she was fit to go back to the home but he wasn't confident that the infection would stay away for long. That said, mum has always been a fighter. When dad died she calmly announced that she had breast cancer, but soon kicked it into touch; then she was told she needed a hip replacement and sailed through the whole thing without incident. After that a few falls and a diagnosis of dementia saw her being placed in a nursing home for her own safety, where she is now, and that's kind of where we are; it's not been easy. Yesterday, I found out that mum was a little better, not brilliant but definitely better so, while it's still a little touch and go and will remain so, there has, if you like, been a stay of execution.

I'm glad she's back in the home as it's a far better environment than the hospital. In the bed next to mum in ward B5 was a woman who would suddenly scream like in the horror movies. It made me jump, put it that way, but mum wasn't phased at all, she didn't even flinch. I wonder what that woman is doing now? She's probably still there making the other patients jump every five minutes.

I'm going to the home tonight, it's a 25-minute drive from where I live. If it was lighter in the evenings (as it is during the summer) I'd probably ride over there on the bike, but, to be honest, after a day in the office and the commute home, the last thing I'm thinking of is cycling. Especially today as there was a derailment this morning at the depot in Selhurst and also a signal failure of sorts which have both caused problems that are ongoing.

On another topic, I simply must get my act together. There are so many things I need to address (one of them being more cycling) and I've now resorted to considering (note that word 'considering') writing a list and then ticking off all the things I need to do. However, I am literally 'considering' the list; it is, in fact, something I need to put on the list, ie writing the list itself is one of the things I haven't gotten round to. I don't know how I'm going to get out of what has become a spiralling state of not doing the things that I need to do. Even writing this blog has become something I don't do that often. Back in the day I was always writing about my rides to here and there, but now I don't post as often as I should and that, along with everything else on the mythical list, needs to be addressed.

It's Saturday 7th February now and guess what, yes, it's raining. So no cycling today and I can only hope they'll be one tomorrow. Last Sunday's ride to Sheree's was fine, but there was a touch of rain so it's not as if I'm not going out in it. Today, however, is fairly heavy and that means I'd be soaked through by the time I reached the top of Church Hill. Clearly, there's a need for an alternative sport and that will inevitably mean enrolling as a member of the local leisure centre. Something else for the list. In fact, it's been on the list for many weeks now and nothing has been done. I guess the problem is money: there's not much on the list that doesn't cost money, not that I don't have the money.

So it's looking like another week of just one ride, the Sunday ride. Normally I head to Oxted today where I sit and read in a Caffe Nero before heading back up the hill and home. I can't remember the last time I did it, but hold on a second, I'll take a look at Strava. It was 20 December, so before Christmas. Since then I've done the odd Norfolk Nobbler, the Sunday ride and a few walks. 

I'm finding it very difficult to start something and keep it going. So I managed to do one thing on the list (bring the trim wheel in from the garage, it's taken me weeks to do it) but I haven't used it yet. As for the dumbells, I've yet to start using them. I haven't booked a membership at the pool either. And things keep getting in the way. Admittedly it's normally the rain where cycling is concerned, but then there's other stuff too: we've got to go here or there and do this or do that and exercise takes a back seat. So, a clear need for getting my act together. 

As I write this it's raining but I'm going to check in a second or so and might (I stress that word 'might') go round the block. But who am I kidding? I'm not going to commit to anything, it's not worth it as something is bound to get in the way.

Helsinki to London

It was another one of those occasions when I arrived at the airport early, giving me the full two-hour airport experience. A colleague had dropped me off and now I found myself at the check-in area. Having checked myself in whilst on the night boat to Helsinki, I was annoyed to discover that there was still a lot of faffing about with technology. First I had to place my passport into a machine and then I had to print out the label that I would need to attach to my suitcase before sending it on its way to the aircraft. I was having to do all these jobs that used to be done by a human being. I often wonder what those human beings are doing now, perhaps they're unemployed.

Just one of the snacks I enjoyed, this in Brod & Salt, Stockholm 

Then, it was time for "security" and for some reason only one scanner was working, just one scanner. There was a huge queue, which I found annoying. Where were the people who could be operating the other scanners? Perhaps they were unemployed too, but hold on, this is Finland, it's a cool country (actually, it's freezing) but what I mean is, it's laid back and relaxed and things normally work so well. So I was amazed to discover English hassles in Finland, but soon it was over and I was left to my own devices for a whole two hours. I needed to find a decent restaurant in which to chill out. As you know from reading the previous post I chose Nordic Kitchen from where I ordered an open salmon sandwich, a couple of bars of Fazer chocolate (the small bars) and a green tea. I then sat there eating.The sandwich was excellent, the Fazer chocolate even better and the green tea nice and refreshing.

So men have tits and wear dresses do they Prada?

My flight was due to leave from Gate 46, which was a longish walk from where I was sitting, but there was plenty of time so I wasn't in any way stressed and I wasn't planning on using the automated walkways. But I wasn't as chilled out as I should have been. For some reason I was not relaxed enough to read my book, Eat, Sleep, Cycle by Anna Hughes, so instead I just sat there deep in thought about something mundane. I was, of course, on the last leg of my trip and was looking forward to the flight home to London, albeit a flight that was scheduled to take off after dark at 1935hrs, meaning I wouldn't be able to see a thing out of the window. I was sitting in seat 23a, which is odd as the gate coming out here was 23 so the number had cropped up more than once on the trip. I find myself getting superstitious when I fly. I start by adding up all the numbers on my boarding pass, ie the flight number and so forth, and I hope and pray they never add up to 13. It's stupid, I know, but it makes me feel better about things. One of these days, of course, the numbers won't go in my favour and I'll be faced with a dilemma: change my flight or go with what I've got. I know, it's really stupid.

Twisting corridor, Birger Jarl hotel, Stockholm

Technology is the most annoying thing. I decided to transfer my boarding pass to the 'wallet' app on my iphone and then the battery ran out so I had to approach the person on the gate and ask for a printed boarding pass. What I hate more than anything is a "full flight" and this was one of them, every seat taken and everybody with hand luggage that really should have been stowed in the hold. I think the thing I hate most about flying is the other passengers. There was one woman with a suitcase, a laptop AND a large bag but nobody thought to stop her from boarding with all three. Most of the other passengers were the same and this caused a lot of hassle. All the overhead lockers were jammed with bags and rucksacks and the cabin crew were left to make it work, which it did in the end.

Ready for minus 14 Helsinki.

All flights are late to take off and this one must have been around 30 minutes later than scheduled. We roared down the runway and up into the skies and most of the flight was fine, but loads of problems started to arise for me once we'd left the ground, not major problems, just hassles. Earlier, when I disembarked from the boat, I'd foolishly left my adaptor and phone charger in the socket by the desk. This in itself was odd as once I had finished packing my suitcase I triple-checked everything to ensure that nothing had been left behind. I'd cleared security on the way out when I remembered and was fortunately allowed back on the ship to retrieve my stuff. My big mistake, which would affect things later on, was that I shoved my charger and adaptor into my suitcase, which I later checked in when I reached the airport. Sitting in Nordic Kitchen I noticed that I had 24% battery left so I switched off the phone to save power, but then I realised I'd need it to show my boarding pass at the gate. I went to switch on the phone and it simply wouldn't power up (remember, this is a fairly new iphone, it's about a year, possibly two years old and I certainly didn't expect it to start playing the tricks my other iphones have played, ie switching themselves off when the battery was low but not that low. Anyway, not only was I now unable to use my phone, I noticed that my watch was powering down too and will probably need a new battery. At the gate I managed to get the aforementioned printed boarding pass but I had no way of knowing what time it was and I couldn't charge my phone because the charger was in my suitcase which I'd checked in. Annoying how earlier actions, however small, come back to bite me when I least expect it.

Generally speaking the flight was fine, but all hell broke lose around an hour before landing in the UK, the plane being buffeted from side-to-side in the wind and rain. In the end I was used to it and it didn't bother me, but I was distracted enough not to read my book. Not having a watch that worked meant I had no idea how long there was to go before we landed. Normally when I fly I'm always looking at my watch and counting down the hours and the minutes until the pilot announces that the plane is about to descend into wherever I happen to be going, but this time I had no idea. There was a bald-headed man in front of me watching boxing on his iphone and I managed to spot the time, 2154hrs, meaning we'd been up for a couple of hours and had just under an hour to go. The severe weather, however, offered me no hints. I couldn't see for a start so I had to wait and let things unfold without me; I grinned and beared it all. Suddenly the captain made an announcement, but first he made it in Finnish and it seemed to take ages; then he spoke English and basically he was saying we would shortly begin our descent into London Heathrow. That normally means we're around 25 to 30 minutes away from landing. 

The plane slowly descended, rocking to and fro as it made its way towards terra firma. Eventually things calmed down. Then, the usual announcement that always baffles me. "Cabin crew, 10 minutes to landing" and it's normally at this point that I look out of the window and notice lights way way below me and I start thinking there's no way he's going to get all that way in just 10 minutes. Some times they do, other times, well, I can never remember if they ever do it in 10 minutes. Next time I'll time it.

Once on the ground the plane wound its way around the tarmac and eventually came to a standstill, but then all the passengers had to get off and get their bags out of the overhead lockers. It took an age and I had a minicab waiting for me. The problem now, of course, was that I couldn't call the driver until I'd retrieved my case from baggage reclaim, found the charger and charged the phone. This I did, sitting in a Caffe Nero and when the phone lit up I noticed many missed calls from an unknown mobile number, it was my minicab driver. I called him and we arranged a meeting place. Outside there was driving rain and shiny streets and pavements, and it continued all the way home on the M25. It had been raining all day and if I'm honest, I preferred the minus 14 degrees of Helsinki.

I reached home around 2300hrs, hit the sack around 2330hrs and now here I am, it's Friday morning and I've got the day off, the rain has stopped and I'm in the garden room blogging. 

New Year's Eve ride to Tatsfield Village...

The weather app says 12 degrees, which is reasonably warm for this time of year, but what about that wind? It's not warm, I can tell you, it's cold and it went right through me as I pedalled along the 269 early on New Year's Eve. I left the house around 0813hrs and reached there about an hour later. The skies were dark and grey and yes, I did think about a possible downfall, but I didn't think too hard, mainly because there were encouraging signs in the skies above: breaks in the cloud, sunshine and potentially clearer skies. There had been overnight rain, I discovered, once I'd passed Sainsbury's in Warlingham and found myself on the more rural bit of the 269 that would take me all the way to Botley Hill and beyond. Roadside puddles were like black treacle, forcing me to take to the off-road path for a short while rather than risk straying into the middle of the road and being hit by a car. The wind was unpleasant, especially when I rode along Approach Road towards Tatsfield Village, but it wasn't long before I reached Sheree's and she knew my order. "Pot of tea?" I said yes and paid up. Andy had already ordered his latte and he had a few Biscoff biscuits in some silver foil, three for me, three for Andy, and a great snack it has to be said.

Library shot of Sheree's in Tatsfield village...

We chatted about Christmas and falling asleep in front of the television and then we moved on to talk about medical procedures, remembering Andy's hospital experiences when he broke his hip after coming off the bike earlier in the year. Was it this year or last? Catheters were mentioned and clearly overheard by Ken who came over to tell us all about his, not that we really wanted to know, and then he kept on talking about this and that ailment, eventually telling us that he was 82 years old and how he kept fit by walking, with professional-looking sticks he'd left outside. He was a nice guy and a regular at Sheree's, but I hope that doesn't mean we have to talk about end-of-life ailments every time we go in there; let's hope not.

I'll be honest. I don't want to hear about illness and poor health and catheters and the pointlessness of the human condition, or Mortimer and Whitehouse going on and on about it on television. Why talk it all up? I just don't want to. I'm not ready to be an old man just yet. I'm not old! I ride a bike, I walk a lot, I'm still working (and I love it) and I just don't want to hear anything negative or depressing. I used to like watching Mortimer and Whitehouse's Gone Fishing until I realised that eventually they will start whingeing about their aches and pains and ailments. I don't want to hear about 'your bad knees' or how you can't do this or that anymore, I don't want to hear it. I can't be bothered with it anymore, it's not funny, it's depressing, and it's made a lot worse at this time of year when it seems to me as if the grim reaper is working over time, killing off various celebrities so we all have to put up with 'people we lost in 2023'. I think I mentioned that bit in a previous post, but it seems to be inescapable at present, what with Mortimer and Whitehouse - yes, that's the third time I've mentioned them since I started writing this paragraph, and Ken at Sheree's. Andy and I have had our fill of it, it has to be said, and to be fair to us both, we never mentioned our own personal tragedies today (for mine, click here) In fact, I made a point of steering clear of the subject and I think Andy was doing the same. Perhaps our chat about catheters was ill-advised, not that we were to know that Ken would come over and expand on the conversation. I got the feeling we might have been there all morning, but Andy visited the bathroom, which set the ball in motion for us to start preparing to leave. I stood up, Andy returned and we headed for home. We're now on first name terms with Sheree. Andy introduced himself and so did I so it's all good. I couldn't tell you the names of anybody at the Costa in Westerham.

Taking shelter from a downpour...

A few hundred yards into the ride and it started to rain. As I reached the covered Tatsfield Bus Stop it was getting fairly heavy. So heavy that I decided to take shelter there, it was like old times minus Andy and the flask of tea. The rain and the wind combined and what was initially vertical rain became almost horizontal, forcing me to sit on the back rest of the bench and lean back against the rear wall of the shelter. I was there for around 20 minutes, watching the rain fall and fall and fall and then suddenly the sun came out and the rain stopped so off I went. While it did start again, it wasn't that heavy so I put up with it, deciding to take the off-road path rather than get drenched at close quarters by the passing cars. But I was mistaken if I thought I'd keep dry on the off-road path. Oh no, I got drenched by passing cars as they whizzed past, kicking up a shed load of spray. I might as well have asked somebody to throw a bucket of water at me at regular intervals. Even though I was a considerable distance from the cars, the water thrown up was like a wave and it hit me square on the side of my face every time. I wasn't safe until I reached Warlingham Sainsbury's and rejoined the road.

The bike sheltering from the rain...

I can't remember exactly what time I reached home, but as soon as I did I stripped off my wet clothes and made myself some marmalade on toast, just what the doctor ordered. The plan is to ride tomorrow, weather permitting, and visit Sheree's again. We like Sheree's because Sheree herself is an excellent person who brings that much-needed personal touch and some much-needed happiness. All of a sudden, Sheree's has become our go to venue for a weekend ride. Alright, it's not as far as Westerham in terms of fitness, but it's a pleasant experience and that's what it's all about at the end of the day, being relaxed, chilled and happy.

I've got a fish finger sandwich on the way and I can't wait, then it's another night of sitting in front of the television until I feel tired enough to hit the sack. Knowing me I'll probably watch Jools Holland, I always do, but the problem is it's so 80s, as indeed is Jools himself. I'm hoping not to see Ade Edmondson and Jennifer Saunders and also that self-proclaimed twat, Dawn French. How boring was Imagine? Very! Anyway, here's hoping there will be some good music and not all that obscure stuff he crams into Later... but I'm not holding out much hope if I'm honest. I'd like to see Glen Matlock playing bass so here's hoping!

It's past midnight now, so Happy New Year to all my readers. Guess what, Hootenanny was poor, no Glen Matlock, unless he's on now. If so I wouldn't know because I've switched to BBC1 to watch the fireworks. Bed beckons. Good night.

Too weak to resist biscuits, cakes and cappuccinos...but I've been on the trim wheel!

I've been sleeping well and I put it down to Celestial tea, which I purchased back in May at a CVS in Detroit. I included in my purchase some Sleepy Time tea (known by me as Sleepy Time Bear tea because there's an illustration of a bear sitting in front of a real fire making himself cosy and warm). Not that you'd want to be 'cosy and warm' on a summer's day. Anyhow I bought the tea and I've almost finished the lot. The Sleepy Time Bear tea ran out about three to four weeks ago (I used to have one around 2200hrs and then hit the sack - and it worked!) Then there was a box of Celestial tea, a kind of assortment pack including a few sachets of Sleepy Time Bear and now they've gone except for around two, possibly three camomile teas (which are really potent). These past few weeks I've been sleeping well. Hitting the sack around 2300hrs and not waking up until around 0600hrs. That's good enough for me; an unbroken sleep, that's what counts, and it makes me feel better generally. So I'm going to buy some more of these great teas. Yeah, I know, I could simply go to the supermarket and buy some Pukka teas, but they're not as good and now I'm of the opinion that stuff in the US (and I'll include over-the-counter drugs like Nurofen and other painkillers) is a little more potent, a bit stronger than what you get over here. Anyway, that's for later on. I'll sneak on to Amazon and load up with Sleepy Time Bear teas. I might also get myself some of the camomile tea as it's great and there's nowt better than getting a good night's sleep.

"Number three crop, please!"

I woke up this morning around 0600hrs and then must have drifted off again because I awoke again around 0649hrs. Alright, that 0649 was such a precise time that I'll admit the word 'around' doesn't come into it, not one bit. I woke up at 0649hrs. The only way 'around' could have come into would have been if I awoke 'around' 0650hrs. You can be vague and precise at the same time, it's either around 0650 or it's bang on the nail 'I woke up at 0649hrs', one minute before 0650hrs. How much more precise would you want me to be?

I'll admit that sometimes when I wake up and make my way downstairs to the kitchen that I start to want some kind of change. I think it's the breakfast I eat. Every morning I have the same thing and sometimes I can't face it: Alpen with sliced bananas, a mug of tea (either green or black), an orange cut into segments, a glass of warm water and two slices of bread and marmalade (or honey). My big problem at present is bread. I've gone from eating three slices a day to eight: two in the morning, two with sandwiches at lunch time, two when I get in from work and possibly another two if I'm still feeling hungry. At the moment I seem to be hungry all the time, so much so that in addition to my sandwiches, grapes and an apple at noon, I then go out and have a large English breakfast tea and two ginger biscuits in Costa or...a large (albeit 'regular') cappuccino and a slice of carrot cake with orange icing in Busy Beans (an artisan coffee shop). Then there's always the M&S cafe where a cappuccino and an iced bun always go well together. And let's not forget the caff where I go for a cup of tea if it's raining and this week it has rained a bit so the walk was cancelled and the Pop Inn came into play. Sometimes, in addition to the mug of tea I might have a slice or two of toast with marmalade, but not this week, it was just the tea. And just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water, what about those Grenade bars? What about them? Well, first there's the cost, which varies depending on where you buy them, they appear to range from £2.85 to £3.00 per bar but they certainly do the trick. Eat one of them and your hunger will disappear. On one day last week I had a custard Danish instead of the Grenade and ever since I've been trying to work out what is best, the pastry or the Grenade? Certainly where cost is concerned, the pastry (at £1) is best, but you know what? I prefer the Grenade even if I could have three pastries for the price of one Grenade.

Coughlans Oxted... it's not a bad place. Note bike on right

With all this eating going on, I console myself with the fact that I take the bus home for nothing, reducing my weekly fares by £25/week AND I have a good walk (every night) when I get off the bus (around 1.6 miles). If there's torrential rain, as there was earlier in the week, I'll call home and see if I can get a lift.The other day, the heavens opened and I mean opened. Let's just say it was torrential. It was so bad that the bus sent waves of rain water from the gutters on to the pavements, proper breaking waves, it was unbelievable. On that day I asked for a lift and was glad when it came even if I was thinking it had calmed down enough to make completing the walk feasible. So, I've been doing the 1.6-mile walk every week day now for some time, possibly for one month and when I get home the first thing I do is make that toast and marmalade in the kitchen and then take a seat in the living room where I watch either the One Show or the early evening news on the television. Last week I restarted watching Detectorists. I reckon I've seen all series at least four, possibly five times.

Something else I've started up is a trim wheel. I've been rolling backwards and forwards on my Gold's gym trim wheel on and off all week, although I have missed a couple days too, but not today. I'm going to keep it up and I'm also considering swimming too (if I can get my act together to sign up for monthly membership. I just hope I don't have to use the app to book a slot like I had to during the pandemic, which basically meant I never bothered going. That said, a few weeks back I went to a leisure centre and they said the app thing was still the only way to get a swim, which annoyed me, so perhaps I'll stay away. 

It was too early for lunch...

Despite the lack of cycling today and the fact that it's raining and that August looks as if it's going to be just as bad as July, it's turning out to be a really nice day in other respects...although that is partly because, again, I've gone and over-indulged on the cakes. Well, an almond croissant. This morning I noticed that there was a huge Starbucks next door to and M&S Food store so I convinced my wife, pal and saviour (that's just one person by the way) that we should pay a visit, which we did. And while I should have ordered a tea and nothing more I decided to order a cappuccino and the aforementioned almond croissant. It's as if I can't help myself. In fact, less of the 'as if', it's purely a case of I can't help myself. But, forget the croissant and the coffee, it was all about the chat and relaxing and starting to feel good about things in general and now I'm home having 'done the shopping' and I'm sitting at the dining room table, lap top in front of me, another cup of tea and (dare I even mention it) a slice of walnut cake and I'm thinking about nothing in particular. While in M&S I picked up a copy of the Economist only to discover that it was their 'summer special' and cost a ridiculous £9.99. Remember 'Summer Specials'? I'll always remember the Beano and the Dandy summer specials: twice the size of the conventional comics, they invariably featured an illustration on the front cover of a Punch & Judy show on a beach with bright yellow sand and a star fish somewhere to be seen and I loved them because it always meant that the summer holidays were coming and we were off to the beach somewhere on the south coast. Happy days!

I'm hoping tomorrow will be better weather. I think it will be. The plan (as always on a Sunday) is to meet Andy in Westerham. Unfortunately, Andy has aborted the ride so it's to me to motivate myself. Let's see (let's hope). Last week I managed two rides. The first was an interesting one because it started off as just a ride around the block, but extended itself as it went along. So instead of doing the Nobbler I continued up Church Way with a view to doing a Washpond Weeble in reverse. I turned left into Ledgers Road from the 269 but instead of turning left again and heading back home I turned right on Washpond Road and then right again on to Beech Farm Road, travelled the length of it and then hung a left on the 269 riding towards Botley Hill where a stark choice lay before me: do I hang a right on to The Ridge and ride home very Woldingham OR do I go straight ahead and down the hill into Oxted? I chose the latter as I needed a haircut and figured I could kill two birds with one stone. Titsey Hill was fine but when I reached the bottom I found the road to be closed. Fortunately, it was really only closed to cars so I managed to edge past the roadworks and sail safely into to Oxted where, once again, I was tempted by Coughlans bakery and a coconut Bakewell and a cup of tea. Across the road was Oxted Barbers so I nipped in for a quick number three crop and then finished off with another cup of tea (I felt that elated!). The barber only accepted cash and the haircut was £17 - that's up £7 from what it was just a year or two ago. With the remaining three pound coins I decided upon another tea, but not another cake. Unfortunately for me, the only newspaper in the racks was the Daily Mail (exposing the political leanings of Coughlans customers) so I sat in the sunshine reading the awful Boris Johnson's rubbish column in which he stated "Get Rwanda Done" - it was an old copy.

The ride home took me up the very steep Chalkpit Lane. Once at the top I turned left, rode into Woldingham and down Slines Oak Road to the 269 where I turned left and followed the road into Warlingham and then Sanderstead.

On Sunday Andy and I rode to Tatsfield Village and sat outside chatting for over an hour drinking tea and coffee and munching some Biscoff creams (if that's what they're called). Again, I fell at the first fence and went and bought myself a packet. I munched half of it before we rode home and spent the rest of the day feeling slightly guilty.

Last Sunday I rode into Tatsfield Village to meet Andy. He had met with an accident whilst on a short cycling break to the Isle of Wight, but nothing stops Andy, which is good. Thankfully, it was only cuts and bruises, but I don't like it when he meets with an accident especially after his broken hip just over a year ago. Still, he seems fine, which is all that matters.

My exercise during the week was just walking. On one day (I think it was Monday) I walked over six miles but for the rest of the week it was the 1.6-mile walk from the bus stop to home, but that has been a regular fixture for around a month now. 

I drove to Tunbridge Wells this afternoon along a rain-sodden A21. Once there I strolled from the shopping mall down the hill to a music shop close to the station. There was a persistent, drizzling rain, but fortunately it was only around 10 minutes' walk. When I reached the store there were no bass guitars to look at; I've always had a desire to learn how to play one, but (as with everything I want to do) I simply never get around to it or have other things to spend the money on. Other frustrations include the purchase of a Harley Davidson 883 Hugger, although, admittedly, I'm rather glad that little hobby, make that obsession, eluded me as I'd probably be dead now, not that I ever had the spare cash to buy one.

Today's rain was both persistent and sporadic. As I made my way back up the hill towards the mall, the sun was shining, but later, as I drove along the A21 heading home the rain was heavy, so heavy that I had to slow right down. 

Now home I've been listening to BBC Radio London and Gary Crowley's show, all fairly chilled. I need to be chilled now and then as I spend all week working and it's good to be on the stepping stones of Saturday and Sunday before wading back into the maelstrom on Monday. And on that note, I'll sign off.

Just one ride this weekend...

Oxted on Saturday morning...

The day started with rain and I just knew I'd have to abort the ride. It was to be one of those days. The worst part of it was a little later - and by that I mean around 0900 - when the sun came out, but the momentum had already been lost. I don't know, sometimes it happens, the desire leaves me and I find myself envisioning being out there and I feel odd about it. I just don't want to go, the motivation leaves the building but it takes me a long time to realise it. I swan around, I fret, I look outside, I wonder, I sit and I think, I hesitate, but deep down I know darn well that I ain't going nowhere. Eventually I accept it and accept it I did, and then things were better, things levelled out inside my head, but I wasn't relaxed, not until later, on a drive to Sutton to see mum, but first we had to find something for her 93rd birthday, which is on Wednesday 23 November. The darkening skies and the fading light as we walked along Westmead Road was evocative of something, probably my earlier life at home. There was something very 'Saturday afternoon in the 70s' about it, soap opera teens on street corners, winter clothes on, front rooms illuminated but curtains not drawn, and then the shops advertising Christmas, festive music playing and gullible consumers buying into it all. I found it slightly annoying if I'm truthful, the gullibility mainly, the fact that the capitalists put on the music and we dance to their tune, and the goods aren't that good either. Women are still wearing Ugg boots, more's the pity. I spotted a few as I wandered the high street, popping into various shops and not wanting to be a part of the con, because that's what it is. The con depressed me as I considered the so-called cost of living crisis. I never seem to have any money around Christmas time, but I reckon this year will be the worse... or perhaps not. It's hard to tell to be honest. We reached mum's after dark, around 1642hrs. Tea and KitKats followed, mum had the heating on, and her coal-effect gas fire was in full swing. We sipped tea and munched the KitKats, mum keeps them in the fridge so there's no mess. We sat and we chatted. The house looked cosy. It always does. Christmas lights have yet to arrive, but it always looks like Christmas at mum's. I considered another KitKat, but that was all I did, consider another KitKat. There's more rain on the agenda. Only Tuesday is rain-free, according to my iphone, but who the fuck am I kidding? It's dark by 4pm, I won't be riding the bike, probably not until next weekend, but it looks like it'll be raining next weekend too. I really need to look at another form of exercise. Swimming, perhaps. I used to swim a lot, three times a week: two half-milers and then one mile. The only problem with swimming is the boredom. Counting lengths. Not a good idea if you're prone to miscounting. The World Cup is on. Qatar. Nobody likes the place with it's poor human rights record. Comedian Joe Lycett protested against Beckham's greed by shredding £10,000 of his own money*. Fair enough, I thought, as I considered Beckham pocketing £10 million for being an ambassador for the Qatar World Cup. Personally, I can't get enthusiastic about the footy, not in the winter. The great thing about the World Cup is the summer... but not this year. It's now Monday night. I should be in bed because I had a late one yesterday. I watch I'm A Celeb and then the news and soon it's 2300hrs. Put all this together and it's not good: less exercise, later nights, it's not good and it has to change and the key is motivation, which I'm currently lacking.

* Lycett didn't shred the money, he donated it to charity and instead shredded a copy of Attitude magazine in which there was an article on David Beckham. 

Last Sunday's ride to Westerham in Kent...

For the past two Sundays now I've bitten the bullet and taken a ride in the rain, but not just to shops and back, oh no: a 22-mile ride to and from Westerham in Kent. The first time, the Sunday before last, it was the result of knowing I had to sort out the sealant around the bath, a job I not only dislike but one I'm not particularly good at; and it was the latter point that drove me out in the pouring rain, the knowledge that I was taking on something I wasn't particularly good at made me throw caution to the wind and get out there to get one last bit of enjoyment before plunging myself headfirst into despondency, one last ride before the boredom of DIY. 

Last week, ie the Sunday just past, it was a case of 'if you can do it once, you can do it again' and by that I mean that being out in the rain isn't really that bad, not once you get used to it and accept that you're going to get wet and that's the end of it. I had the cape, the bright yellow and grey cape and while it did keep me dry, to a degree, I did get wet. I remember reaching home and taking off the cape only to discover that my fleece underneath it was damp, alright, wet, but that might have been the sweat created by the cape. The long and the short it is simple: whatever you wear you're going to get wet so get over it, which I did.

Cappuccino and an almond croissant in the rain

Last week, as I rode down to Westerham to meet Andy (if you remember, we didn't meet the week before because we got our wires crossed); initially we talked about Westerham, then I threw in Tatsfield Village and the end result was Andy went to Tatsfield and I went to Westerham. But anyway, as I was saying, I rode along in the rain, riding through puddles and, as I approached the northern Kent market town I started to wonder - or perhaps that's not the word - I started to imagine Andy not sitting inside Costa out of the rain, but sitting outside and I began to think: 'no, he wouldn't do that, why would he do that?' I couldn't get the thought out of my mind, mainly because I didn't fancy sitting outside in the pouring rain. Much to my amazement, when I reached my destination, there he was sitting outside in the rain, admittedly under a canopy, but right on the edge of it - he was sitting outside! And what's more, he didn't look too happy. Later, after ordering a cappuccino and an almond croissant, which set me back around £4 (Costa is far cheaper) I asked him why the long face? The answer was simple and totally understandable, it was the poor weather and also perhaps he was looking into the future and wondering what he would do when he retired or whether there was something else he could do with his life now. I understood what he was saying as it's something I'm always doing: wondering what if, what else I could do and then the chilling realisation that there was nothing (short of selling up and living in a cottage by the sea on the Isle of Harris). We sat under the canopy. I'd taken off my cape and was watching the rain and talking about futures and what ifs and this and that and it is a sobering conversation that lingers and gets me thinking. But I think something I don't take into consideration (and I'm sure Andy's the same) is that what we have is alright, at least we're both working in fairly steady jobs, we can afford to get our bikes fixed and sit in a cafe, in the rain, on a Sunday morning and what we're really dealing with here is what Ian Brown refers to in a song as 'first world problems'. He's right, that's what we have here, first world problems, we don't have to worry about Russian bombs or the Iranian Morality Police or famine, all we have to worry about is getting back home on our bikes in the rain.

When it was time to go I lingered, saying goodbye to Andy and adding that I'd see him next week, ie this coming Sunday and let's hope it doesn't rain this week.

I rode back via the Velobarn and along Pilgrims and then, while I considered Titsey Hill, the idea of doing it in the driving rain put me off so I hung a left up Rectory Lane and followed the more conventional route back from Westerham along Clarks Lane and then down the 269, all of which was fine.

Today is Friday 4th November, the 49th anniversary of the Battle of Kiln Castle, the big battle in my childhood home's back garden in 1974 when my brother and I decided to stop playing with our toy soldiers. Almost 50 years ago, can you believe that? I can't. Anyway, that's another story for another day, although I think I've written about it on this blog somewhere. In fact, click on the link to read more about the Battle of Kiln Castle 1974.

Oxted, Westerham, rain, a great movie, a DIY chore...

I hope to ride this morning. It's currently 0648hrs and while I'm guessing, I'd say it's still pretty dark outside. Well, perhaps not dark in the true sense of the word, but certainly I'd question whether lights were needed. The riding to work has stopped, but I know there are train strikes coming up and I might make the exception for those days, although I'll need to have lights sorted out. Next week, I think, the clocks go back and that's a terrible moment for me as I hate the winter months with a vengeance as dark nights (what nights aren't dark?) mean it's more dangerous to ride a bike. As I mentioned in my last post, the gym beckons. I'm planning on riding a stationary bike during the dark months and then resuming riding to work twice a week once the clocks go forward in March, we'll see how things go.

So here we are, 22 October 2022 and I'm nearly five years into my abstinence from boozing (I gave up on 28 October 2017). I'm absolutely fine with it; I've never ever felt the need for a drink and generally speaking I feel better in myself for not drinking. I plan to keep going even if not drinking means I lose friends. It's true. Some people only want you around if you're drinking, either because they like it when you mess up, make a fool of yourself or worse OR they just want a drinking partner. I've suggested meeting friends (or a friend) in a coffee shop and they refused, stating in not so many words that it was the pub or nothing: 'you can have a lemonade if you want'. So we didn't meet and probably never will. People don't like it when they discover I've given up the booze, they see it as some kind of affront towards them and their way of life, perhaps they think I'm judging them (I'm not) but either way not drinking puts certain types of people on a back foot, they think I'm a threat, perhaps that's it. Anyway, I don't care. I prefer not to drink, I prefer not to have a hangover or make a fool of myself or end up in a police cell.

Red sky on Saturday morning...

I'm hoping it won't rain. Today is Saturday 22nd October and it's my ride to Oxted. I'm planning on taking a book with me so I can read for half an hour, hopefully on the leather sofa in Caffe Nero, and then I'll ride home again.

I still haven't cleaned my chain. I keep meaning to but I never get round to it; perhaps later today.

In an ideal world I'd ride four times a week. Currently I'm back on twice a week, but even one extra ride would help things along, although I need to sort out my lights for sure. In a nutshell I need to get my act together.

Arundel Castle

Yesterday (Friday) I took the day off and we went to Arundel Castle. Unbelievably, I've never been before. It cost £50 to get in (two tickets) but it was well worth the effort. Normally I'm pretty cynical about walking around stately homes and listening to the guides, but this was something else. For a start it wasn't a stately home, it was a castle, and the guides were personable people and it was a pleasure to listen to what they had to say. We started the tour in the restaurant: Cornish pasty and a pot of tea set me up nicely and soon I was on my way to the Keep, which offered great views across Arundel to the sea at nearby Littlehampton. Arundel Castle is owned by the Duke of Norfolk, he's in charge of organising the King's coronation, which I'm told will be a dumbed down affair due to the rising cost of living. I guess old Charles doesn't want to feel guilty about everybody visiting food banks and being on the breadline and who can blame him for that? Personally, if I was him, I'd do it in the pub, perhaps a Chef & Brewer, complete with a few mini Melton Mowbray pies and some chicken legs. Forget the horse-drawn carriages and the limos, just get Station Cars in Purley to take him and the Queen Consort back to wherever they live and why bother televising it. Well, I suppose you could televise it, but just use iphones, no need for expensive equipment. Get the local rag to cover it and Bob's your uncle. But I digress. Arundel Castle was fantastic and it's good to hear that the old Duke still lives there and that the amazing bedrooms we passed by on the tour are still used by guests of the Duke today. How amazing is that. It really is an impressive place and while I was a little scathing about it due to the price of admission, I would actually say that it was good value for money even if I did 'tweet' to the contrary yesterday. I love Arundel, it's a nice place and it's close to the sea, which is good.

Riding to Oxted

It's now 0710hrs and I'm thinking of leaving early, departing at 0730hrs, that would mean I reach my destination at around 0830hrs, I stick around for 30 minutes reading and then I head home. I should get back around 1000hrs.

Well, I got back at 1010hrs and it was a great ride. I followed the 269 to Botley Hill and then rode down Titsey Hill into Oxted. I parked up opposite the charity shop, padlocked the bike and was early enough to get the leather sofa by the window where I sat with an English Breakfast tea reading until it was time to head home but this time riding up Titsey Hill. I do it every week and it's a doddle, and what's more the weather was fine.

Sunday I watched the rain...

To Westerham in the rain

Now it is 0738 on Sunday morning and just a second ago I heard an enormous clap of thunder. Rain is hammering down outside and I've just sent Andy an abort text. We'll look again around 0900. Who knows? We might get a ride in... but we might not. But suddenly I felt as if I had to go, weather be damned, but it had stopped. The rain had stopped and when I looked out the skies were clearing. And then I guess they clouded over again but it didn't stop me wanting to get out there. I found an old hi-viz cape in the garage. I figured it would keep me dry even if I had issues with it a couple summers ago. I don't know, I can't remember, but I felt it was ineffective. The thing is it was hi-viz and that's what I needed with all the cloud floating around. I didn't have any lights, I simply wasn't prepared for dark skies during the daylight hours, so I donned the cape, looking like some kind of dumb superhero. I was wearing cycling shorts underneath, which didn't seem right for some reason, but that's the way it was as I rode along Ellenbridge, up Elmfield, left on Morley and up Church Way. Then I rode along the Limpsfield Road and I won't say it wasn't raining, it was and it kind of rained throughout the ride.

Tatsfield village or Westerham?

The plan was to meet Andy in Westerham. Tatsfield village had been discussed (all via text) and then I changed my mind and said let's meet in Westerham. I rode the usual way: along Clarks Lane and down the hill, the roads wet and shiny and small rivers following me on the side of the road. It was difficult to avoid puddles as they were everywhere, particularly along the 269, keeping me veering into the centre of the road, not a good policy on the 269. I mentioned Tatsfield because I thought it would be less of a journey in the rain, but then, when I changed my mind it was because I wanted the challenge, I wanted the rain if I'm honest, I needed something and I don't know why. Actually, I do know why. The prospect of fixing the sealant around the bath was looming and I know I'm crap at anything DIY so I thought a long and punishing ride in the rain would sort me out. I'm not saying the ride would make me any more keener, any more up for doing the task, but I needed to get out there because I know that when DIY tasks arise there are people assessing my performance, which I know will be crap, and I get on the defensive, I get a little angry, a little tense, it's stress and I hate it because I know what I'm like, I get abusive, there's foul language and I don't mean it, I just get edgy because I hate doing DIY and I hate doing DIY because I know I do it badly, there are always rough edges if you get my drift. So the ride was because of all that. I could have aborted, I could have stayed in the warm, drinking green tea and surfing the internet, but instead I chose to get out there, in the rain, a kind of penance, perhaps that was it, I don't know. But look, it doesn't matter. I got out there, I didn't really care about getting wet, not that I did get a soaking, that cape did it's job. And when I reached Westerham I was elated to discover that I was there first. I thought Andy would be there, not outside the store as he had been these past few months, but inside, in the warm, listening to whatever they were piping through the sound system. But he wasn't there, I'd gotten there first.

Thick fog at Botley Hill so I turned left for Woldingham...

Like ships in the night

I ordered an English breakfast tea in a paper cup and then I ordered a toasted teacake with butter. No jam, no honey. The woman behind the counter said she'd bring it over when it was ready. I took a seat by the window and looked out at my bike that sat outside in the rain getting wetter and wetter as the rain poured down. Where, I wondered, was Andy. I left it a while as anything might have happened. A puncture, a later start than me, I don't know, but in the end of sent him a text stating that I had a good seat, in one of the windows, the small little bays, there were two of them. He texted back saying he was at Tatsfield village, probably in Sheree's Tearoom. He hadn't seen my later texts, the ones that said I'd see him in Westerham and not Tatsfield. We agreed to meet next weekend as there was nothing either of us could do about it. I sat there and finished my tea. I wish I'd packed a book but I hadn't so I resumed staring out of the window at the falling rain, waiting for it to stop so I could ride home. I needed a window, a gap, a space, a pause, a break in the rain and sure enough there was one. I finished my tea, put the cape on and headed out, but the rain started just as soon as I'd riden past the old antique shop on my way out towards the Velobarn. The bike was buffeted by the wind and the rain and cars passing too close as I rode towards Pilgrims Lane and I was relieved, if that's the right word, to turn left and leave behind the main road. Pilgrims Lane was quiet and because of the poor weather I didn't see any other cyclists, they were all at home, in the warm, keeping dry and watching Sunday morning television. I crossed Clarks Lane into the final section of Pilgrims and was facing a dilemma: do I turn right on to Rectory Lane and rejoin Clarks or go straight ahead and take on Titsey in the rain? I opted for the latter and as always I sailed up the hill, and as I got higher and higher there was mist. When I reached Botley Hill it was a real pea souper so I veered left and rode into Woldingham. Everywhere was dark and misty and it didn't brighten up until I was riding down Slines Oak Road and heading towards the last hill of the ride. The rain continued and wasn't going to let up until I reached home, but at least things had brightened up and I no longer needed lights. It was as if I'd been in a dark tunnel most of the ride but suddenly all was well, the need for lights had gone and there wasn't much longer to go before I reached home. Not that I wanted to reach home. Home meant sorting out the bathroom sealant and there would little more than a cup of tea between me and the chore.

Mr Hannigan's Phone

I won't bore you with the chore, but suffice it to say that I did it. I'm not saying I did it particularly well, although the outcome won't be known until the morning when I strip off the masking tape. I'm guessing it won't be brilliant but that's all I can say about it. I feel a bit bad for being such an arsehole, but I'll have to get over it. Right now I'm watching a movie, Mr. Hannigan's Phone, it's an adaptation of a Stephen King short story starring Donald Sutherland. I've got a camomile tea on the go, I'm hoping it'll help me get a good night's sleep. I'd better go, the movie's getting good and I can't think of anything else to say other than I enjoyed the ride. Normally I wouldn't enjoy such a ride, but for some reason I really enjoyed being out there in the weather, in the driving rain, wearing the cape, battling against the elements and trying to take my mind off that awful job, the bathroom sealant, the job which is now done, the job which is not forgotten because it might come back to haunt me, who knows? Tomorrow I'll know whether it's good or a bad job, whether it'll need doing again and whatever else, like my reputation, which is probably in tatters anyway because of my foul language. I just hate being the underdog, the guy that can't do something properly, I don't like being challenged in that way because I reckon there are things we're all good at and things we're not so good at, but I hate having to do the things I'm not so good at because, well, I'm not so good at them. I've lost my train of thought. Mr Harrigan's Phone is a good movie, that's why, so I'll leave it there, say my goodbyes, so to speak. Until next time.

As the year draws to a close...

When I looked out on Sunday (last week) there was a persistent rain and it didn't look as if it was going to stop. In days gone by, an abort text would have been sent, but because our mindset on cycling has changed, it was still 100% game on. The plan was to go to Westerham, but we couldn't remember whether the Costa Coffee was open. There was only one way to find out: ride there and see for ourselves. Andy texted the plan: whoever gets there first, checks out the Costa and then, if it's closed, sets up shop in the small memorial gardens next to the Co-op. Well, I knew it wouldn't be me that got there first. For a start, I was faffing around doing something I haven't done for some time: making a flask of hot water, finding some teabags and some milk and basically preparing like I used to for a pre-pandemic ride. To be honest, I was hoping that I wouldn't be using the flask. I was looking forward to my large English breakfast tea, and being as it was Boxing Day, I was already considering a cake of some description. But then I remembered Sheree's Tea Rooms in Tatsfield Village. I knew it was open on Boxing day so all I had to do was text Andy and ask him to meet me there. But it wasn't that easy. Andy had already left his house and, like me, would not be looking at his phone until he reached his destination.

Seasonal decorations on the Nobbler...

After all the faffing about, I was finally out of the house and on the bike around 0815hrs, so that's a quarter hour behind my originally scheduled arrival time. It normally takes me around one hour door-to-door so now I'd be getting there around 0915.

The rain continued, but I was wearing my parka, hood up over my crash helmet, and it was good. So good that I didn't really notice the rain. I was, however, wearing a pair of green cords over my cycling shorts and sooner or later the rain would soak through. In fairness, it was a slow process. I stopped and took shelter momentarily when I reached Sanderstead Waitrose, a chance to see if Andy had responded to my earlier text about Tatsfield. He hadn't. Then I set off for Westerham, heading initially for Warlingham Green and then, of course, the 269 to Botley Hill and beyond. Halfway along the route Andy sent a text. He'd reached Westerham. I told him I'd get there by around 0930hrs and he said he'd be there, which was good. I had thought about going to Tatsfield village and a cup of tea and a Millionaire's Shortbread at Sheree's, but once I knew that Costa was open and that Andy would be there when I arrived, I 'put my feet down' and continued on my way to the Northern Kent market town of Westerham. The rain slowed a little and as I powered down Clarks Lane had almost stopped.

I felt good because I hadn't aborted the ride and, as with most things, riding in the rain isn't as bad as it seems. It was fine, although my trousers were getting damper and damper, but it was nothing a bit of warmth couldn't cure. Andy was already sitting at a table enjoying his coffee when I bowled through the door. We were two of around six people in the shop and that felt good. I wasn't THAT wet either, only my legs were experiencing a mild dampness and that slowly disappeared as I warmed up. There was no queue either so I ordered a large English Breakfast tea and a Bakewell tart and joined Andy at his table. We talked about a variety of topics: decent rear lights, cheap bikes, giving up cars altogether, living a more minimalist life and the commercialism of Christmas. 

Nativity scene in Arundel Avenue

Andy left around 1022hrs I and continued to slob around for another 10 minutes before heading for home. The rain had all but stopped and I followed the road towards the Velo Barn, taking a left on to Pilgrims Lane and then crossing Clarks Lane and continuing along the next section of Pilgrims, turning right on to Rectory Lane and then rejoining Clarks Lane. I rode into Woldingham along The Ridge and then down Slines Oak Road and up the other side towards the 269, taking the steep climb at the end of Sline's Oak in my stride. It was then a case of riding into Warlingham and around the green, through Hamsey and onwards to Sanderstead.

There was a fair amount of fog around too.

More Christmas lights in Arundel Avenue

Shorter daily rides have now become a regular habit. Today, as I write this, it is New Year's Eve, 0946hrs and I make no pretence of the fact that I'm slobbing around on the lap top, but rest assured that I will be out there later on, probably after dark, riding around amidst the Christmas lights of Norfolk and Arundel Avenues. I've mentioned these rides before, they're 5.94 milers and they take around 35 minutes. I think I would be faster if I went out earlier in the day. 

There's nothing better than riding after dark over the Christmas holidays as there are plenty of decorations on display as I ride my circuit and they all add a dreamlike quality to the ride that I don't get at any other time. That said, other seasons, like the summer and the autumn, have their own attractions and I love them all.

Happy New Year to all my readers!

My week on (and off) the bike...

It's Thursday afternoon, 30 September, almost 1400hrs, and there's a blustery wind blowing up outside. The skies are grey and the temperature has dropped, not considerably, but enough to make people start talking about winter. I'm hoping that in around two hours I'll be out on the bike, riding the Washpond Weeble, a 12.5 mile ride. With a bit of luck I'll be out on Friday too and then, if the rain holds off, a ride to Westerham will round off my week on Saturday. There is talk of rain at the weekend, but I'm hoping that 'abort' texts will be off the agenda. On Sunday, as long as it's not horrendous conditions, I'll probably pack a towel and get out there. In essence, I'm hoping for a respectable 70 miles this week, unlike last week's rides, which totalled just over 60 miles.

Westerham Costa, 2nd October 2021

So far this week I've put in over 22 miles on a ride to Westerham to meet Andy on Sunday. We did what we always do: sit outside and chill for half an hour or so before heading home. I rode up Titsey Hill again and then home via Washpond Lane, a kind of Westerham Weeble if you will. The outward ride was straight up the 269. On Sundays it's fine as there's not much in the way of traffic.

Damp cycling shorts

But let's get back to Thursday 30 September and my afternoon ride. It never happened. The rain started and my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet, cold and damp, so I stayed in the house, glad in a way that I hadn't been caught out as there's a chill in the air now and things are starting to look unpleasant, unlike in the summer when, I recall, I rode to Knockholt and it tipped down. I remember standing outside the general stores in the centre of the village eating a Snickers bar in the rain and then cycling along Main Road towards Sundridge Lane and then Pilgrims.

It's now Friday morning, just gone 0700hrs and a day of work looms, but hopefully, either at lunch time or this afternoon, I'll be riding the Weeble. In all honesty, I have to ride today and then head for Westerham tomorrow to equal last week's piss poor performance of just over 60 miles. Let's see what transpires.

What transpired was a pleasant ride through the country lanes towards Washpond Lane, but instead of turning right and following the usual route I rode the length of Beech Farm Road until I reached the 269 where I turned left and headed for Botley Hill. I rounded the roundabout and then hung a left on to The Ridge, which took me into Woldingham, down Slines Oak Road and then up the steep hill at the end, which found me back on the 269 and heading home, a total of 17.43 miles.

The weatherman says it will rain

It's now Saturday morning and I awoke thinking there would be rain hammering down on next door's flat roof extension, but no, there's nothing. In fact, it looks like a very pleasant morning as the clock races towards 0800hrs. The big question is this: do I risk going out? Do I risk riding to Westerham? Do I put in a quick Weeble? Or do I sit here, let the rain come and forget about it? It's a tough choice, but in the end I decided to head for Westerham, bugger the rain, not that there was any, well, not until I was safely ensconced in Costa Coffee sipping a large paper mug of English breakfast tea. It had started to drizzle as I rode past the garage just prior to arriving in central Westerham, although that word 'central' sounds wrong as Westerham isn't very big, it's just a sleepy high street and nothing much on either side. But it started to rain and it didn't bother me because it wasn't cold. I sat in my favourite seat looking out at the high street and the chemist across the road offering free flu jabs while you wait. Not for me. I know too many people who had a flu jab and then felt terrible for days afterwards, probably because they had the flu, so what's the point in that? I've been double-jabbed for Covid.

Cosy in Costa in Westerham...

Eventually I decided it was time to head home, but I noticed that something was wrong with Strava. It hadn't recorded my outward journey and it was all to do with something that happened yesterday when I was planning on cycling to Waitrose to do a spot of shopping. At present we don't have a car, or rather we can't use the car because there's no petrol in the tank. There's no petrol in the tank because there aren't enough HGV drivers to deliver it to the petrol stations and this, by and large, is to do with Brexit and a lack of drivers, most of whom have buggered off back to Europe where, of course, the conditions for lorry drivers are far superior than in the UK. That cunt of a Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, knew that problems were brewing back in June, but like with the pandemic, he dithered and as a result there are huge queues for petrol where most of the noise from the general public, no doubt, comes from those Brexiteers who thought the UK was something greater than the reality. We didn't get a trade deal with the USA (and rightly so). Just one look at Johnson and Biden must have thought (like most people would): 'what a fucking cunt!'. I mean, look at the man if you need evidence, he's an absolute wanker of the highest order and he and his merry bunch of arseholes (Priti Patel, Dominic Raab, Michael Gove and others) are in charge of the country. Anyway, no petrol. I know for a fact that if I attempt to drive to the gas station the car will conk out before I get there, meaning that the only option is to take a jerry can and walk to the gas station, walk back, fill up the tank and then queue for petrol like everybody else. But bearing in mind that the UK is full of ignorant nutters, the sort of people who believed that slogan on the bus that Johnson was pedalling to everybody, there will be lots of moaning and shouting when I arrive with a jerry can. First, if you're on foot, you can't very well queue in the road behind a car, so I would have to just walk past the irate drivers and, well, who wants the aggravation. My plan is to let it calm down, which will take a few days and then try and sort things out.

Chilling in Costa Coffee

Where was I? Oh yes, in Westerham drinking tea. I sat there for all of 20 to 25 minutes and just day dreamed, watching passers-by and listening to the chilled out music that Costa Coffee pipes through the place. The women behind the counter don't know the names of the artists because apparently the music is piped from some central location, presumably to all outlets, but all I can say is this: it's chilled. I kept thinking about one day cycling here with my laptop and spending time online, blogging, perhaps, eavesdropping on conversations, drinking tea and possible munching on a cookie or a cake. Talking of cakes, theoretically I could have enjoyed one today as my challenge was to keep off the cakes for the month of September and today it was Saturday 2 October. But I resisted, mainly because I didn't want to break the spell and get back to chocolate bars and cinnamon brioche buns, not to mention millionaire's shortbread. So the tea was fine and when it was finished I left the Costa and took a brief look inside a charity shop that had opened (or reopened) across the street. It was the usual scene: old clothes probably removed from the houses of dead people, odd bits of clutter and even old shoes. There was a pair of walking shoes, or trainers, my size, going for £7.50 and for a minute I seriously thought about buying them. Dead man's shoes, or not as the case may be, but then I thought, I'm not THAT desperate, surely? I'm not that desperate so I walked out empty-handed, mounted the bike and headed home. 

It rained all the way home

Because Strava hadn't recorded my outward ride, I set it to record the return journey and vowed to repeat the outward ride so that I could simply double up the distance and get the exact distance travelled. It turned out to be 12.08 miles from Westerham's Costa Coffee to my house, so that's 24.16 miles in total, not bad, certainly more than last week's mileage. It rained all the way back but it wasn't cold and if I'm honest I quite enjoyed it. The return route meant riding up the hill, turning left on to Pilgrims just past the Velobarn and then heading up the hill towards Botley, but not quite going that far. I had to turn right on to Beddlestead, sail down the length of it and then crank down the gears as Hesiers Hill approached. Hesiers isn't a problem, I rode up it without losing a breath and when I reached the top I followed Church Lane and eventually found myself at Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turned right, rode into Warlingham and then along the Limpsfield Road towards Sanderstead. Cars were still queuing for petrol as I passed the Shell garage next to Waitrose.

It was good to reach home and it was even better knowing that my original intention (of not going cycling because of the rain) had been completed reversed. Not only did I go out and ride over 24 miles, I beat my mileage from the previous week and it felt good. That said, my planned Weeble on Thursday never materialised, so last week, like the week before, I only rode out three times (Sunday, Friday and Saturday). The reason I didn't ride on Thursday was because my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet when I went to put them on. In a way I was relieved, but in other ways it was a shame as the weather was relatively okay. It rained, if I recall, around 1730hrs so there's a chance I would have been caught out, but that wasn't top of mind at the time. I just didn't go, which was annoying. Still, I redeemed myself this morning and that's good enough for me. Tomorrow it's Westerham to meet Andy and the start of yet another cycling week.

Lots of walking

One last word about other forms of exercise. I didn't ride the bike Monday through Wednesday because of work, but on Tuesday and Wednesday I did a lot of walking, on average around four miles per day. I might have said this before, but walking is far more knackering than cycling. When I come back off a ride I feel energised and ready for anything. I'll happily make the dinner and wash up, for example. But after a walk I'm dead to the world, as weary as hell and in need of a sit down, a lie down, even. Either way it's all good exercise.

Not a single ride...apart from last Sunday

Saturday morning and I was awake around 0400hrs, probably about 10 minutes earlier. I wanted to get out of bed, but I knew it would be a bad idea so I lay there and eventually fell asleep, waking at gone 0700hrs. I fell asleep again and awoke around 0800hrs, switched on LBC and then got up. To be honest, I hadn't spared a thought for the weather. I made breakfast and switched on the lap top, perused the BBC website and wasn't even thinking about cycling, even if a ride was lurking in the back of my mind. I always ride on a Saturday, it's the last day of my cycling week. But clearly not today. Still not really thinking about the weather I went upstairs and changed and then, when I found myself in the kitchen, I noticed the raindrops in the birdbath. I was just about to go and there they were, so I checked out the weather app on the iphone and sure enough it's going to rain all day, or almost, although there's a chance right now of getting out there and if I can, I will.

Lunch in a local caff yesterday...

It's been a bad week for riding the bike. I was working Monday to Wednesday, which put a ride out of the question, and the rain also stopped my riding in, so I was down to just two days, Thursday and Friday, but for some reason the momentum was lost and when I checked back to what I did last Sunday I was disheartened to note that I only rode 12.5 miles. Suddenly it dawned on me yesterday that my weekly mileage was going to be piss poor and that made it even worse. I resigned myself to not being proud of my weekly total.

What I must do is stop eating rubbish. This week: two Wispa bars, a Twirl, a chocolate mousse and an almond croissant. This is not new. Since lockdown I've been comfort eating. Big breakfasts, peanut butter, marmalade, boiled egg and fingers, bowl of Alpen and my general food intake isn't good either. Last night a cream cheese sandwich and it really has to stop. But it's harder than you think to stop eating crap, but I'm going to give it a go. Even a few minutes ago, however, I was looking forward to reaching Westerham and enjoying another cinnamon brioche bun with my English breakfast tea, and I've just remembered that during the week, after work, I sat in Redhill Costa munching a Millionaires Shortbread with my tea. It. Has. To. Stop.

So, the bike's in the garage, I'm in the house, it's raining and all there is to look forward to is England's drubbing in tomorrow's Euros. Well, alright, I want them to win and they could, of course, but it's Italy they're up against so I'm not going to get worked up about it, best to say they'll lose and then whatever happens will be alright. I was a bit suspicious about the Denmark game, purely because that second goal was a Denmark own goal, Kane missed the penalty, only scoring on the rebound, and the decision to award a penalty? Well, who knows? Everybody's going on far too much about the final. Just because England is generally rubbish in the football department, we're all thinking "it's coming home". Well, the only thing that is definitely coming home is the team. Why? Because the game takes place in Wembley so they're already home. It is probably going  to Rome, so I'm not going to get upset, but I will be watching the game.

This was good!

There's also Wimbledon finals this weekend, but as I've said before, the tennis is boring, there's no major 'rock star' players like Borg or McEnroe, everything has it's golden age and for both footy and tennis, they're over. God! I'm sounding as if I'm on a big downer, perhaps I am, it's hard to tell these days.

It's looking brighter out there and I might make a dash for it even if I know I'll get a soaking in the process. It's 1003hrs and it's make or break. I'll probably get to the top of Church Way and it'll start pouring down. What's worse, though? Staying in and resigning myself to a slobby day or getting out there and at least giving it a go? Probably the former, but I'm feeling fat and slobby as it is so I'd better get out there.

To keep dry in the rain, take the car, bus or train ...not the bike!

If you want to stay dry during rainy weather, leave the bike in the garage and use the car, the train or the bus. It's that simple. I don't think I've ever gone out in the rain, wearing supposedly 'waterproof' clothing, and come back dry. I'm talking about the ineffectiveness of cycling-specific 'waterproof' clothing. Somehow, the rain gets in and I get soaked to the bone. I suppose the acid test is whether you can reach your destination dry and not have to change clothes when you get back. Easier said than done, I'd say.

If it's raining, leave the bike in the garage...

I recently bought a traditional cycling cape off Amazon. It looked the business to be fair, transforming yours truly into a kind of high-viz caped crusader, and I was convinced it would do the job, ie, keep me dry. I remember owning a cycling cape years and years and years ago and, I can't remember how, but it somehow clipped to the bike forming a kind of tent over my legs and, by and large, kept me dry. Not this one. Although, when I mounted the bike I felt pretty confident that I would get home dry. As I set off, however, the first problem was safety. I had two choices: Keep my hands under the cape, which would mean a lot of faffing around, first to avoid the cape obstructing the lights, and second, how to grab the material of the cape in such a way as to enable normal operation of the brakes. The second choice was whether to put my arms through two apertures so they were free to hold the handlebars in the normal manner. Eventually, after stopping and starting a fair bit, I opted for the latter.

For a while I was confident that I would remain dry, but this was purely because the rain was almost non-existent. The first thing I noticed was that the cape wasn't going to protect my legs, leading me to the conclusion that a cape alone was not the answer to keeping dry. I would need to be wearing waterproof trousers. Another thing was to factor in the wind. Wind and capes are not good bedfellows. Once the wind gets inside it, well, you're finished basically. The wind blew the cape back at me exposing my legs completely so that when it really did start to rain I was wet through within 10 minutes. Add no front mudguards and the fact that the front wheel was kicking up a lot of water from puddles and, well, I was out of the game before it started.

I rode along the B269 to Botley Hill and then turned right on to The Ridge, heading towards Woldingham. When I reached the Botley Hill Farmhouse pub the proper rain had started and I resigned myself to being wet through from the waist down, and getting wetter as I progressed towards and through Woldingham. On the downward ride along Slines Oak Road I had that sense of resignation that I normally have in the rain when not wearing waterproof clothing. I was wet, basically. I had been defeated. Nothing else mattered. Bring it on. I embraced my wetness in other words. The cape hadn't done it's job and I was, I have to admit, despairing, writing a much more depressing version of this article in my head as I rode along and almost blaming Boris Johnson for my predicament.

Why didn't I think of that? An umbrella!

Well, it wasn't all bad news: my upper body had remained dry and this was when I realised that to keep totally dry I'd need to be wearing those waterproof trousers; but even then, would I really keep dry? No, I wouldn't. I went out in waterproof trousers when it wasn't raining (as an insurance policy in case it did rain) and when I got back I was wet through, with sweat! I had to change my trousers. So, my simple message to readers is this: if it's raining and you're thinking of riding the bike, don't. Not if you want to keep dry. Why? Because wearing 'waterproof' clothing will not keep you dry, you'd be better off either taking the car, the bus or the train. One thing I did think about was wearing day-to-day rainwear, like a trench coat or a hooded parker, the stuff I normally wear when I go out for walk in the rain. Not that I consciously go out for a walk in the rain. Who does? I mean, let's face it, you only go out in the rain if you have to. Fine, you might be caught out in the rain, hence that well-worn mummy phrase, "take your coat, it might rain", but if it's raining BEFORE you got out, what do you do? Ask mum for a lift to the station, or whatever. You certainly wouldn't take a walk for the hell of it.

The cape would be good for walking in the rain, but on a bike, unless accompanied by waterproof trousers, you're on a loser and even with them you'd likely still get back and have to change. Personally, I'd love to know if there is such a thing as truly waterproof cycling wear, somehow I don't think there's any such thing.

Postscript, Saturday 19th December 2020...

I was praying for more rain today as I wanted to test the cape and waterproof trousers combo, but alas, initially just a mild spitting when I set off on the Slines Oak Sloth, a 16-mile ride that, like yesterday, takes me on the 269, along The Ridge and then past the golf course into Woldingham and home via the length of Slines Oak Road. It brings my total mileage this week to just over 50 miles.

There was rain but not as much as yesterday, but guess what? Yes, when I reached home I was soaked through and had to change all my clothes. My trousers (the ones underneath the waterproof trousers) were wet through, even the fleece I was wearing under the cape was wet through, my socks were soaked and my supposedly waterproof Peter Storm walking shoes are also soaked and will take a few days to dry off.

I was kind of hoping that wearing the cape/waterproof trousers combo would improve things, but no, the result and the message of this article remains the same: there is no such thing as waterproof cycling wear, you might escape with being less wet than you might have been had you not been wearing your protective clothing, but you will still be wet and that's in mild rain. Should you experience a major downpour then in my opinion you're better off stripping naked and riding home; that way all you'll need to do when you get home is dry yourself off.

Photos courtesy of Pixabay.