Chilling over Christmas...

 On Wednesday last week - the Wednesday before Christmas - I went down with a cold and cough. I remember feeling a little shivery on my way home from work and (fortunately) I was staying in what I call the Capsule (see previous post). Feeling unwell often messed with my sleep and anybody sleeping with me so I figured it best to be in the capsule until the illness was over.I think I timed things correctly (or I almost did). My cold was a little debilitating. I felt weary and I was coughing and sneezing and later blowing my nose too (a typical bad one if you ask me).

My first line of defence is always Lemsip and I'm glad to report that we had two boxes in the cabinet. All I had to remember was to stick with just four sachets in a 24-hour period. Not too challenging.

Andy outside Sheree's, we'll meet there on Sunday I hope...

I was in work on Thursday, feeling, it has to be said, a little down-in-the-dumps. There were a few people in and everybody was winding down. I managed to get done what I'd planned to get done, finishing an article that needed to be written. I felt good about that and left the office late knowing that it was all over for the Christmas break. I was feeling bad enough to ask for a lift from Purley Oaks and I was in no fit state to do the 2-mile walk from Purley station to Sanderstead that I'd been doing over the past fortnight. I got a lift from Purley Oaks and then embarked upon chilling out and trying to get better in time for Christmas. In all honesty, whatever I had made me feel down, very down and I felt as if I couldn't cope with the world. I certainly wasn't looking forward to any kind of interaction with other people. I did virtually nothing. In fact, sitting here now I'm trying to remember but can't. What did I do? I think we went out on Saturday, or was it Sunday, but I remember being in Sutton, in Starbucks and in M&S. My daughter had a haircut booked so we were simply killing time until she was finished and then we drove back home.

I've never enjoyed the commercialism of Christmas. In fact, I hate it. The greed, the pushing and shoving, those awful Christmas ads on the television and the fact that all we were doing was filling the boots of another Tory, another awful businessman. The family bit is all fine, that's what it's all about and, by and large, my Christmases (our Christmases) are family oriented. We have a big family get-together on the 'big day' round at Natalie's mum's and Boxing Day we tend to go to a pub for lunch and throw in a shortish walk, this time around Shere, the Surrey village where they filmed The Holiday. We found a great pub, The Bray, and I had what was arguably the best steak pie, mash and gravy in the world, all very filling, all very nutritious too. In the evening we played Trivial Pursuit, and I was fine but tired out, probably because I was still a little under the weather. 

Triggers by Glen Matlock is brilliant...

Today, the day after boxing day (it's amazing how quickly Christmas is diluted by the passing of time) I went over with the family to Sutton to see mum. We bought M&S sandwiches from a nearby BP garage and made small talk with mum and my brother who drove up from Petworth. We drove home and now we're chilling again, watching Tom Cruise in War of the Worlds. It's great chilling out as I never seem to relax and soon, within a few days in fact, well, after the New Year, the job starts again and it's a busy month of travelling, one trip I have to do and others I can take or leave (although I'll probably do one of them). But the last thing I want to do now is think about work. 

I haven't been in a fit state to ride the bike. The plan had been to go out on Boxing Day but there was no way I was fit enough. Hopefully by the weekend I'll be back in the land of the living. I'm hoping for a ride next Saturday and then on Sunday I'll go see Andy at Sheree's in Tatsfield.

I'm reading a great book. Triggers by Glen Matlock, a former Sex Pistol, although you could always say that once a Sex Pistol always a Sex Pistol. It's a great read for so many reasons, one being that his early years were very similar to mine, there are things he talks about that I remember too, like Sunday roast on Sunday and then cold meat on Monday (normally, in my case, served with tinned spaghetti and mashed potatoes). Then he worked in a department store. I did too. I was known as a 'mobile porter', somebody who could do any job in any department. My best job was operating the lifts. I knew how to get them stuck so I could spend time alone between the floors reading until the electrician winched the lift to the next floor. I also worked in 'small electrical' fitting plugs on to kettles and had a stint in the heavy electrical department shifting fridge freezers from the warehouse to the lorries. A great job it has to be said and here I am decades later, still working, still earning, although the job is a little more sophisticated and in line with what I'm capable of doing.

The best steak pie, The Bray, Shere, Surrey

It's now just turned 1900hrs and I'll stop writing for now. Alright, I'll continue. Somebody asked me the other day if I was still writing my blog. I am, I told them, but I'd slowed down somewhat, which is annoying. I used to write about every ride I took, but now I kind of amalgamate a number of rides into one post, but if I'm travelling, I always write up what happens each day I'm out of the country. It's my way of remembering what I did and when I did it, photographs thrown in for good measure.

Tomorrow we will be out and about visiting people and I'm really looking forward to it; there's a guy called Julian, I haven't seen him since this time last year and I'm looking forward to meeting him again. Perhaps this time we'll exchange numbers and try to meet up again some time in the new year.

Anyway, time to sign off and watch some television. At least I'm chilling, that's the main thing. I don't do enough of this, and I need to do more.

Bus stop and churchyard – and brilliant weather on both days

St. Mary's Tatsfield, Sunday morning

We didn't cycle far this weekend, but the weather was good on both days as we rode first to the bus stop (on Saturday) and then to the churchyard (in double quick time) on Sunday. It took us about 25 minutes to reach the churchyard from Warlingham Green, which was pretty good going. Andy had said something like 'heads down until the churchyard?' and that was it; we kept up a fairly good pace all the way and stuck close together.

The churchyard was very peaceful, apart from the hiss of the motorway about a mile away. The skies were blue, it was warm – a much better day than I had expected – and we sat on our bench and chilled, munching BelVita biscuits, sipping tea and talking about nothing in particular. There was nobody else about, we didn't even see the usual church people who turn up and potter about.

When it was time to leave the churchyard, I knew I had to get a decent shot for the blog, but I didn't want the usual stuff so I wandered over to the church itself and took the images that accompany this post.

The ride home was very pleasant. It was warm, the skies were blue and the sun was out. We rode up Clarks Lane, travelling west towards Botley Hill and then headed north on the 269 towards Warlingham. Andy branched off halfway and said he wouldn't be riding next Saturday (cue an urban ride to mum's perhaps). He'd see me again on Sunday. We'd talked about the lake, we'd talked about a later ride and a beer in the pub – and one day we'd do it, but probably not next week.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before on this blog, but I've been reading Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. It's a good book, but it's a big one (1,168 pages to be precise) and it's taken me around eight months to finish it, but I can now report (as I shrug a sigh of relief!) that it's finished and I'm now enjoying Long Way Down by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman, which is absolutely brilliant. Mind you, I enjoyed the challenge presented by Rand's masterpiece and will be looking for similar literary obstacle courses over the next few weeks.

Looking south to Oxted from the Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday morning

When I reached home after the ride I put the bike in the garage and then set about mowing the front and back lawns. After that it was time for an excellent home-made tomato and basil soup and then a drive to Shere, a cake and a cup of tea and then a wonderful walk in the surrounding countryside. I sat in the garden on my return, the lawn a velvety texture and the skies still blue, but wasps disturbed the peace as I sat and read Long Way Down, accompanied by a bottle-conditioned ale. Wonderful. It's now just gone 7pm and the skies are still blue and the temperature warm. Countryfile is starting and it's time for dinner – salmon. After dinner I might sit outside again as I think the wasps have gone.

Until next week, enjoy your lives everybody.

Botley Hill and the Tatsfield Churchyard...and great weather

As June arrives and so, it seems, does the good weather. It was a week of rain and overcast skies, but good weather had been promised for the weekend and while Saturday was a little suspect – grey skies and mildly chilly – Sunday was what old people would call 'glorious'.

An interesting cloud formation taken from Botley Hill. (Andy's pic).

We're still getting up early and meeting on the green at 0700hrs instead of 0730hrs, which makes things less stressful in terms of time, and early starts are helped by the fact that it's light at around 4am and the birds act like an alarm clock.

My rear tyre has been playing up. Last week I had three punctures (see previous post) and this week I noticed a slight wobble – I think the wheel is buckled. Add to that a non-existent back brake and tyres that are so thin and frayed round the edges that it feels as if, any minute, they might explode, and I think you'd be right in thinking that a trip to the bike shop was needed.

Despite aborting, Phil (our new accomplice) changed his mind about not going and was outside when I left the house at 0630hrs. He'd been out until the early hours and didn't start feeling weary until we reached Botley – but at least he got out in the air and had a ride.

We stopped at the Botley pub and chatted about motorcycles and pushbikes and then rode home. Saturdays are short because of commitments back home, but Sunday normally means a longer ride and while Westerham was on the cards, as I cycled up towards the green alone – Phil aborted – I thought the Tatsfield churchyard would be just perfect in the early morning sunshine. There wasn't a cloud in the sky – virtually – and when I reached the green, Andy called. Did I get his text? Being as my phone these days is either off or on silent, I didn't know, but yes, I did get it. Andy had overslept and said he'd meet me at Westerham. "Let's make it the Tatsfield Churchyard," I said and then set off alone.

I was right. The churchyard was tranquillity itself. There was somebody there tending to one of the graves, but other than that it was just me. I trudged up the small incline, across grass still damp with dew. There were birds tweeting in the trees and I could see for miles, right across to the rusting old gasometer in Oxted and beyond.

An almost cloudless sky taken from Tatsfield Churchyard (by Andy).

Andy joined me around 10-15 minutes later and I broke out the tea. We sat and chatted about how, if we had a lot of money we'd add stuff to our mansions, like ghost trains and the sort of gadgets you only find on Thunderbirds, like a secret tunnel leading from our bedrooms to the garage where our bikes would await us.

The churchyard proved a sublime place to be and we both agreed that we could have spent the entire day there if we had a radio, the newspapers and, perhaps, some more tea. The weather made it one of those days when we could simply ride all day and end up God knows where. Memories of Mike Carter's One Man & His Bike drifted back and, indeed, Alan Sillitoe's Down from the Hill and I brought up David Byrne's Bicycle Diaries, which I've been reading. It's fine, but I wish it was more about cycling than art and galleries and stuff. It's a touch 'artsy fartsy' but I'm planning to persevere with it. I remember when I bought it, back in 2011. I think it was for sale on Sanderstead railway station and cost me about 50p. Mine is the Faber hardback edition and it always brings back memories of that terrible year, dad passing away, the web design course, no work and, of course, that awful job that lasted just one month over in Dickensian Rochester in Kent. Still, best not to harp on the bad times.

After taking a few snaps, we wheeled the bikes out of the churchyard, down the rickety wooden steps and on to Clarks Lane. We headed towards Botley Hill and then parted halfway along the 269. I was home early, well before 10am, and helped myself to a large breakfast of two boiled eggs, fingers, bread and strawberry jam, tea and Weetabix (with cold milk and sugar). It set me up for the day.

Later we went to Shere for a drive and paid a visit to the newly renamed Dabbling Duck (previously the Lucky Duck) where, we discovered they took cards. I had a homemade Millionaire's shortbread and a pot of tea. After a wander around this quaint village, we headed home and had roasted chicken, salad and potatoes for dinner.

Now, as I write this, it's just before 7am on Monday 3rd June, a work day. Outside it's another wonderful day and I wish I had the day off to enjoy it.