Snow creeps up on us...and kind of ruins things

On New Year's Day I went for a long walk around Knole, a National Trust property. It was great and much needed. We drove there, it's around 30-40 minutes and it's all pretty straightforward. Then, when I awoke the following morning and peered out of the window on 2 January 2026, my world had been transformed into a winter wonderland of the worst possible kind. I'm talking about snow. It was everywhere and while it was little more than a light dusting, it was enough to cause problems underfoot and on the roads. The worst thing being it was going nowhere. The temperatures were not warm enough to thaw the snow so it simply loitered with intent and now, on Sunday 4 January 2026, it's still there and the forecasts suggest it will be hanging around for a few more days, certainly the rest of this week. Normally, we get two helpings and if that happens this week then you can bet your arse we'll have snow for the next fortnight, which means little in the way of cycling or driving or walking.

Two days of staying indoors

Andy and I were going to meet in Costa Coffee in Purley, which would have meant an 80-minute round trip on foot, but when I awoke at 0550hrs this morning I started to think no, it would be treacherous in the extreme and, therefore, not worth doing. I might have been wrong, but over here (perhaps not where Andy is) there's a lot of snow and ice on roads and paths. I can't get my car on to the drive so it's sitting outside the house like a guest, not a resident. But that's not the problem. The issue is really the fact that snow is bedding in, making itself comfortable and is, quite literally, an unwelcomed guest. In some respects, it's great; it means I can sit and read Uncommon Danger by Eric Ambler or, as now, write something on the blog. I guess the phrase 'it is what it is' springs to mind and if so there's no point in worrying about it, but in truth I was planning a ride to Esquires Coffee in Westerham, I really fancied the ride and, of course, the large cup of tea, the whole idea of just chilling for a bit before the ride back. But no, it's not to be and I won't make a fuss about it.

Outside now the sun is shining and the skies are blue, but the ground is brilliant white. I've resigned myself to doing nothing although I'm strongly considering 'testing the water' so to speak, ie taking a walk to see just how bad it is. The last thing I want is to go 'arse over tit' to use a well-worn phrase, but it's highly likely. I don't know what it is around here, but whenever it snows we do tend to get a fair bit of it compared to, say, Sutton, where mum resides. Perhaps it's because we're fairly high up. I did drive the car the day before yesterday, very slowly until we reached the main road and then I managed to get to the supermarket. I'm sure that's the way things still are, hence my tentative plan to get out there and test things out. I've had breakfast and I'm considering another cup of tea and a short read. I know there's some shortbread biscuits around somewhere but I can't be bothered to go in search of them, not yet at any rate. This is dressing gown weather and I quite enjoy it. Tomorrow, it's work, and that means getting up early, something I haven't done for a while. I'm not looking forward to it, put it that way.

I stayed in all day and did absolutely nothing. There is snow all over the place, not driving or walking weather. While there was some mid-afternoon sunshine that seemed to be thawing the snow, it's still there. Right now, it's dark, in fact it's 1800hrs, dinner is being made and I'm sitting here writing. I'm rambling so I'll shut up and try to enjoy the last few hours of my Christmas holidays.

Shorter rides boost the weekly mileage...

Snow is about to fall, or so say the weather people on the radio and Andy prempted the whole thing by texting me yesterday, or it might have been Friday, to kind of abort the ride. Initially I said let's wait and see what happens, but it was cold out there yesterday and the thought of leaving the house at 0800hrs wearing the balaclava and heading for Tatsfield Village suddenly no longer appealed. We both agreed to do our local rides, which is what I've been doing all week, short bursts of around five or six miles and it soon adds up. I was doing variations of the Norfolk Nobbler this week, starting with a ride of just over five miles, then another of just under six miles and on it went. I missed one day (I think it was Wednesday) but then I rode for just over 10 miles on Friday evening (resorting to using my lights as it got dark approaching 1700hrs). And then yesterday I went for it and rode what I called The Super Nobbler, a ride of over 13 miles. 

You might think these local rides are a bit of cop-out, a bit 'namby', but they're not. The Norfolk Nobbler has many hilly sections that get the heart racing and the worst of the lot, believe it or not, is coming up West Hill from the north, as opposed to the steeper but shorter 'south face'. In fact, the hills are pretty bad in places, not mind numbingly so, like Titsey or White Lane, but they keep me on my toes, so to speak. Norfolk Avenue is a case in point. 

Ready for a 13-miler Nobbler...

In fact, I am 'a local legend' on Norfolk Avenue, according to Strava. Basically the hill never stops until it stops and by that I mean that the climb continues right up to the moment when it doesn't, there's no levelling off, no 'ledges', not until you find yourself on a downhill stretch, and this is both ways. When I've turned right out of Ridge Langley and then left on to Arundel Avenue, I cycle down towards the right turn-off for Norfolk Avenue, which bears right and is then a hill from the very beginning until the moment that it isn't a hill, if that makes sense. I'm a foot away from the summit and still climbing and then a foot more and it's downhill as I freewheel down towards Church Way. Coming back in the other direction, it's a hill all the way to the top and I'm still climbing as I make the left turn and then hit the downhill ride the other way. 

On yesterday's 13-miler I rode three laps, but encroached upon Sanderstead Hill and on the third lap I rode down the Upper Selsdon Road and then turned left on to Arundel Avenue,  finding myself back in what I like to call 'the world', meaning the secret world of winding suburban streets, hidden from view, that duck and dive on the Nobbler rides. 

The great news is that my mileage is creeping up again. Last week was absolutely piss poor, but this week I managed to creep over the 50-mile marker with something like 64 miles, probably a bit more, but I don't think I reached 65. It all goes to prove that if you chip away at the miles doing little rides day-by-day, the distances soon add up and then, if you throw in a bigger ride at the weekend, before your week is out, you can really get things moving. It's going to be a bit of a challenge this coming week, which starts today (Sunday) but only if I don't go out today) and, as I write this at 1022hrs I've looked out of the window to see snow falling steadily. If this continues and it starts to lay, well, it might bugger up the whole week, but let's see. Andy was certainly right about not going out today, he must have a sixth sense. Had we done so we'd be out there now, our faces aching with the cold and who knows, a puncture would have made it a whole lot worse. So, it's fingers crossed this week and let's hope the snow is 'just visiting' and not hanging around for the week. That said, I have a theory about snow at this time of year: basically, you might think you're getting a light dusting and that's all, but you can guarantee it'll back; so if, say, like now, it snows today, on Sunday, and it lays, but in the morning is largely gone, well, don't think you've got away with it. You can virtually guarantee that a heavier snowfall is on the way. 

Lastly, and talking about cycling clothing, not that we were talking about cycling clothing, on yesterday's 13-miler I decided to wear my Parka on the ride. It's not a real Parka, but a green hooded affair that is really my day-to-day coat in the colder weather. I put it on for the ride along with the green balaclava and an orange beanie hat and you know what? It didn't hinder movement, it kept me warm and you can bet I'll be wearing it again as the cold weather continues.

I'm more than happy with my 64 miles this week.

More snow means no cycling...

The roads were covered in snow this morning, always a bad sign, but Andy and I had already aborted today's ride. Yesterday was characterised by watching videos of The Fall performing Theme for Sparta FC and interviews with people like Stewart Lee (about The Fall). I ended up watching This is Your Life: John Peel, on which Mark E Smith made an appearance, not live in the studio (he was in Manchester performing). Alright, I'll admit it, I'm kind of obsessed with The Fall, but that's only because they were so good. Like a lot of bands, however, I was never 'in to them' at the time, although that's a weird thing to say as The Fall, unlike, say, The Smiths, have been around for the past 40 years. I did buy Levitate, a great album, especially the track I'm a Mummy.

But enough of The Fall, although it looks as if I'll be crawling around the internet later on the look-out for any interviews I haven't read before (a task and a half if you ask me).

Our curtains are still drawn, Andrew Marr's on the television, everybody's talking about the Russians and we're all experiencing Russian weather.

There's not much else to say, there never is when there's not much else to do other than watch TV, read the newspapers and generally chill out.

No sign of Andy...and snow is on the agenda

... and I suspect a spot of jet lag. Or rather I hope so because I'm sitting here in front of the lap top at 0745hrs having sent him a couple of texts to ascertain whether or not he's riding today and there's been no reply. He could be at the green, waiting for me in the cold, although somehow I don't think he is; I think he's in bed. Not that it matters. Outside it looks very cold. Not wet but cold, and there's a dusting of ice here and there. My iphone says its 1 degree Centigrade and there's a snowflake sign, which doesn't bode well. It's definitely not nice out there and I'm assuming that Andy, who's been used to some fine weather over in Jamaica these past few days has simply looked at his alarm clock and gone back to bed.

UK weather courtesy of the Daily Mirror

The worst case scenario, of course, is that his iphone has packed up or is out of power and he's getting ever more peeved as the seconds tick by and I'm not there. At this moment he could be riding back home wishing he'd not got out of bed. Let's hope not.

There has, however, been a marked lack of cycling these past three weeks. Last week I was still feeling the remnants of a nasty cold; the weekend before I was suffering from the cold and with Andy out of the country there was little in the way of motivation, although I know now that I would have aborted. Today, therefore, is the first day that we could have gone riding, although I'll admit now that I wasn't really in the mood. That's the trouble with not going cycling, it sets the tone and I find I get used to not going out, not pulling on the balaclava to fight off the cold. In many ways I'm glad Andy hasn't replied because it means I can stay in the warm and not venture outside.

My iphone now says that it's minus 1 degree centigrade outside and that snow is definitely on the cards. It snowed briefly yesterday afternoon in Redhill so I wouldn't be at all surprised. Looking ahead to the rest of the day there's snow, rain and cloudy weather ahead, the sort of conditions when it's best not to hit the air but remain indoors drinking tea. Things will warm up a little tomorrow when it's supposed to be 4 degrees Centigrade and cloudy (reasonably good weather for a ride).

We know what it's like to ride in the snow. While at first it's a novelty, it's a real case of giggles to grimaces when our faces freeze up and then we get a puncture. Our hands are so cold it makes fixing it almost impossible. In fact I remember a time when Andy was so cold that he lost his rag and rather than fix a puncture he almost slung his bike (the old Peugeot) into a ditch. In the end he settled for walking home accompanied by his bike. I remember how I found it mildly amusing until I discovered that I had a puncture too. If I recall, we both walked home, listening to that annoying sound a deflated tyre makes.

It's 0804hrs and there's no reply from Andy. All is still in the house and outside it's pretty quiet too.

In the news it's far from quiet, but it's still pretty much the same old shit. Trump has been trumped by US lawmakers and can't proceed with his planned immigration ban, there's a big crisis here in the UK with our National Health Service, there's a crisis in housing, we have a weak pound, thanks to Brexit, and, of course, there's Brexit, which is still the topic of the day in British politics.

And getting back to reality, it is snowing now, just a fine, drizzly snow that's likely to turn to rain, but had we gone out (and I'm still assuming Andy didn't) then we would have been wet and cold and not happy. Things should improve tomorrow.

Waving goodbye to mild weather...

The view from the house Sunday morning

I aborted Saturday's ride out of general tiredness and the need for a lie-in, but I thought all would be well on Sunday. However, last night I received a text from Phil pointing out that it had started snowing and that he was aborting. I peered out of the window and sure enough there was snow on the ground. I sent an abort text to Andy and now, as I sit in the living room at 0923hrs on Sunday morning – having enjoyed breakfast (Weetabix, tea and toast) I'm wondering what the hell I'm going to do today other than 'stay in'. There's nothing worse than 'staying in', but in this weather there's little else to do, mainly because driving becomes ultra-hazardous and the only alternative is to put on the walking boots and heavy coat and tread nervously on the snow in fear that one might go 'arse over tit'.

Hopefully, things will warm up, the snow will melt and all will be well with the world. That said, whenever it's snowed in the past, it always snows again, normally the following day or overnight, making matters worse for everyone. As for public transport, the train operating companies will be completely at sixes and sevens and it will take an age to get into work in the morning. It's going to be a fun week.

Weather update, 1056hrs: It's warm outside, not cold, and there's every indication that the snow is thawing. Unless it gets dramatically colder later on, I bet it will all be gone in the morning.

Cycling update, 1102hrs: Earlier, when I went outside to attend to a garbage issue, I took the opportunity of entering the garage to check out the puncture I'd fixed last night. I was curious as to whether it would be flat, rendering last night's 'abort' null and void as, ironically, I wouldn't have gone out anyway. However, when I touched the rear tyre it was still as solid as a rock. Not going cycling, of course, is typical of this time of year, but here's hoping we'll be riding next weekend.

Postscript at 1452hrs: As for 'waving goodbye to mild weather', it's pretty mild out there now and the snow has virtually disappeared. I'm even wondering how cold it was this morning when we should have out there riding the bikes (probably not that cold at all). Still, we didn't go out and there's no point getting uptight about it.

Final word 1838hrs: Having taken a drive to Westerham and then a brief stroll around the main street, I thought I'd report that it's cold, and getting colder. It's not as mild as I described it in my earlier postscript.

Seriously cold weather as we battle snow and heavy winds to and from the Tatsfield Bus Stop

There was about 25 minutes in it. Twenty five minutes between getting soaked through and almost frozen to death or staying indoors and enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Had Andy and I agreed to meet at 0800hrs instead of the usual 0730hrs things would have been different, certainly drier, but only if we hadn't gone out. In the end – in fact, shortly after leaving the house – the snow started.

I pedalled up Church Way as the snow began to fall and it never really stopped until I returned home. When I reached the top of the hill the snow eased off, but only temporarily. By the time I reached Waitrose it was snowing again, it might have become rain or sleet, but then, once I reached the green, it was full-on snow again.

Bleak at the bus stop...

Andy was cycling towards the green at roughly the same time as yours truly, and when we spotted one another we kept on cycling, agreeing while in motion to head for the Tatsfield Bus Stop. It was the only sensible place, being as it offered shelter from the snow and a dry bench on which to sit. I didn't seem to have the usual wet arse, which goes with the territory when you don't have mudguards, but that's because there was more snow than rain. That said, on the approach to the bus stop the roads were wetter and soon my arse was wet too.

As we rode south along the Limpsfield Road towards Botley Hill, however, the snow didn't seem that bad. As usual with snow, it seems fine early on, almost enjoyable, but then it turns and things get nasty. For Andy and I the nastiness started when we made the left turn into Clarks Lane and found ourselves heading east towards Westerham. At this point the snow was blowing horizontally across the road and hitting us sideways on. Very, very unpleasant. We were both relieved to reach the bus stop.

It was truly awful weather and I think we were both wondering what the hell made us want to ride out in it. Yes, it would mean a 'respect is due' for both of us, but why? What was the point? There was no point.

We looked out from the shelter offered by the bus stop, our view slightly impeded by a sign advertising an arts and craft fair in Tatsfield Village, but the view was bleak: snow flurries travelling horizontally from north to south and showing no sign of abating. There was little else to do other than pack away our 'stuff' – flask, cups, milk – and then simply ride home, enduring the pain of the journey, which was going to be rough.

The ride to Botley Hill was unpleasant and I stopped after a few yards to cover my face with a scarf; not a brilliant idea as eventually the moisture generated by the heat of my breath dampened the cloth, which eventually cooled, becoming more unpleasant than comforting. When we made the right turn on to the 269 and headed north towards Botley Hill Andy suggested we rode along the off-road tracks for the sake of safety, but there was always punctures to worry about. It would have been the last thing we needed. Fortunately, all was well, although I can't guarantee that Andy's journey remained puncture-free as we parted company halfway along a windswept road.

I stayed on the roadside track until I reached the roundabout adjacent to Warlingham Sainsbury's and then, soaked through, I hit the road and continued the journey home. While there had been snow in the burbs, it had now turned to driving rain with rivers running along the gutters. Oh how I wished my bike had been fitted with mudguards, but if the truth be known I was already soaked through so in many ways it was academic, but it didn't feel good. My feet and hands were frozen and I knew that when I reached home I would have to stand under a warm shower for many minutes. All I wanted was for the journey to end and eventually it did. I rode through Sanderstead High Street on the path and then crossed to the Gruffy and Sanderstead Pond, into the churchyard and down Church Way. Church Way became Arkwright Road and I turned left into Morley, right on to Elmfield Way and then left into Southcote, hanging an immediate right into Ellenbridge and another right on to Barnfield.

Normally, we see plenty of cyclists, but today we were the only idiots mad enough to venture outside. There was something pleasing about that.

Having peeled off my clothing I stood under the shower and thawed out. My legs and feet were red raw with the cold and numb too, but after drying and putting on warm clothes, drinking a mug of hot tea and chilling, I felt the life begin to seep back into me. It was really good to be home.

The day remained cold and blustery and I'm wondering what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps an abort text, but not if things warm up, we'll have to wait and see.

Sunday morning
In all honesty I wasn't keen on an early start in the cold so I sent Andy a text and discovered that he felt the same way. For the first time in God knows how long, I remained in bed beyond 0600hrs and then I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, but when I looked out of the window, while a frost still lay on the ground and it was clearly a cold, crisp morning, the sun was out, the skies were blue and I started to wish I hadn't wimped out. But I had, and I'd have to live with it.

Twats of the Antarctic...what were we thinking?

People sleepwalk through life; I know I do. Take Saturday morning, for instance. I woke up around 0600hrs, got out of bed, went downstairs, made myself a mug of tea, put an egg on the boil, made up some fingers, boiled some milk for a couple of Shredded Wheat and then sat down and watched BBC Breakfast while enjoying my very early breakfast. Outside it was dark. Not that I knew this for an absolute fact as the curtains were drawn and, as the clock edged its way towards my departure time (0700hrs) I'm sure it was getting brighter out there, but other than the darkness I saw through the kitchen window earlier, I wasn't sure what was happening outside. For all I knew it could be raining and that's a real downer for cycling. Nothing worse than getting wet through. But Andy hadn't sent any text messages warning me of the weather...or had he? Hold on a minute, what's all this? I'd picked up the iphone and spotted a couple of texts just as I was walking into the conservatory (now fully dressed and ready for the ride) and then I saw it: snow, lots of it, and it was hanging around too. The grass was getting progressively whiter as the iphone began to ring. Well, vibrate, as it was on 'silent'. It was Andy.

Twats of the Antarctic –my cycling outfit does me no favours whatsoever

"I can't believe this," I said. "It's snowing. I think we'll have to abort."
"Really? Are you sure? I say we go for it, head for The Ridge..."
"Well, we could, I guess. Let's aim for reaching the green and take things from there."

So off I went without any waterproof trousers or top, just me in my Tesco ASBO specials and the M&S hooded top, my rust-coloured old jacket, a baggy old jumper and, of course, the 'New York' beany hat – my Peter Storm flappy hat, incidentally, was absent-mindedly left on a train earlier in the week.

The bikes on their own. Note the snow... everywhere! Pic by Andy Smith

Outside, while I noted that the weather was oddly rather mild – certainly not balaclava weather, although I hadn't left that on a train – I also noted that the snow was relentless: laying on front lawns, covering parked cars and dissolving on my lips like chilled Disprin. But I ploughed on: along Ellenbridge, up Elmfield, up Church Way, along the Limpsfield Road to the green where I found Andy who, like me, was covered in snow. What were we thinking? The last time we experienced weather like this was April 2008 – something I always bring up whenever the subject of snow raises its head. "Well, we've had snow in April before, you know," I will remark smugly, and the response is often, "Really? That's late!"

The off-road bit I despise so much!

We stood there on the green wondering what to do when what we should have done (apart from turn around and go home) was head for somewhere offering a bit of cover, ie the Tatsfield bloody bus stop or the village, but for some reason we opted for a couple of exposed benches in a car park far, far away, on The Ridge, a stone's throw from Al Fayed's gaff. This meant riding down Slines Oak Road and along a lengthy stretch of off-road track that I absolutely abhor. It's part of our route to Godstone, a place we rarely visit because of the punishing hill on the return ride, but off we went nonetheless, the snow raining down upon us. It wasn't long before I was wet through and dreaming of having mudguards, but no, I didn't have any mudguards and I wasn't wearing any protective clothing. And while I wasn't cold as such, I was getting increasingly uncomfortable and there was to be no salvation, no nice, warm bus stop to shelter from the snow, and even if there had been a covered bus stop, sitting down would have been unpleasant. As unpleasant as, say, having a bath and then getting dressed or, worse still, getting back into bed, without drying myself. As unpleasant as being in a crowded train with a few sausages under the grill or eating an unexpectedly soft pickled onion.

View to the right of the bike along the off-road stretch

When we reached our destination there was no cover. There were no leaves on the trees and all we could do was stand under the bare branches of some shrub or other trying to pretend everything was alright, the sun was shining and we had a nice cup of tea and some BelVita biscuits to eat. We DID have a nice cup of tea and we DID have the biscuits, but it wasn't in the slightest bit pleasant and, after taking the shots that accompany this post, we mounted our trusty steeds and headed along a short stretch of off-road track (not the one pictured) before rejoining The Ridge and heading for Botley Hill and the return ride along the exposed 269 towards Warlingham Green. By this stage, of course, as any seasoned cyclist will tell you, we'd resigned ourselves to being wet and uncomfortable. I think I was more uncomfortable than Andy as his bike has a sensible pair of mudguards and, give or take, Andy was 'nice and comfy' – he certainly didn't have a cold, wet behind like I did.

View to the left of the bike along the off-road stretch I dislike

The roads were largely clear of snow and, as we headed home everything was getting wetter and wetter. There was still snow on the grass verges and in front gardens along the route, but it was thawing and within 30-40 minutes people would look puzzled if I suggested that there was thick snow everywhere only half an hour ago.

Andy and I parted at the green, vowing to meet up again on Sunday, weather permitting. I rode home and saw a sensibly dressed, clean, tidy and (more to the point) dry Phil about to drive off to Southampton with his daughter. I felt decidedly under-dressed in my wet-through Tesco ASBO specials, my face speckled with mud and, let's make no bones about it, I looked a complete mess.

A discarded Coke can heightened our sense of desolation

"Respect is due," I said, explaining how it really wasn't that cold, but who was I kidding? After bidding farewell to Phil I waddled off, locked the bike in the garage and then peeled off my wet clothes, chucked them all in the washing machine and made myself a cup of tea. Now don't get me wrong. I didn't just strip off and stand in the kitchen with no clothes on, making myself tea; I dried off first, put on some clean and dry clothes and then headed for the kitchen.

Bare trees meant little in the way of shelter

Later in the day I noticed that I was developing a sore throat and all because I hadn't really looked after myself. I was Twat of the Antarctic and if I caught a chill it was nobody's fault but mine.

Shortly after leaving the house the snow began to fall...

Sunday – to the Tatsfield Bus Stop
On Sunday we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop – where we should have headed yesterday. Mum had given me a couple of slices of Christmas cake so we enjoyed tea, cake and BelVita biscuits. Andy had a puncture close to where he lives and was sorely tempted to abort, but we agreed to meet at the Tatsfield  bus stop as I didn't fancy standing around in the cold. I pedalled off from the green alone, but while the snow had gone, it was much colder than yesterday. I had the beany hat and balaclava combo on my head today, a scarf, the aforementioned rusty old jacket, a pair of trousers covered in white paint and an uncomfortable pair of gloves that were still wet from yesterday's lunacy.

On the way back we saw what looked like a nasty car accident. An ambulance and police car were in attendance and there was a small car – something like a Renault Clio or a Corsa, or even a Toyota Aygo – upturned in a field and some way from the road. How? That was the question we kept asking ourselves as we cycled past. It must have happened after 0800hrs, although Andy reached the bus stop from along The Ridge, not the 269, so he wouldn't have seen anything. We were guessing but the car must have been travelling very fast, lost control, mounted the verge, smashed right through the Hawthorn bushes and turned itself over. There were other cars parked up on the verge so I'm guessing they were involved or purely witnesses.

How seriously hurt those involved in the accident might have been we didn't dare to guess, but when we reached the junction at Beech Road the ambulance passed us slowly and without its sirens blazing – it could have meant that all was fine and that there was no need to rush or that there was no point in hurrying back as those inside were dead.

Two years ago...

What's a bit of rain and wind? Remember this ride from two years ago? Click here.

Blizzard conditions...and final thoughts about Mike Carter's book

You might not be able to see the snow, but it's there, believe me.

I went to bed early and woke up early as a result. It was gone 5am and for a while I sat and listened to the shipping forecast, something I haven't done for a while. It went on for much longer than I remember when dad used to listen to it back at home, but there's something cosy about it.

When I gazed out of the window there was snow, fine snow, but now, at 0655hrs, it's coming down quite heavily. I aborted the ride early as I just knew it was settling in for the day. Let's hope tomorrow's a better day for a ride as I need to get out there. In fact, because I was up early I was going to head out early, ie around 7am, but the weather had other plans.

Yesterday I finished Mike Carter's One Man & His Bike and I can honestly say it was the only book that I've truly not wanted to finish – and by that I mean I wanted it to go on forever. But, as they say, all good things come to an end and I can only cheer myself up with the fact that he's written another travel book, Uneasy Rider, which I intend to buy immediately.

As readers of this blog will already know, I've posted about One Man & His Bike before and I really must recommend it to anybody who likes the idea, believes in the idea, of the strong relationship between the bicycle and freedom of mind and, of course, freedom of spirit. I know that I can really think about stuff when I'm out on the bike, riding towards the green or through some country lane, it's a time to sort things out in my head.

So, I've finished it. One of the best later chapters (it's all good) is Chapter 20 when he meets a ferryman who, it transpires, is more than just a ferryman – although that 'just' is not right. Mike meets a man who pedalled to Hawaii and, indeed, almost everywhere else in the world. His name was Stevie and, I guess the best way to describe people like Stevie – whose book I will definitely read if I can find it – is 'out there'. I think Mike Carter's 'out there', you have to be to embark upon a mammoth cycling adventure around the coast of the UK. I'd like to think that I was 'out there' – and in some respects I probably am – but not as 'out there' as Stevie. In fact, he's truly 'out there' in the sense that he doesn't seem to care about the things we're all supposed to care about: jobs, prospects, 'getting on', pensions and fitting in. It takes something that I don't have to simply up sticks and cycle to Hawaii, forgetting any peer pressure to stay at home or parental pressure, perhaps, to 'knuckle down'. Or perhaps its not having these things, or not caring about these things or even not having the friendly, stable surroundings in the first place that makes people do these things. Then again, of course, it might just be the spirit of adventure, which is even better and I'd like to think that with all these guys: Mike Carter, Stevie, all the others that write great travel books, that it's more the spirit of adventure that motivates them, not, say, a desolate family life, nobody to cling on to and so on.

Last week Andy and I spoke about how we wouldn't be able to do what Mike Carter and now, of course, Stevie, have done; we have commitments, responsibilities, we're no longer carefree – were we ever carefree? I think that's why I liked One Man & His Bike, because it put me in the saddle. I did that trip with Mike but in the comfort of a hotel restaurant in California, a sofa in my living room, an airplane high above the clouds travelling from Detroit to Los Angeles. I was there in the Highlands of Scotland, in various campsites dotted around the country, in lonely bed & breakfasts in coastal towns, but at the same time I wasn't there – that is what good writing is all about, putting the reader in the adventure, transporting them from wherever they are to the landscape of the book, even if, for the reader, the reality is more a fairground ride as they trace the steps of the pioneering writer who did it for real, laying down the tracks in front of himself like Gromit did in The Wrong Trousers.

I've just spent about five minutes searching around for my copy of One Man & His Bike, which I've probably left in the office. I was going to quote from the book itself and I will, probably later in the week. For now, though, I'd advise you to go out and buy this great book, or order it on Amazon, it's amazing.

Cold weather and snow

Botley Hill Farmhouse in the snow, Saturday 23rd February 2013.

Saturday was cold, but it wasn't until we had reached Botley Hill and embarked upon the return journey that the cold really hit us. On the outward journey we had snow, which worsened when we reached our totally exposed stopping point outside the pub. Then, after tea and cereal bars and chats about various things – including Jon Ronson's The Psychopath Test, which I promised to lend to Andy – we headed back.

As always, the problem was the headwind. On the outward journey it had been a tailwind and all seemed well, even in the snow, but now the tailwind had become a headwind – or a sort of headwind as the snow was being blown across the road from our right as we headed north, meaning it was coming from the east. Either way, it was very cold. Not quite ice cream headache cold, but almost.

We said our farewells halfway along the 269 and, as I descended into Warlingham the weather warmed up as I passed Sainsbury's en route to the Green. I was looking forward to Sunday's ride. But I'd forgotten one little detail about the weekend: I was going to spend Saturday night at mum's, which was excellent, but it meant that I'd have to cancel the ride just out of pure logistics, ie it would have meant driving back to Croydon, picking up the bike, doing the ride and then driving back to Sutton. But something else was at play – pure warmth and cosiness, something sorely missing of late due to the mice. So I aborted and then realised that I wouldn't be cycling again until Saturday 16th March.

Here we are again, this time no fog, just snow!

Being round at mum's was excellent, it always is, but this time took the biscuit: a wonderful dinner of roasted salmon followed by home-made apple crumble and then, feeling rested and fed at 9pm I went to bed, in my old room, the one I used to share with brother Bon throughout my entire childhood. Needless to say I slept like a log, no mice in the bed, and awoke around 8am to sound of breakfast being made downstairs. Sleepily I headed to the breakfast room. En route I found my daughter in the living room gazing out at the garden. My wife followed and we all enjoyed a lovely breakfast before heading home around 10am or thereabouts.

The weather on Sunday was cold and I don't know whether or not Andy ventured out. I know that on Saturday he almost aborted until he received my email saying I'd be at the Green at the usual time. He might well have taken the opportunity to lie in, but then again, he might have ventured out.

I'll blog about this separately at some stage in the future, but a book worth reading is Mike Carter's One Man and his Bike, in which Carter documents a 5,000 mile trip around the coast of the UK on a bike. It's absolutely brilliant and something I would love to do, if I had the time and the money; (I'm assuming that as a freelance journalist, Carter must have accumulated some savings or was pretty sure he'd be employable on his return. But no matter, the book is fantastic and well worth a read. I'll post a separate review when I finish it, but go out and get it now, it's in Waterstone's.

All these photos by Andy Smith.

More snow means no cycling at all this weekend

There was a strong chance that we'd go out today, although, somehow, I knew we wouldn't be as more snow was promised and, once again, the delivery was bang on time, as predicted by the weathermen.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. My back garden in the snow

The road outside my house was clear so I figured  – and so did Andy – that a ride would be possible, although I knew that I'd have to get the car out of the garage, take out the bike and then put the car back, which would have been a nuisance. Deep down, therefore, I was counting on the weathermen to be right, mainly because I knew darn well it would damp and very cold out there today and, next to rain, extreme cold is not good for cycling. There were rumours of icy roads too so generally speaking I was aware a ride today (Sunday) wouldn't be a good idea.

I texted Andy around 6am saying I wouldn't be going, based purely on the fact that it wasn't going to be pleasant. It was one of those 'aborts' that turns out to be the right thing. We'd been talking about a later start, meeting at 8am instead of the usual 0730, but by 0800 the snow had started to fall and now, at 1144 it's still coming down: fine snow, but constant and the black roads have turned white again.

Not sure how it would have played out, only that Andy and I would have met at the Green, where there's no cover, and probably cycled back home again, getting a soaking in the process. All-in-all, therefore, a timely and sensible 'abort', although I have no idea whether or not Andy went out alone. He might have done as he's bike's been in the repair shop and he hasn't been cycling for a couple of weeks or more. I went last weekend so I'm relatively at ease with missing out this weekend.

I'm hoping that by next weekend the snow might have thawed and the weather improved a little as I'd like to get out there – if only to eat my mum's cake and sip hot tea at the Tatsfield Bus Stop, although I could do that now so perhaps the real reason is getting out on the bike, chewing the fat with Andy who, I think, hasn't been out since the 29th December (correct me if I'm wrong, Andy).

Dog the Bounty Hunter - he looks like the lion from the Wizard of Oz

Actually, I quite like it when the snow falls. I've spent the entire weekend just lazing about in the house. The car is warm and dry in the garage, a beef casserole is cooking in the oven and outside the snow falls. All very cosy. It would be good if Percy the Parkeeper or Tales of Peter Rabbit was on the box, or Columbo, something like that.

During the afternoon I sat and watched a few episodes of Dog the Bounty Hunter, which is an odd programme for so many reasons. Why do all the criminals he catches know him and treat him like an old buddy? Why are they all really amiable people? Why do they not swear at him or, worse still, why aren't guns fired? And I don't know about you, but if I was on the run, the first person I'd notice if I was on the look-out for the fuzz would be Dog himself. He looks like the lion in the Wizard of Oz for a start, he really stands out and he's not in anyway inconspicuous, is he?

I then munched on some Christmas cake, had baked beans on toast for dinner (having eaten a hearty lunch) and watched Aquamarine (a girly movie that I ended up enjoying). Lastly, I sat and watched Road to Perdition with Tom Hanks – what a fantastic movie!

Snow covers the UK (and our cycling routes)

Yours truly in the snow, Friday January 18th 2013.

The snow had been promised by the weathermen and this time they delivered. When I woke up yesterday morning it was clear and I reached work without any hassles, but the snow had started to fall and by the time I reached work it was a blizzard. It didn't stop snowing and by lunchtime it was decided to close the office and we all went home. Despite the snow, I managed to get home without any problems, eating half of my corned beef and mustard sandwiches on the train and the other half on the platform at Purley.

I called Andy and, with some bravado, suggested that unless it was actually snowing, we'd go out on a ride. What I failed to realise was that my bike was in the garage – and so was the car. Not only that, there was snow on the drive and to get the bike out would have meant getting the car on the snowy drive – which might have been problematic – and then having to negotiate slippery road surfaces. Add to that the general unpleasantness of weather like this, which is accentuated while riding a bike, and hey presto! Abort!

Behind that white garage door on the far right is my Kona.

So, here I sit in the conservatory, looking out on the snow. Snow makes everything much brighter, as if there's a full moon. It also makes things much quieter as the snow muffles sound. Yesterday I went out for walk with my daughter around 4pm as the light began to fail and the streetlights were switched on (I know, they come on automatically). There's something quite warming about walking the streets in the snow and noticing lamps on in other people's houses.

There's not much to do in the snow other than relax at home and that's what we did. We'll probably do the same today too. More snow is expected tomorrow (Sunday) so I'm not expecting the bike to come out until next weekend. Andy, if you're reading this, I've still got some slices of cake so worry not! That  and a mug of tea will make next week's ride worth the effort.

The shots accompanying this post were taken while out on the walk.

Snow falls over London...and then disappears!

December 5th 2012, snow started falling around 0730hrs.

It's snowing in London and here's photographic evidence from my back garden to prove it.

With the snow falling outside I figured it best to find the warmest coat in the cupboard and put on the old walking boots. It was a good move, but only for the walk to the station. Snow was everywhere, cars were driving slowly to avoid skidding and I trod carefully as I made my way to the station, thinking: there won't be any cycling this weekend.

However, once on the train, which was running on time, and then, later, when I reached Redhill, the snow had disappeared. By lunch time there was nothing – although I heard that very little snow fell on Redhill – and when I reached home, it was as if there hadn't been any snow.

Still, my golden rule will always apply: once it snows, you can bet your life there will be more.

Out in the snow...

Andy on the roadside on the approach to Tatsfield churchyard.

I was up at 6am this morning and when I looked out of the window it looked pretty cold. The cars were frosted up, there was still snow on the ground and it looked nasty: not the sort of weather to be cycling in, I thought, pointlessly, as I recalled sending an OK text to Andy about a Sunday morning ride. But I was prepared. The tea was made, I was dressed in many layers and when I went outside to fetch the bike I found myself thinking, 'what's all the fuss about, it's not that cold'.

Cycling up the road, however, things changed. It started to snow. Only very finely, but it was snowing and as I reached the top of Church Hill it was quite heavy snow and it was laying. By the time I reached the Green I was wondering when Andy would call with an abort text, but nothing came my way and then, having been on the Green for about four minutes, he turned up.

The snow continued to fall as we made our way past Knight's Garden Centre and the temperature had dropped too. My feet (and other extremities) were frozen and we were surprised to see a couple of other cyclists out on the road - only the hardened few get up and go out in this sort of weather. Or perhaps that should read 'only the real idiots go out in this sort of weather'. And, to be fair, we were a couple of idiots, but, in a strange sort of way, we were both very happy to be out in the snow. It doesn't matter if you're wrapped up well - and we both were.

Yours truly, carrying his bike in the Tatsfield churchyard.

My only mistake was putting on a pair of old Doctor Marten shoes, purchased in Portland, Oregon, in 2007, when I had a perfectly decent pair of walking boots in the porch. To be fair, apart from the shoes making my feet much colder than they would otherwise have been in the boots, the only real problem they presented me with was walking when we finally reached the Tatsfield Churchyard - a foolish venue choice as there's no cover and the seats would be covered in snow and ice.

Remember that Doctor Marten shoes have smooth soles - not ideal for snow or ice. It took me four times as long to walk from the churchyard gate to our benches than it took Andy, but fortunately I had the bike to keep me upright.

We munched our cereal bars and drank our tea, standing up for two reasons - one, there were no benches on which to sit; and two, to improve the circulation in our feet. Had the church been open, we'd have gone inside, but it was locked so we loitered about and then it started to snow again.

Around 9am we headed back home and, to be fair, it was very pleasant. Cold, yes, but it was an invigorating ride and we both felt better for going and not sitting around in the house feeling smug that we were warm when it was cold and unforgiving outside.

There's something very nice and evocative about snowy landscapes and Andy managed to get a few shots (as you can see). It took me back to the early days of our cycling when we went a bit mad on going our regardless of the weather. On the way back there were virtual white-out conditions, but we were kitted out in warm clothing (apart from those DMs) and that made it pleasant.

Andy took this shot of the landscape with yours truly in the foreground.

I won't say that I wasn't pleased to reach home. My bits were frozen solid and my feet needed a bit of flexing. Right now, as I write this, I've recovered.

One last point, it was the first time we went out when it was snowing before we mounted our bikes. Normally, we'd have aborted, but we went for it; every other time, we'd been caught in the poor weather.

Snow stops this week's cycling

It's very cold out there, but no more snow has fallen. There is a slow thaw in place, but it's really slow and  there's a lot of icy roads and pathways. Yesterday I went over on the way to the station. Fortunately there was nobody around to see me.

Elmfield Way, South Croydon last weekend.

Right now it's 0751hrs on Saturday. Normally at this time, Andy and I would be en route to wherever we were going: the churchyard, the bus stop, the village, even Godstone Green, but it's too cold and, let's face it, not at all pleasant. So I'm sitting in the conservatory, dressing gown on, listening to the television, which is in the other room, and writing this blog.

There's been a lot of stuff on cycling in the media this week. Last night, comedian Ross Noble was on Room 101 (a comedy panel show on BBC1) saying how much he despises cyclists - commuting cyclists. He doesn't mind mountain bikers (like himself) who cycle in the woods but those who jump red lights and  especially those on recumbent bicycles, he can't stand them. I know what he means about recumbent bikes and, to a degree, what he was saying about 'commuting' cyclists. I don't commute on my bike. It comes out at the weekends for an early morning rural ride.

There was an article in the Evening Standard a few days ago talking about how people are quite happy to watch crime take place right under their noses and do nothing about it: the paper rigged a situation where a man with bolt cutters went around stealing bikes in crowded places and noted how nobody did anything to stop him - that's typical modern Britain, but then again, if it wasn't your own bike, why would you stop him? Selfish? Yes, but I'm not going to risk my neck with a nutter if the property being stolen has nothing to do with me; besides, it's only a bike.

Then, on television, a couple days ago, there was something on Bristol, a provincial city in the South West of the country, that has spent a few bob on making the city 'cycle-friendly' – lots of cycle paths, although I bet that the cycle paths in question are nowhere near enough and that if I emerged from Templemeads station with my bike I'd still have to ride on busy and dangerous roads.

On the world stage, Syria is rapidly becoming the big problem with Russia telling the West to keep out while Assad and his regime set about bombing the city of Homs. Not good.

Scooby Doo's on the box, the kettle is purring away and a cup of tea is on the way. We've had the snow hanging around all week, thanks to that 'slow thaw' I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

The photograph accompanying this post was taken last Saturday morning in Elmfield Way. Things look roughly the same today.

Two years ago...
One year ago...

Snow - another delivery on the way

Siberian weather. Again. Yes, folks, as I write this, it's snowing out there: just fine stuff, but it's laying, like a soft, white blanket, on the roads and pathways. Will we get a ride in this weekend? It's looking unlikely. I'm sitting at home, watching the Leveson Enquiry on the ten o'clock news. It's Thursday night and now there are Tibetans on the box, setting themselves alight in protest against Chinese repression.

Up to three inches of snow is promised for tomorrow. The BBC's Ed Thomas is in York, microphone in hand, coat on. "And that is where the problems have been: on the road and in the ice...", he said.

"The problem has been rain washing away the grit...Yorkshire has been pelted with frozen rain...and that's why people are asking people to take care on the roads if they have to drive. The snow is on the move," says Thomas.

"Tonight there is snow at Heathrow...expect some disruption tomorrow."

Last weekend: 4th and 5th February 2011 - no cycling as Andy's bike went in for repair. If the snow comes and goes this coming weekend, we'll probably go out on Sunday.

A winter wonderland!

Yours truly 'doing a Shackleton'.

These two pics were taken in April 2008, long before NoVisibleLycra.blogspot.com was conceived and, as I was saying to Andy last week, I don't think they've ever been published.

Why Andy was smiling I don't know.

In April 2008 it snowed. Onc minute there was no snow and we'd managed to cycle all the way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. But soon the snow came and we had to get home. At first, it seemed like fun, cycling in the snow, but our giggles turned to grimaces as the cold set in.

When I was at school, we used to call ugly people 'face ache'. As in, "Oi! Face ache!" But now, as we headed back along the B269 in the snow, our faces were genuinely aching. It wasn't pleasant and we were both glad to reach home.

Another spooky churchyard photograph....

Snow ruled out cycling and I had to walk to our local
supermarket on Saturday afternoon, which meant another
saunter through the churchyard. I took this shot on the iPhone.

Spooky churchyard scenes are becoming rather familiar to readers of this blog, thanks to the snow. We had a shed load of the stuff fall yesterday around 1030hrs and it went on and on throughout the day, although it wasn't (isn't) as deep as it was on December 1st when over a foot fell on Sanderstead. This time it was about five or six inches, but it's still there now, as I sit in the conservatory looking out on the garden and there's no way the bike is coming out of the garage; for a start, I wouldn't get the garage door open without a fight and I know for a fact that I'd come off within yards of mounting the Scrap.

I'm assuming that Andy isn't waiting for me on the Green and I'm hoping that the airports will be clear for him tomorrow when he and his wife Marcia fly off to Jamaica for Christmas.

"The weather outside is frightful..."

I called my brother and pretended I was out on the bike, approaching Woodmansterne Green and where the hell was he, but the phone had switched to voicemail and I can only assume he hasn't heard it yet. In fact, I know he hasn't, because he called me and I had to explain how I'd left a message for him.

Anyway, outside right now, the snow is falling, quite heavily. Yesterday it fell from the skies in the early afternoon and my car had to be abandoned half way along the Upper Selsdon Road. I went back there around 9pm and drove it home as the roads had cleared. Now, the snow has started again and my thoughts turn towards the Christmas tree, which we haven't bought yet. It looks as if I'll have to walk in the snow to get the food, but hey, I've done that before and it's really no hardship. In fact, it makes for an adventure and the opportunity for me to pretend (to myself) that I'm Scott or Shackleton – or a contestant on 70 Degrees North.

The bike will remain in the garage this weekend, despite Andy and I resolving to go tomorrow; although, who knows? If the temperatures pick up and the snow thaws, we might well get out there. I'll keep you all informed.

No doubt Simon Cotter out in Australia has completely different weather. I mean, the very thought of having my Christmas lunch on the beach makes me shudder, but out there it's probably boiling hot sun and foot-burning sand, not to mention warm seas and ice cream. But not here in the UK.

Anyway, I'll better hang up – or rather stop writing. Oh, on an historical note, this time last year it was snowing too, check out the archive.

Andy's off to Jamaica – and they're promising more snow in the UK

A view that Andy will see a lot over Christmas

On Monday, Andy flies off to glorious sunshine in Jamaica for his Christmas break and I bet he's not even bothered about missing the Top Gear Christmas Special either. While yours truly is cycling in the rain and sleet to Woodmansterne Green on Boxing Day, Andy will be lying on a beach somewhere and the last thing on his mind will be cycling and whether or not he should wear his hat underneath his crash helmet.

The Jamaican Flag

He won't even be able to access the net to check out the blog and find out how we're all doing back here in Blighty where there's nowt to do but watch the Eastenders Christmas punch-up and other banal television programmes. Oh, alright, there's the Queen's Speech and, if we're lucky, there might be some student protests to liven things up a bit, but Andy's going to miss it all and I bet he's really cheesed off about it too.

The view that Matthew will see a lot over Christmas
(pic from http://stitchesoftime.wordpress.com)

Still, here's hoping he has a good time and is refreshed and ready for some January cycles, which are bound to be jam-packed with snow, sleet, rain and wind.

Update from last weekend...

Sorry about the rant on student protests. Had I gone out cycling on Sunday it probably would never have been written, but hey ho!

We cycled to Tatsfield Village on Saturday and it was pretty cold but it was a fairly unadventurous journey. Sunday didn't happen last week, but we're both game on for a ride this coming Sunday, the day before Andy flies off to Jamaica.