I escaped the rain

At first I dawdled. I wanted to leave at 0800hrs, or did I? I'd already looked outside and the scene that greeted me was one that said it was going to rain, even if the iphone weather app said no rain until around 1600hrs. I decided to put my faith in the phone, it had been right before and I was sure it wouldn't let me down. But where to go? A short ride was mooted, a Washpond Weeble, no tea, no stopping, just constant ride in the gloom. No, surely not, there has to be more to life than a non-stop ride to nowhere. Oxted was always on the cards, but the two people I'd hoped might be there both butted out. Not a problem. 

Costa Biggin Hill...very pleasant

When I'm riding alone or not meeting anybody it means just one thing: greater freedom. I could leave the house when I wanted to and that helped in a way. I set off with no fixed idea as to where my final destination would be, but I had started thinking about Biggin Hill. Now there's a place I hadn't been to for a long while. I had fleeting memories of the place, the modern houses that were seemingly stacked on top of one another, the Spitfire Cafe, Stocks Hill, Ozzie's Cafe where they only accept cash or are closed...so that's where I decided to go. Tatsfield and Biggin Hill are virtually joined at the hip. One second you're in Biggin Hill and then there's a sign that says 'Tatsfield'. 

On the outward route I rode along the 269 and headed for Tatsfield Village, the temptation there being Sheree's Tearoom, but it's poor value for money even if the surroundings on a decent day can be quite pleasant, what with the pond and that whole village green thing going on. But I bypassed it, heading down Lusted Hall Lane, which was far more twisty than I remembered - and a little precarious when cars are around, but soon I was there, in Biggin Hill, riding through the burbs, trying to get my bearings and soon I found Ozzie's, having forgotten they only accepted cash. I never carry cash and I wasn't going to start now. Imagine that, drawing out money from a cashpoint, say a tenner, and then just spending a couple of quid on a cup of tea and having eight quid of loose change in my pocket. 

My bike outside Costa in Westerham last Sunday...

Cash is dead money, it's already been debited from the bank account, it has to be spent when, of course, it never had to be before it was drawn. I know, silly argument, but it's the way I think, so I circled back on myself and headed up the arduous Stocks Hill, right to the top and then a right turn and a slalom on the pavement to avoid pedestrians. I was looking for the Costa. I knew it was there and I knew it was at the far end of the High Street. I passed the Spitfire Cafe and it was closed, which was good as the cup of tea you get in there is a small mug. I wanted the large Costa English Breakfast in a takeaway mug, because you get more in the takeaway cup than you do in the pot and the tea stays warmer for longer. I did consider a Millionaire's Shortbread but it was £2.50, just like the tea. In fact, it might have been £2.60 and I didn't feel that was particularly good value for money either, so just a tea. 

Andy's New forks...love them!

I sat outside underneath the gloomy skies, which got gloomier as time passed and soon a fine drizzle began to fall and it might as well have been October, not July. Suddenly everything was extremely depressing. I was sitting under an awning so I wasn't getting wet. I just sat there watching the rain fall and thinking about the inevitable ride back. The vibe was bad, there was nothing to look forward to other than a soaking, or that's what I was thinking. My bike was padlocked a little way from the Costa but I could still see it. A few women went past with dogs, well one woman. There was a couple sitting close by with a small dog and they eventually upped and left and then a thick set man with a bushy beard sat on an adjacent table drinking coffee. Not sure what he ordered but I think it was an espresso. When the woman with the dog walked by he asked if it was okay to stroke the dog, she said yes, but don't be upset if he doesn't want you to stroke him. Fair enough, and the dog seemed a little indifferent to the man. A man with a tattoo on his upper right arm walked by with his daughter and soon it was time for me to consider the ride back. 

The rain continued but it was fine, very fine, like one of those sprays you might use on delicate flowers. I unpadlocked the bike and headed off back down the high street, gliding down Stocks Hill, bearing left and finding my way to something like Ricketts Hill or Ricketts Road, which was a long and arduous hill but not anyway near as hefty as going back up Lusted Hall Lane. I always seem to meet women when I'm climbing hills on the bike and they always have something to say, like "Not far to go, you're almost there!" And I always respond in kind and then carry on up to the top. She was right, there wasn't far to go, but I always get into my stride on hills, I knuckle down if you like and just move forward without thinking. I'd gotten used to the rain and it was so light that I didn't really get soaked at all. In fact, the rain stopped and I reached home intact.

Near Rectory Lane on the return ride from Westerham recently

The rain all but stopped by the time I reached Tatsfield Village green and followed Approach Road out towards Clarks Lane where I turned right and headed for Botley Hill. Then it was just a straightforward jaunt along the 269, through Warlingham, into Sanderstead and home. The bike's been performing really well of late, especially the gears which have been changing up and down with ease. During the week I did two Norfolk Nobblers. I've been feeling so tired and weary and have been finding it hard to get my act together and ride the bike. It might be something to do with not eating a decent hot meal at lunch time. I've been living on sandwiches and to be honest it's been fine but I've noticed that I've been getting increasingly weary. 

Saving money by taking the bus home, not the train...

I've taken to getting the bus home and just buying a single ticket for the inward journey to work. This way I save £25 a week, although I've been spending the extra on tea and toast and mineral water, but it's still good. The bus means I have almost a two-mile walk from the bus stop to home and this is fairly pleasant, but when I get home the last thing I want to do is get on the bike... or rather that was the case on Tuesday when I did the first ride. As soon as I turned on to West Hill and an immediate incline I almost turned back, I was THAT tired, but I persevered and put in a time of around 38 minutes. Put it this way, I was glad when I reached home and logged the ride on Strava. But then, two days later, on Thursday, after having a hot meal at lunch time (chicken bap, apple pie and custard and two mugs of strong tea) I rolled with it and shaved around four to five minutes off my time. 

Having a hot meal at lunch time is good

The Nobbler is harder than you might think, it's like a roller coaster and if I put the effort in to it I really feel it is doing me some good. I've also been using a trim wheel that has been sitting in the garage for years, but I've brought it back into the house and have been doing around 25 reps or whatever it is they're called. It's supposed to be good for the core and the abs and stuff, but let's see.Right now it's Saturday night, it's 1936hrs and once again I'm watching the Editors at Glastonbury on the television (iplayer). They're such a good band. I'm now watching Alt-J, never listened to them before, but they sound very promising. Actually, I'm not sure they're my cup of tea, in fact I'm going to turn them off, I don't like the cut of their jib. I've switched to Pale Waves, an indie rock band from Manchester with a female singer, but they're not that good so I'm back watching the Editors again.

 

Back to Biggin Hill

Polesteeple Hill, Stock Hill, Ricketts Hill Lane, Hillcrest and, of course, Biggin Hill. The common denominator? It's the word 'hill' of course and Biggin Hill is loaded with them. I decided to make a return visit following last week's ride and this time I wanted to find the main high street and the Spitfire Cafe. Last week I simply rode there and back, but I figured it would be good to hang around for a while. Stop one, of course, was Ozzi's Cafe.

I rode the fast way to Tatsfield and then, on a whim, decided to ride along Lusted Hall Lane, a road I remembered riding up with Andy a few years ago. I recall a very steep hill and was glad that on this occasion I was riding down, not up. Lusted Hall Lane starts with terraced council houses peppered with satellite dishes. It twists and turns into the countryside and soon there are fields on either side of the road. The road dips and turns and within minutes I found myself facing a wooden sign that welcomed me to Biggin Hill. I turned left into Sunningvale Avenue and rode towards the roundabout where, on the far side, I would find Ozzi's. The sun was shining and I felt on top of the world. It was great to be back in Biggin Hill on such an amazing day. When I reached Ozzi's, however, the fact that only cash was acceptable ruled it out for me as I only carry plastic these days. I headed up the very steep and long Stock Hill (easily strong competition for Titsey Hill) and when I reached the top I turned left and then right and found myself on what must have been Biggin Hill's high street. There was a social club, a Tesco Express, a Waitrose and a Costa Coffee, but there was also the Spitfire Cafe. 

The sign that says you're in Biggin Hill!

I padlocked the bike on some nearby railings and went inside. I ordered a large mug of tea (which wasn't that large at all) plus scrambled egg on a slice of toast and then sat down and took in my surroundings: there was a lot of framed photography of airmen adorning the walls; this place was a kind of shrine to World War 2 heroics and the clientele were all old enough to have been there in person. I won't go on too much about the cafe as that's something I'll do on another blog of mine, which you can find by clicking here although I will say that the food was fine. I checked the menu and there was plenty of home-made dishes and other stuff, including apple pie and custard (the mark of any self-respecting caff in my opinion). But it wasn't that cheap. You could spend a pretty penny in the Spitfire, I thought, as I finished up and prepared for the ride home.

The Spitfire Cafe is a must for any hungry cyclist.

After unpadlocking the bike I rode down to the Biggin Hill Library and Swimming Pool and I was hoping they wouldn't tell me I needed to book a swim using an app. They didn't, so I might return one day soon for a swim with my daughter. I rode up to the junction, turned right then right again on to Stock Hill and covered the brakes on the descent towards Ozzi's Cafe. Cash only, I thought dismissively as I turned left at the roundabout and headed up Sunningvale towards the start of Ricketts Hill Lane. Yes, another hill, but not as severe as returning to Tatsfield via Lusted Hall Lane. Later I turned right on to Ship Lane and rode into what you could call the 'down town', not that there's much to see bar the Old Ship pub, Sheree's Tearoom and a posh restaurant. I didn't stop, I'd seen it all before, many times. At the end of Approach Road I turned right and headed for Botley Hill then it was just a straight run along the 269. 

Chilling at the Spitfire Cafe...

I got home around 1022hrs and psyched myself up for a bit of lawn mowing. In the end I went beyond the call of duty and decided to drop the setting down to 2 on the Mountfield and give the main lawn a second once-over (after last week's initial cut). In all honesty, when I looked at it the following morning (Sunday - Mother's Day) there was room for improvement, but I had things to do, like going into London for a Mother's Day lunch at the Eagle in Farringdon. As we wandered around Exmouth Market and Clerkenwell, prior to eating, I realised that if I had to live in London it would be here on one of the quiet and narrow side streets. But I doubt I'll ever have the money for that. I jumped on the 1428 train from Farringdon to East Croydon, leaving those I was with to check out the Barbican while I engaged in a second Mother's Day escapade, this time round at mum's. I picked up the car at the station and drove home to pick up some flowers purchased earlier and then jumped back into the car and drove over to Sutton (my home town) for a slice of fruit cake and a mug of tea. I could have done without the cake as I'd just enjoyed a large dessert (plum, apple and Calvados trifle) following my pork belly main course. Is there no end to my piggery? In short, no, and now, of course, I have a pork belly of my own.

It's almost 1900hrs and Columbo, starring Antony Andrews and, of course, Peter Falk, is on television. The sun is shining outside (all morning it was cloudy and there was the odd spit of rain). I reckon Anthony Andrews is the murderer. In fact, I think I've seen it before and yes, he is the killer. 

Last week Ozzi's Cafe was closed, but not this week...

Cycling-wise not a good week. Compared with my 70 + miles last week, I only managed something like 42 miles over two rides. I was unable to ride on Thursday, which had been the plan, and that had a knock-on effect on Friday. I dawdled when I should have just got out there. Instead I had a full English at a local caff and then drove into Sevenoaks and wandered around aimlessly. Should I fret about this? No, I shouldn't, but I always do for some reason. I did manage three 2.5-mile walks on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The two rides on Thursday and Friday would have been the icing on the cake, but they were not to be. Still, there's always next week.