Over to mum's for breakfast...

It was another perfect day: Blue skies, sun shining, but cold. There was frost on the paths and on the windscreens of cars, even late in the morning. But I felt fine and more than dressed for the occasion.

I rode down West Hill, the cold breeze smacking my face. It was the only moment when I felt the cold. The rest of the journey was fairly flat, apart from riding up Hayling Park Road, but the Rockhopper Sport meant I could take the ascent in my stride. I passed the Purley Playing Fields, turned right on to the A23 and cut through the Grand Theft Auto industrial estate, emerged on to Stafford Road and headed towards Carshalton – and mum's house.

Breakfast a mum's: boiled egg, orange, tea and a slice of bread and butter

Near Wallington I was overtaken by a man on an old 1998 Kona, but it still looked good, all Kona bicycles look good. "It's my winter bike," said the man, when I caught up with him and we both powered our way towards Sutton. He told me how he'd been cycling for 40 years and then, having said goodbye, he was gone, turning right while I continued straight ahead. Later I caught a brief glimpse of him as a he crossed the road that I was slowly advancing along. He clearly knew of a short cut.

At mum's my breakfast awaited me: boiled egg, fingers, a slice of white bread (good quality bread), a mug of tea, make that two. Golden Shred marmalade – mum said it used to be dad's favourite – was offered, but I declined.

We chewed the fat. Next door's baby wasn't well during the week and had to go to hospital; mum always gives John and Marion across the road a bottle of red wine for Christmas; my sister has her Christmas tree up; there's a marriage in the family, taking place in Brixham on New Year's Eve; Ainsley Harriet (he's a 'celebrity chef') has a special way of cutting up an orange; mum's been taking regular doses of cider vinegar (1 tablespoon per day) since she was 19 years old – it's supposed to be really good for you, but I tried it once and it's really unpleasant. Mum likes the towels we bought for her birthday.

Frost on mum's lawn. This shot taken through the kitchen window

The ride home was fine. I retraced the route of my outward journey. There was still frost on car windscreens, the sky was still blue and the sun continued to shine. As I passed the Purley Playing Fields Sunday League football was in full swing. I rode down Hayling Park Road, crossed the A23, followed Jarvis Road towards the Upper Selsdon Road and headed south towards home.

It was a good ride, albeit a solo one without the usual on-ride companionship provided by Andy and Phil.

Later I drove to Handcross in Sussex to see Dave and his new gaff in the country – 44 acres of woodland and a lake. Amazing. Now I'm home, Strictly's on the television, Judge Rinder's been voted off. Later I watched a fantastic programme on Channel Four, Alone in the Wild. A man tries to survive alone in the Yukon. Scary stuff and he manages 50 days, but in the end lost too much weight through not finding enough food. What a guy.

Rain stops play...

'Sleek lines, ergonomic design...'

I awoke on Sunday morning to the sound of rain hitting the windows. Yesterday evening I had aborted based on having been on a shortish ride to check things out and finding that I was still in a bit of pain. Don't get me wrong, not major pain, but enough to produce a wince, particularly riding uphill. But, as I've said before, things are getting better by the day, so next week I'll be on the bike, back in the saddle and heading off for Tatsfield or Westerham or wherever we decide to roam.

Sending an abort text is a bit like having a Get Out of Jail Free card in Monopoly, but when you use it and then find that you wouldn't have gone out anyway, it's kind of a waste of an abort, if that makes sense. Not that we have a finite number of aborts and then we have to go cycling regardless; it doesn't work that way, but I do always feel that I've cheated myself, let myself down for no reason, if I've played my hand, delivered an 'abort' and then woken up to find it's raining. Andy would know, for example, that had it not been raining, I wouldn't have been on the bike. Of course it works both ways, but, as I say, it's not as if we each have a finite number of aborts, perhaps we should have, although there are no rules so nothing really matters. The key thing is to get out there and go for a ride.

Peace of mind - subject of this morning's Something Understood

So, as I write this it's sunshine outside, but it's been raining, drizzling, you name it, it's not been pleasant. And it's a little cold too, but in all honesty I needed to rest up another week, chill a little, lie in for longer than usual. This morning, for example, I listened to an entire episode of Something Understood on Radio Four. It was all about peace of mind and how those awful insurance ads on the television depict people enjoying 'peace of mind' financially, lazing around on hammocks or looking out from a glass-fronted beach house on to a sunny coastline. But peace means something else. Peace means no war, which is good, but there's always a war going on some place in the world. Peace, it was argued, is a fugitive state, but what about silence? Is silence peace? It could be, but there's never really any silence. Even if you're in a room, a padded cell, there's still the sound of your own breathing. Anyway, that was the subject of the programme and when it was over I got up and made some tea and started doing things: looking for dust sheets in the garage, checking out my bike in the process, admiring its sleek lines and ergonomic design and wishing it wasn't raining and cold and that Andy and I were heading towards the village or somewhere on our usual early morning jaunt.

Just before the streetlights came on I went for a ride around the block; it was great, albeit a little repetitive, but it was good to get out. The rain had stopped and the roads had dried up and I followed a route along Ellenbridge, into Southcote, then Ridgeway, left into Arkwright, left again on to Church Way and left on to Morley; and then I did a few loops: Ridgeway to Arkwright to Church Way to Morley – repeat and fade – until it was dark enough to make it dangerous (without lights). So I headed home, locked up the bike, turned on the TV and found that Naga had been voted out of Strictly, if you're interested.

I won't even say where we went...

Saturday 12 December: Mild weather. Still weather. No wind. No Phil. The streetlights were still on, but the day was slowly dawning as I rode along Ellenbridge, aware of a distinct lack of external festive decorations in the street. Just one house.

It's quite a hill from my place to the top of Church Way, but I've been riding it for years and it's not really a problem anymore, even if it does get a little tough at the top before crossing the main road and entering the churchyard on the other side. I took it in my stride as always as getting off the bike within 15 minutes of mounting it would have been tantamount to, well, laziness.

Saturday morning at Warlingham Green

At the green there was no sign of Andy so I parked up and set about taking snaps of the continuing 'works' being carried out by the local council (new paving I think). In last week's post I forgot to mention Warlingham Green's Christmas tree. As always, it's a little understated, but probably a darn sight better than Tatsfield's. Not that I've seen this year's village offering.

Andy was running late and I started to wonder whether he would turn up. With this thought in mind I considered riding alone to Botley Hill or the Tatsfield Bus Stop or retracing my steps along the Limpsfield Road, cutting through to Purley and following Foxley Lane to mum's house.

I decided to ride towards Botley Hill and was almost ready to set off when Andy arrived. His alarm hadn't gone off, but we had only lost around 15 minutes so it really didn't matter.

We rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, our destination, and on arrival broke out the tea and BelVita biscuits. For the next 20 minutes or so we simply passed the time of day until we were ready to head home again.

The ride was good both ways and so was the weather. I reached home around 0930hrs having waved goodbye to Andy at Sline's Oak Road.

At the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Saturday 12 December 2015

The rest of the day was spent looking for a real Christmas tree, a most unrewarding experience involving two garden centres and a DIY superstore. Not the best of days, it has to be said, and it was followed by a sleepless night, which led to an abort text at around 0500hrs on Sunday morning – although, had we gone out, we would have met with a soaking. Phil also aborted, citing decorating as the chief reason behind his absence. Right now (at 1432hrs on Sunday afternoon) it's fairly pleasant and it's certainly not cold.

I drove over to mum's to pick up the annual festive hamper she makes for us all and to indulge in some tea and fruit cake. After lunch I drove over to Andy's house to hand over a Christmas cake mum has made for him. Andy went out for a local ride, leaving the house at 0700hrs and getting back before the rain.

My next ride is on Boxing Day – possibly to Woodmansterne Green – so it was a bit of shame to miss a ride on Sunday morning. Still, that's what happens now and then and I'm not complaining.

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