Sunshine after the rain...

Kona Scrap reunited with Andy's Kona Blast, Tatsfield Village

Saturday 13 December: There's been a lot of rain on a daily basis of late, prompting me to consider rejoining the gym. It's that or buying a stationary bike. Rain often means no riding, but last week, last Sunday to be precise, I decided it was time to find the waterproofs and get out there. Oddly, on my outward ride (to Sutton) there was no rain and I started to feel a little disappointed. What's the point of donning the waterproofs if it's not going to rain? Well, I needn't have worried as the return journey was wet. Very wet. I'd cycled over mum's way, or rather where mum used to live. Now, she's in a home, which is very depressing on so many levels, and I was going to visit her. It was lunch time when I got there and around an hour later the rain had started and it was really coming down. Half of me was thinking, great, I can take full advantage of my waterproofs. The other half was thinking, fuck, it's raining and I'm going to get soaked, But I didn't get soaked. I followed the same route home as the one I took out and when I got home I felt remarkably fine. Alright, I was wet and this I can never understand. I hadn't been soaked through by the rain, but my clothes were wet, mainly, I'm guessing, from sweat. So I peeled them off. The only item of clothing that had been soaked was my socks. I was wearing these waterproof fell running shoes and, while they were waterproof, they hadn't kept my socks away from the driving rain. The key thing was getting out there. For the past few weeks I've been riding only on a Sunday. My usual Saturday ride to Oxted I haven't been doing of late either because of family needs (Christmas shopping excursions) or because of inclement weather. I hate the rain and will avoid it if possible, it's the last thing I want to do, but after a while, when I realise that it ain't going to stop, I bite the bullet.

That was last Sunday (I think 7th December). It's now 13th December, a Saturday, and there was sunshine. It wasn't that cold either so off I went on a non-stop ride up to Botley Hill then right towards Woldingham and home. Coming up the steep end of Slines Oak Road where it joins the 269 there was a lot of traffic and I knew that if I lost momentum I'd have trouble getting started again. Sure enough I was forced to put my fee on the tarmac and then spent an age trying to gather enough momentum to get going. Evenually, I managed it and the rest was easy.

Tomorrow I'm planning a ride to Tatsfield village to meet Andy, it's now a regular ride to Sheree's Tearooms for a pot of tea. I'll be leaving at 0800hrs on the dot and I'll be on the Kona. The weather is looking fine, perhaps not as sunny as today, but no rain (or at least I hope not).

After a cup of tea Andy took a photo of the two bikes together. They hadn't seen each other for some time but now they were reunited. Both bikes had been on many adventures together, all of which are documented on this here blog. Check it out as both machines have been travelling the planet, or our little bit of it, for as long as this blog has existed and now here they are together again close to the bus stop in the centre of the village where they often sheltered from the rain and wind waiting to take their owners home.

Jammed tyre valve aborts the ride...

There's nothing much to say about today's ride because it simply didn't happen. We were due to meet at Tatsfield village, as we do on a Sunday, and I was up and ready to rock at 0600hrs. Breakfast over, I dressed for the ride and then headed into the garage to jump on the bike. The outside temperature was just three degrees so I was wrapped up warm and looking forward to the ride as this week events conspired against me and I had to cancel my swim. Not a problem as I'm currently planning to upgrade (or even cancel) my membership because it simply doesn't work for me. I'm a little annoyed at the fact that it's no longer possible to just 'go for a swim' like I used to pre-pandemic. It was simply a case of walking up to the reception desk, asking for a swim, paying the money and then heading for the changing room, but not any more. Today you need to 'download the app' and book your session that way, which, to be fair is fine, but currently I'm limited to two days per week (Thursdays and Fridays, preferably around 1700hrs). This, however, is only possible on one day per week (Thursday) and for some reason I can't go on Fridays. So I want to change my membership so that I can use other pools in the area, one on Thursday, the other on Friday. But the people in charge of the leisure facilities are dragging their feet and I'm now considering cancelling my membership and starting again somewhere else, but that will mean a six-mile drive or ride to another leisure centre in another town. At the moment, however, I'm simply wasting my money so if I don't get any joy I'll have to cancel my membership and look elsewhere, it is what it is... click here for more.

So my ride today has been cancelled. I'm going to take the bike to a nearby shop and use the opportunity to have a new tyre and inner tube on the bike, the current tyres (front and back) are both looking a little worn so the whole situation is a positive one as I can also cycle from the shop to mum's and back, which is roughly 15 miles and that will do me a lot of good.

To Tatsfield Village...

Last week, two trips to Tatsfield, one alone, one with Andy (on Sunday). Great rides both of them, the weather wasn't too severe, but it was a little on the chilly side, certainly on Saturday. I've taken to riding along the off-road path on the return journey along the 269. It's been okay but there are bits where the uneven path shakes the bike to smithereens and on Sunday I lost my front light as a result. I looked down and it wasn't there and the very thought of stopping and retracing my steps back along the path was too annoying to be given any major consideration, which I suppose was stupid in itself. I figure I'd buy a new front light. That said, perhaps I'll take a look for it this weekend.

Tatsfield Village pond.

I'm still angry with myself for not tying in to an exercise routine, not yet at any rate. Everything in my life is so haphazard. I might start using the trim wheel on, say, a Monday, but then I'll completely forget about it until Wednesday and it's all to do with circumstances. I might oversleep and vow to do the exercises in the evening, but then the evening comes and I completely forget about it until it's too. Likewise the Saturday ride, but this is more my fault. I simply get up, knowing I can go whenever I want and then end up still being in the house at gone 0900hrs when the demands of others starts to creep in. End result? I don't go out, although I do promise myself that I'll go in the evening and then, of course, I don't go.

Pot of tea at Sheree's...totally civilised!

Now it's the following week and it's Saturday morning (yesterday) and it's lunch time for heaven's sake and there's no way I'm going now. I'll either go tonight or (most likely) I'll content myself with the thought that I'm going tomorrow and then lol in front of the television all night. There has been a kind of on/off pattern to cycling, mainly because of cold weather and the sequence goes something like this: Two rides, one ride, no rides, one ride, two rides (per week) and so on. Last week I managed two rides, good for me. This week it's just the one and in many ways it's gone back to what it used to be pre-pandemic when rain might have stopped the Saturday ride or Andy couldn't make it on the Sunday or the weather across the weekend was so rubbish we didn't go out at all. Back then, of course, we just accepted the situation for what it was and perhaps that should be the way now, but I don't think so. It needs to be addressed and I've got to have more discipline, more get up and go, more organization and so forth. In other words, as I keep saying, I must get my act together and make a difference.

Inside Sheree's Tearooms...

It's the same for walking. I've done alright on walking. I'm not always recording the walks on Strava, but I think this week I've managed a couple of two-milers and one slightly longer, but when the International Man of Mystery isn't around I prefer a curry and rice and a mug of tea down the caff and why not? Fine, but I don't walk home, I wait for the Purley Oaks train, although, all things said, I always walk around two miles per day from my house to Purley Oaks station in the morning and at night, so the default is around a two-miler daily.

I promised myself that I'd go swimming. I haven't gone yet and we're now in February. I won't say anymore about that but hopefully one day I'll manage it and get in the groove. In fact I'm not going to say anything about my plans for exercise as whenever I do I simply don't do it.

Today I rode to Tatsfield village, forgetting that Andy wasn't going to be there. I have vague memories last week of him saying he wouldn't be going, but as I say, I forgot. So I left the house around 0800hrs and at around 0900, as Sheree's Tearoom came into view, I couldn't see Andy's trademark orange forks. I started to think, hold on, I've beaten him to it, I'm the first to arrive, this is great news, but as I drew nearer and kind of remembered him saying he wouldn't be there. In many ways I'm glad I forgot because had I remembered I probably wouldn't have gone, I'd have left it too late and then thought I'll start again next week. In other words, not remembering he wouldn't be there did me a lot of favours.

Chicken curry at Rodi's Redhill

Over the past few weeks I've been taking the off-road path on the return journey along the 269 and it's been alright, except that it's pretty bumpy, shaking the bike to smithereens and last week (rather annoyingly) I lost my front light as a result. Today, after tea at Sheree's, I followed the same route along the off-road path, but I slowed right down and kept an eye out for my light. I didn't find it, which means I'll have to buy another one. It was warmer out today than it has been of late, which made for a pleasant change. 

When I reached Sheree's, Ken was there. We wished each other a good morning and that was it; I felt glad that he didn't engage me in a chat about catheters. Instead, I sat there looking out of the window and just chilling out until I'd finished my pot of tea. Then I headed out on the ride home and I must say it was enjoyable. At least I got one ride in and things will improve, I know they will.

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

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

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

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

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

Taking shelter from a downpour...

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

The bike sheltering from the rain...

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

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

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

To Tatsfield...

Sergey Rachmaninov's 10 preludes Op. 23 (no 6 in e flat major) as short as it was, started off my Sunday morning breakfast, although, if I'm really honest, it was a boiled egg and soldiers. I'm off on a ride to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy at Sheree's, which is shaping up to be our new venue. It's almost Christmas and I guess the reason is, well, not really festive, but just cosy and friendly. The people who run the place make the whole experience welcoming. The place is festooned with impossible teapots and scented candles and other fripperies; it's also a shop selling newspapers and groceries, but it looks out on to Tatsfield's village green and pond and the whole thing is very English - and the perfect place to chill after a shortish eight-mile ride in the winter air.

As I write, there is around 30 minutes until take-off and I'll be riding the usual route. There is no rain. At least I don't think there is as yesterday's weather forecast had a sunshine icon blazing out from the computer screen, which was extremely heartening. I need sunshine and brightness and so does Andy. We have both experienced loss in recent days: my sister and Andy's wife and I would say for both of us we need distraction and the best diversion, perhaps, is cycling. Andy said he was using cycling to keep his mind intact and I've said many times in previous posts that there's much more to cycling than fitness. It provides time to think and to zone out and deal with the problems life throws our way.

Sheree's Tearooms - a place to take things easy

I've lost my sister and Andy his wife and my thoughts go out to a man who has been selfless, considerate and self-sacrificing. He is a kind, decent and noble human being who right now is having a tough time of it and while grief is a hard one to beat, it can be alleviated. I know that my sister would not have wanted me or anybody else to be unhappy and I'm sure Andy's wife Marcia would be the same. Life goes on as they say and life is for the living, but let's not forget those who have passed, their memories must be kept alive.

Tchaikovsky's Symphony Number Six is breaking the silence as I contemplate the ride ahead. There's around 15 minutes before take-off and soon I must don the fleece and the snood and head out into the garage to find the bike and then head towards Church Way and the hill that will take me to the churchyard and beyond. As I speak church bells are ringing out from the radio and they remind me of my childhood when the bell ringers of St. Philomena's broke the morning silence as I lie in bed awaiting breakfast cooked by dad and it would have been similar to what I've just eaten: a boiled egg and soldiers and tea with the accompaniment of Radio Four's Today Programme coming from dad's tiny transistor radio.

The ride was good, but windy on the outward journey and while I was wearing a heavy fleece and a jumper and tee-shirt, so three layers, it still penetrated and made me wonder if I'd bothered with the jumper. I checked when I reached Sheree's and yes, I had it on. But the weather was good and that hard headwind that had hindered me slightly heading out, was gone for the return journey. I followed the usual route along the 269 and all was well and now I'm home and feeling exercised, which is good.

Andy and I chatted for over an hour over a couple of soya lattes and two pots of mint tea with a couple of Biscoff biscuits thrown in for good measure. Sheree's, we've both realised, is a great place. It lacks the corporate tinge of Costa and it's far more relaxed and friendly. There are no queues for complicated drinks and the vibe is slower and far more cosy than any of the national coffee chains. Remember, you can't beat an independent operator. Andy visited Sheree's on Saturday much to her surprise. "I thought I'd got me dates wrong!," she said, as she normally expects to see us on the Sabbath and that's what's great about this fantastic teashop, they expect to see us! They know we're going to be there and, of course, we are. I asked if she's open on Boxing Day and the answer was no, they're not; had they been we would have been there, but as it is we'll he heading for Westerham and the corporatism that is Costa Coffee.

The wrong mindset...

The ride to Tatsfield village was par for the course. Fortunately, there was no rain, although I half expected it at any moment. The skies were grey but there was hope as I could see the sun, or rather the effects of the sun, illuminating the heavens and that meant (perhaps) that I wouldn't get a soaking, not on the outward journey at any rate.

It was Sunday and I'd missed a ride on Saturday for no reason other than my own indecisive nature. I even got ready and was standing around in my cycling gear until around 0900 when I decided I wouldn't bother. What a travesty! A perfectly decent day and I simply didn't go out. I should have struck while the iron was hot and left the house around 0800 or even 0700. 

Tatsfield village pond in the summer time

On Sunday, then, I rode to Tatsfield village to meet Andy and the weather held out. When I reached Sheree's I noted Andy's bike was already there – I spotted his bike parked outside, but to be fair, I had already seen the orange forks of the Kona Blast from a long way off. Judging by the fact that his latte was untouched, however, I knew he hadn't been there too long. As for me, well, I was running a little late, possibly around 15 minutes, and noting that Andy's coffees were untouched I knew I'd still managed to keep a reasonable time. I wasn't slacking in other words. Or, to be clearer, I hadn't really lost any of my 'fitness' even if I have been fretting about it for some time. I'm always fretting about it – and other things too. I'm a worrier and I wish I wasn't one, but I am. I keep things on my mind, silly, irrelevant things in the greater scheme of things, when I should confine them to the waste basket, and there lies my problem. There are many things on my mind, constantly, and I never seem to resolve them, they just stay there, nagging away at me. In short, I need to resolve things. But let's make no mistake: these are what is known as 'first world problems', which is shorthand for 'none of my problems have any real substance when compared to those, for example, of the good people of Gaza who are being shelled by the Israelis and there are people much closer to home who have bigger problems than I do, including my own sister, so let's get that straight from the get-go.

My current big fret is how to maintain a level of fitness during the winter months when the rain will inevitably stop play. There are many solutions:-

• Buy a bike trainer from Evans Cycles, hook up the old Kona to it and enjoy hours of cycling in the garage. But first, fix the Kona's rear wheel.

• Join a gym and use their exercise bikes AND combine with a swim (get that upper body back to what it used to be).

• Rely entirely upon riding the Norfolk Nobbler during the week, rain or shine, light or dark. Combine this with more walking, i.e. from Sanderstead to Purley in the mornings and from Purley to Sanderstead in the evenings.

• Buy an exercise bike and put it in the garden room (it's not a conservatory).

Well, starting from the top, Andy's preferred solution to my problem is the trainer from Evans Cycles. I'm not keen on this option because I don't fancy being the garage, alone, working out in the cold. In all honesty, I'd rather ride the Nobbler fives times a week and be done with it.

Joining the gym appeals as I'd be in the warmth on a decent exercise bike and then I can have a swim afterwards and a hot shower. But will I keep up the hard work? Or will I simply get bored and eventually find myself forking out £40 a month for nothing?

Relying 100% on the Nobbler is the cheapest option as there's no financial outlay; I'd just have to grin and bear a bit of cold and rain should it occur and that shouldn't bother me too much as the ride lasts around 35 minutes and surely I can take a soaking for that minuscule length of time? There are downsides, like would I feel like doing it in the dark after a hard day at work? Probably not, but that's where mindset comes in to play. I've simply got to bite the bullet and stick to it rather than wimp out and do nothing other than fret about not doing any exercise.

Buying an exercise bike and putting it in the garden room appeals, but a decent one will set me back a few bob and I've never got any money just floating around.

So, all of the above (and other matters I won't bore you with) are constantly harassing my mind, normally when I want to get a good night's sleep – something that eludes me a lot these days – even if, of late, I've taken to sleeping in outer space with BBC Radio 3 for company. This has worked a treat and only came about when I decided that I didn't want to catch a heavy cough and a cold which had invaded the household. I speak to you today as somebody who has managed to avoid illness through sleeping in a different room to the person infected and (I'd like to think) my daily intake of oranges, grapes, blueberries, bananas and an orange sliced into segments, not to forget Omega 3 fish oil and multivits too. It all seems to have done the trick and even if I've felt a sore throat brewing now and then – the tell-tale sign of coming down with a cold and a cough – I've somehow managed to avoid it. That said, I mustn't get smug about it.

Back to today's ride and when I arrived at Sheree's I ordered myself a tea and went to join Andy who, as I said earlier, had a latte and shot of espresso too. "I'm knackered," he told me and I can imagine he was considering the amount of mileage he puts in on a daily basis using his garage-based trainer and taking into account all the other things going on in his life that add stresses and strains to his existence.

We chatted about hills and cycling-related stuff and Andy quite rightly said it's all about mindset, it's about not feeling miserable and despairing as you reach the bottom of the hill, it's about, possibly, cranking the bike into a higher gear to see if your fitness level can be improved and it's about not feeling depressed at the very thought of a hill. To be honest, hills don't depress me. Fine, I think about an approaching hill if I know it's coming, I psyche myself for a big hill like Titsey or White Lane or White Hill Lane or Tithepit Shaw Lane and I get on with. I can't remember the last time I took a hill and gave up, unless it was one of those situations where I selected the wrong gear or didn't change down in time or lost momentum or a car came the other way and I had to dismount, but generally I'm fine with hills. Gone are the days when I can't handle them.

We finished our tea and readied ourselves for the journey home. While it didn't rain for most of the return journey, there was a light dusting of rain as I left Sheree's, but by the time I reached Botley Hill it was over and the rest of the ride was plain sailing.

It's 1437hrs on Sunday afternoon and I can hear the rain outside the window. There's been a lot of rain of late but so far it hasn't affected the Sunday ride, which is good. As avid readers will know, I did get absolutely drenched not long ago.

It's now 1853hrs, I've been watching the Robbie Williams documentary on Netflix (which is good) and I've been to see mum, she's fine. On 23 November she'll be 94 years old; at some stage I'll have to think about what to buy her.

It rained throughout the night. I remember being awake at 0400hrs listening to it. It was still raining in the morning but then it stopped and now, at 1159hrs on Monday 13 November, the rain has stopped and the sun is out... let's hope it stays that way.

To Oxted and Tatsfield Village

Sunday 29 October: The weird thing about writing is that I dream up ways of starting something and then I forget or I think of a different way of beginning a blogpost and then I realise that the same old themes are coming up again and again. I can't remember how I considered starting this blogpost, but it's not the way it's appearing now. In fact, talking about how I'm going to start the post was never the plan. I was probably going to start by discussing today's ride to Tatsfield village. There's been a lot of rain. I think it rained overnight because there were plenty of puddles. It's been like that of late: overnight rain and then puddles in the morning. Puddles to dodge on the 269, being careful not to drift out into the path of a car. Best, perhaps, to get wet legs. So, look, here I am talking about today's ride so I might as well continue with it. We'd decided last week that we'd be visiting Sheree's Tea rooms, not only because we've decided we like Sheree's Tea Rooms, but because the woman – perhaps she's Sheree herself – told us she'd have some vegan cake next week. I'm talking now about last week because the reason we were going this week is to sample the vegan cake she'd promised to order. Fortunately, she was on the money, she kept to her word and there was a vegan cake for Andy this morning when we arrived around 0900hrs. I opted for a non-vegan Victoria sponge. The weather had been good. Not even cloudy. The skies when I stepped outside were that sort of blue/grey colour with wispy clouds and patches, dare I say of blue. 

Last week, myself, Andy and the Illustrious Illustrator (Geoff Althoff) went for a curry in Whyteleafe. It was the place where, back in 2006, Andy and I first decided to start cycling on a regular basis – and we haven't stopped since. But things had changed. Not Geoff, not Andy, not me, not our rides, but the Indian restaurant.They conned us, over-charged us (quite considerably): three guys, nobody drinking, just one dish each, some onion bhajis, Bombay Aloo, nothing over the top, but the bill was a hefty £139. We won't be going back. Geoff and I figured that Andy got the short end of the stick (by a few quid). He'd not had the no-alcohol lager. I told Geoff not to worry about it and that Andy wasn't going to lose any sleep. I said I'd buy Andy a coffee on Sunday, which I did, and to be honest, all was well, but I understood where Geoff was coming from. During the week Geoff called Andy to discuss the matter and, to be frank, there was nothing to discuss, all was fine, all was well, it wasn't a problem.

Sheree's Tearoom where Andy enjoyed a vegan cake

But all WAS well. Andy had his vegan cake and his coffee, I had a pot of tea and some Victoria sponge, we sat and chewed the fat, it was really pleasant, talking about food and drink and stuff. I told Andy I could happily spend the rest of the morning sitting there chatting, we almost did order another drink, but just before 1000hrs we headed home. The rain had stayed away, it was still a little overcast, but I figured I'd get home without a soaking. I was almost right. All was well for most of the 269 but when I reached the Beech Farm Road area there was a short-lived shower. I remember thinking it was pretty light, nothing seemed to be getting overly soaked and by the time I approached the downward slope ahead of Slines Oak Road it had all but stopped. I carried on along the Limpsfield Road and still it was not a problem, but once I'd hit the back streets approaching the church it started. Full-on rain, a big downfall. I took shelter under a tree in the churchyard for all of five minutes and then started thinking (as it eased off a bit) that I'd head down Church Way and all would be fine. It wasn't. The rain intensified, God had turned up the volume and it started to hammer down, huge stair rods, as I rode down the hill. By the time I reached Morley, turned left and then right on to Elmfield and then left into Southcote, the rain was getting extreme, it never let up and I was completely drenched. Even when I reached my driveway I was still at the centre of the storm, soaked through and standing there fumbling for the key to the garage and getting wetter and wetter. I rolled the bike into the garage and stood there for a few minutes looking out at the raging rainstorm before deciding to just get out of there, lock the garage door, stand under the shelter of the porchway and then get in the house, get changed and chill. 

Later I texted Andy, told him I got soaked through and then set about doing Sunday stuff, except that it was too wet to really do anything. I took a drive to the shops and there were huge puddles forming everywhere. I wasn't gone long, but later went to Starbucks for a very enjoyable half an hour or so. There 's a new Starbucks in Oxted and it was there that I had an English Breakfast tea and a small bar of dark chocolate (it's good for you apparently). If there was rain, it was drizzle, but here and there it might have got a little heavier, I don't know. Apparently there's going to be a lot of rain over the next few days.

On Saturday, while I thought I might have taken a soaking, I didn't. I rode to Oxted and sat in Caffe Nero with a small cappuccino (51 calories) and an apricot croissant or pastry, I didn't know what it was if I'm be honest. Is it an apricot croissant or just a pastry with a couple of apricots in it? Who knows? Who cares? I spent about five minutes in the charity shop next door looking for a clockwork or battery-powered toy motorboat and then jumped on the bike and headed home, up Titsey Hill. The whole ride was good, all 20 miles of it.

Later I drove to Sevenoaks, had a snack in Soprano's and then just hung around for a few minutes before heading home again. It was to be the usual Saturday night: Strictly on the box, I cooked (which is rare these days) and I messed up a bit. I never cooked the aubergine for long enough, but all was well in the end and then I slobbed out and watched a weird (but good) movie, The Raven on the Jetty.

The cakes have to stop, but they don't. The cappuccinos need to stop, but they don't. I was telling Andy earlier today that I'd kind of cut out the spuds. During the week I had two meals (both fish fillets with brocolli) but no potatoes. Andy said (quite rightly) that I shouldn't have stopped the spuds. He said I should have had spuds, brocolli and butter beans. Nice idea, I thought. But listen, I'll stop there. 

You'll never guess what? I forgot to post this blogpost. It was written on Sunday 29 October and I probably left it in order to find a photograph. Well, clearly I forgot all about it. Anyway, here it is, I hope you enjoy it.

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

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

"Number three crop, please!"

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

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

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

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

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

It was too early for lunch...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Random thoughts from Lazyville...

You know when you come across as depressed or down, there's always somebody there to remind you that there are others worse off than you are? Well, there is something flawed about that position as basically it's stating that if, for some reason (or reasons) you're feeling down or depressed or pissed off, that, in reality, you shouldn't be in such a state, that it's wrong, unjustified, unreasonable, and so forth. So, in other words, whatever is bugging you, you shouldn't be depressed or upset or pissed off about it because of old so and so or this or that person who has something 'real' to be worried about. I understand that entirely and I'm sure that everybody who feels a little down or depressed occasionally, knows of somebody who's in a worse position than they are and that those people deserve all the support they can get. Think of those in Ukraine, for example.

I'm in the basement, thinking 'bout the government

I'm feeling aggrieved, depressed, annoyed, angry, pissed off, down and dejected for all sorts of reasons, not least the state of the UK and the awful government which has presided over the country since the days of David Cameron, Britain's third worst Prime Minister next to Boris Johnson and (at the top of the list) Liz Truss. I feel powerless, there's nothing I can do about it and, as I write this, I realise that there are a lot of people in this country who, for want of a better word, (although I realise this will sound very arrogant on my part) are basically ignorant (in my opinion). I'm talking about those who really thought that Boris Johnson was fit to run the country and those who support the current Tory government.

Harry and Meghan 

Then there is all the nonsense surrounding the royal family and in particular Prince Harry and the revelations from his book Spare, which publishes tomorrow. He's really let the side down and for no reason at all. What has he got to moan about in the overall scheme of things? He's got money, he's wealthy, he hasn't got to worry about where the next meal is coming from, he's living in a huge mansion in sunny California, he's married, he has kids and yet he feels the need to moan about his lot when, in the UK at this very moment, there are people who are nowhere near as well off as he struggling to pay their bills, there are people living on the streets and even ordinary, run-of-the-mill people like me dealing with the cost of living crisis, the strikes and so forth.

Why are we all so gullible?

The media is so obsessed with Harry and Meghan because they know that their stories will sell newspapers, it's that simple. And why is that? Because of the gullibility of the British people and, indeed, the people of the world who lap this sort of stuff up, particularly women for some reason who like nothing more than a gossip over a cup of coffee. There's nothing worse than gullibility. Why are we all so gullible? Why are we happy to go out on the days leading up to Christmas to buy stuff from shops, at extortionate prices, and then, a day after 'the big day' the shops that sold us that stuff are suddenly selling things (and the stuff we bought) at up to 60% off? There was I yesterday looking at the goods on offer in a clothes shop in Sevenoaks, a place where I had bought an expensive jumper only a matter of weeks ago, only to discover that everything in the store was now far, far cheaper. Ironically, the jumper I bought was still the same price. Perhaps next year just a small present to put under the tree (for the sake of appearances) and then a return trip to the shop (and others like it) a few days after Christmas to get greater value for money, perhaps two jumpers for the price of one and so on. But no, everybody is gullible. I wonder how many people will buy that awful book by Prince Harry? 

Looking out from Sheree's in Tatsfield Village, 8 January 2023

Cost of living crisis

The cost of living crisis is a nuisance. Every time I go out I have to fill up with petrol, restaurants are now charging extortionate prices (I say 'restaurants' when I mean cafes, snack bars, traditionally low-spend establishments). Tea at almost £3 a cup, sandwiches for around £8 - with a sad-looking salad garnish and some crisps so we all think the high prices are justified. Rail fares are going up. Can you believe that? All of last week there were no trains and we've all been inconvenienced, but they have the audacity to put up the fares, which are already extortionate. Once the weather improves and the evenings get lighter I'm going to ride to work like I did last summer, except I'll start earlier this year and make the most of it. I've bought waterproof trousers and shoes and there's nothing stopping me but my own lack of motivation, which is probably exacerbated by a lack of exercise brought on by the bad weather, those endorphins need to be stimulated but instead I'm sheltering from the rain.

Pot of tea at Sheree's in Tatsfield

Sunday 8th January 2022

Well, not today! Yesterday (Saturday 7th January) I'd checked the iphone weather app and realised that today (Sunday 8th January) there was a window of dryness that would enable Andy and I to get out there and ride the bikes. Now, it's worth pointing out that unlike me, Andy has continued riding throughout the bad weather using his trusty trainer in his garage. I should buy one too but I'm not sure it would provide me with much more motivation than a real bike to get out there and exercise despite what Andy says about how he warms up fairly quickly and even has to shed clothes as his exercise continues. I'm sure that's true. In fact, I know it is because whenever I jump on a stationary bike in a hotel gym I leave the place drenched in my own sweat. It works. But going out into a cold garage on a cold day is not easy and Andy understands this and it's good to know that somebody has my back and wants me to keep fit. Believe me, that means a lot. And the options are there: start swimming, by a trainer device, buy an exercise bike and put it in the conservatory, ride the Nobbler of an evening, all six miles of it, rain or shine, hot or cold. The easiest is the latter and the crucial ingredient is, of course, motivation. The best thing, of course, would be if the bad weather lifted, like it did this morning. I'll say this, I've felt on top of the world today and I put that down to the ride, the exercise. Remember: my last ride prior to this morning was Boxing Day. Something has to be done and Andy's right to bring it up. The other problem, of course, is the dark. If I opt to ride to work (and believe me I've seriously considered it for tomorrow (Monday 9th January) it will mean riding in the dark and that in turn will mean charging up my lights (both of which are USB-chargeable). Then all I need is some high-Viz clothing, but the lights should be enough. Am I going to ride to work in the morning? No, I'm not, but I might just get on the bike and ride the Nobbler when I get back home. It's no more than 35 minutes of hell and then I'll be back in the house with around six miles under my belt and that lovely feeling of achievement.

Tuesday 10 January 2022

It's Tuesday night, it's raining and I haven't been out since Sunday. I've checked out gym/swim membership at a leisure centre close to where I work, it's £34/month, not bad when you consider I could spend £8 per day on lunches, totalling £45 in a week, so if I take sandwiches then I save and can spend the money on the membership. But will I go? Or won't I? I might start off with all the good intentions, but then things will fall by the wayside and I'll stop, like most people do. I might not, of course, and if I can go just three times a week (and throw in a couple of lunch time swims while I'm at it) then it could be worthwhile. And when the days brighten I can ride to work and all will be well with the world. I might not need the membership for more than a couple of months. Either way I need to act, perhaps tomorrow, or the day after, I can't do anything as it's Tuesday night, it's 1919hrs and I'm waiting for dinner. I'm hungry. I've already eaten a toasted Marmite sandwich, two slices of toast and honey, one hot cross bun and that's all because I only had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and a cup of tomato and basil soup. I don't know why I ate so much on coming through the door, but I did and, fortunately, that hot cross bun has done the trick. I won't eat any more until dinner is ready, in about 40 minutes or so (chilli con carne with rice). Then I'll be fine, I'll probably have my Snore & Peace tea, watch the box (or read) and then hit the sack.

To Tatsfield...

Two cup cakes. Fair enough, but I could have settled for one. Three walnut whips? I never needed to eat all of them. I could have eaten just one, or none. I could have left them for another day and made the two ill-advised cup cakes the only sin of the day. But I didn't. I should have stopped at one. But I didn't. I should have stopped at two. But I didn't. And when I'd finished I felt guilty. Not because I'd upset anybody else, just because I'd upset myself. What the hell was I thinking? Two cup cakes and three walnut whips. It had to stop, of course it did, but it didn't. And I'm losing track too. Somewhere along the line I found myself in Tunbridge Wells, but I think that was pre-cup cakes. Not that pre- or post- mattered. It was definitely pre-cup cakes, but I had every reason to feel guilty even then, probably because I'd fucked up the day before; I might have bought a Lindt or Lindor chocolate bar, because I love the salted caramel variety and even then, at the point of purchase, I might have said to myself 'no more' and then found myself in the Zero Waste cafe in The Pantiles, probably saying no the cake (inwardly) and then ordering it anyway. And then I have the nerve, the audacity, to eat the two cup cakes the following week and then indulge further with those three walnut whips. Well, let's face it, you don't see walnut whips these days. I mean, that must have been my motivation. Perhaps I looked at them as my long lost friends. Whatever. The fact is I ate them and I ate those two cup cakes and I started to berate myself, saying 'no more, no more, just say no'. But I knew then and I know now that I won't say no, not yet at any rate. And when I got home after the walnut whips I found a double box of Jaffa Cakes in the cupboard. Admittedly, most of the box had already been eaten, but I found three biscuits and enjoyed every one of them. The next day things got a little worse. I was in the office, there were stollen cakes slices, three of them, and these little star-shaped biscuits, similar to stollen, but not exactly the same. I ate quite a few of them, but I left one on the plate when I left the office after dark. I should have eaten it, but I left it and it was probably stale and inedible the following morning.

Sheree's Store and Tearoom, Tatsfield

When I looked at the iphone's weather app this morning there was sunshine spread throughout the day. It was an opportunity I couldn't ignore. Cycling over the past few weeks has been blighted by rain. Rain, wind and a silly cape. Not forgetting the realisation that there's no such thing as waterproof clothing. My trainers are still in the garage and they're probably still wet. The cape is not worth wearing. So I've resorted to a pair of red leather All-Stars that I've had for years. I bought them in Oxford Street probably in the late seventies and they cost me just £19. I love them. I remember once being on the tarmac in Barbados, queuing to board a flight back to the UK. It was 1993 and the same All-Stars were on my feet. A little kid, a local, asked me a question. "Are they leather All-Stars, man?" I confirmed his suspicion as correct. Clearly, the All-Stars had cred and now, in 2022, the maintain that cred. They're still around and they haven't really worn or anything and the fact that they're leather probably means they're a little more waterproof than the walking shoes in the garage. Alright, I said 'trainers' but they're walking shoes and they cost me £22 on Amazon. In the summer, they're fine, but when it rains they're useless. Today there was no rain so I headed for Tatsfield Village and Sheree's tearoom. I rode the 269, considering different routes as I rode along. The weather was wonderful. I wasn't wearing any gloves, that's how warm it was. When I reached the village I entered the teashop, ordered a pot of tea and then I weakened again, but I didn't choose a cup cake, I opted instead for a Twix. For some reason I thought it was the better option, but it did the trick. I sat down among the old ladies who were talking about visiting garden centres and read my book, The Bear Comes Home by Safi Zabor. I like it, but I'm reading it very slowly. I don't know what it is about me at the moment, but I'm reading very slowly, not even daily, just when I find myself in a coffee shop or a teashop. Last Wednesday I went to a Costa Coffee in Redhill, ordered a medium cappuccino, nothing else, and sat and read the book. The previous Saturday I found myself in a Caffe Nero, having cycled there, with an English Breakfast tea doing exactly the same thing and now it's Friday 25 November, almost a week later and the weather is good so I couldn't waste any time. I had to get out there for fear that tomorrow will be stair rods and a ride will be forfeited. Nobody likes riding in the rain unless it's the summer. Andy said in text on Strava that he had maximum respect for anybody who went out last Sunday. I would agree with that. The weather was grim, to use another of Andy's words. Grim summed it up. I stayed in and I wasn't happy about it, but I soon got over the disappointment. But today was good and when I finished the tea and the Twix I headed on out of the tearoom and mounted my steed. I'd tethered it outside, like a cowboy's horse outside a saloon. I rode off thinking about Biggin Hill. I hadn't been there for a while now and I found myself thinking of the hill that leads to the high street and the Costa Coffee. For a split moment on the way into Tatsfield I considered riding down Lusted Hall Lane and then into Biggin Hill, but no, too much, there was stuff to be done at home and I had that feeling that I was on a short leash and needed to get back. As it turns out I wasn't on a leash, but there were things to do and when I got home, feeling energised like I do when I've been on the bike, I set about doing what needed to be done. The weather held out and I have no idea what it will be like in the morning or whether I'll get to Oxted's Caffe Nero. If it rains I won't be going anywhere, but if it's dry I'll head along the 269 and down Titsey Hill into Oxted where I will read for 30 minutes before riding home.

I could be watching England play the USA, it's on now as I write this, but I can't be bothered. The World Cup is for the summer, not the winter and because of the latter the vibe ain't there. I remember my father watching sport on the television but in the back garden. He'd sit there, bush hat on, yellow swimming shorts, his 'Jansen's' as he called them. It was probably a brand name. He sat outside, smoking a cigarette with the television uprooted from it's original position in the living room and turned around to face out into the garden. Dad would have been drinking a beer, probably Tolly Cobbold bitter. I remember how he gave me a glass of it on occasion, diluted with lemonade and with an ice cube added. I loved it, the sharp bitter taste softened by the lemonade and of course it goes without saying that in later life I would go on to drink a lot of beer. 

It's 2115hrs, I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here has just come on and I'm relaxing on the sofa. I could have watched the football, but didn't. Instead I watched The English on iplayer and was tempted to continue watching it, but the temptation to watch crap was overwhelming. Better go, there's a whole hour of it ahead of me.

Andy's back on the ride...

 "Possibly, if I'm fit enough," I said in reply to a text from Andy. Initially he was asking me if I made it out last Sunday, the day after my return from Pittsburgh (see previous posts). Because of the flight the answer was no. "Hobbling, hoping will improve," wrote I, adding, "Couldn't ride a bike today." It was Monday, I had decided to work from home rather than walk to and from the railway station unnecessarily. I was still popping pills trying to reduce the swelling in my right foot. By Wednesday things had improved somewhat and they got better on Thursday and Friday. 

Matt and Andy, but not recently!

Andy was hoping he'd get the okay from the hospital to ride the bike, adding that a short ride to Tatsfield would fit the bill nicely. I was a little concerned as to whether I'd be able to ride the bike, hence my comment about being fit enough. I told Andy I was well and truly on the mend, however, but needed to see if I could ride a bike comfortably. I could. Andy was discharged from the care of the hospital and I told him I planned a short ride so we agreed to meet in Tatsfield village at 1000hrs.

It was good to see him again and I was pleased he was still 100% determined to ride to Cornwall next month, although instead of doing it in one day he had decided to ride 150 miles on day one and then around 100 miles on day two. The plan was to spend some time with his sister near Bodmin and then take two days on the return journey home, stopping at  B&Bs on both the outward and return journey.

I was glad that Andy was determined to continue with his Cornwall project. He said the hip bone had completely healed and that he wasn't in any pain. Basically he was as good as new and was looking forward to the ride. A part of me wondered whether it might be a case of 'too much, too soon' but in all honesty, his determination to do it said otherwise and I was pleased that he was in a position to do it.

Andy had started training in his garage a while back, as soon as the hospital said he was on the mend and could put some weight on injured leg At first he couldn't reach the handlebars without a twinge or two so he cycled in an upright position until things improved a little more and then, last Thursday, he received the go-ahead to ride on the road. 

My bike awaits me on The Ridge!

We sat outside Sheree's. Andy got there before me and I guess he ordered a coffee. I ordered a cup of tea and biscuits and we chilled in the late May sunshine discussing Andy's ordeal. I told him how, when I saw him outside the hospital and drove him back home I felt very sorry seeing him in such a state, but he told me that it was the week before when he was in a real bad way. When I met him, the mending process had begun, he told me, explaining how, for the first few weeks he had to sleep downstairs in a chair, but within a very short space of time he was walking without the aid of a zimmer frame and was soon using a stick and was fairly mobile.

Riding wise, I didn't notice any difference between the way he was riding prior to the accident and he agreed: he felt that he hadn't lost a great deal of fitness. We rode back along Approach Road to Clarks Lane and then Andy rode home via The Ridge and I stuck with the 269. The plan was to meet again tomorrow in Westerham, which was great as this meant Andy was back on the road full time, so to speak. I felt proud of him for coming through the whole thing with such dignity and to be so focused on the Cornwall ride. A lot of people (including myself) would have put it on hold and possibly even cancelled the whole thing until next summer, but not Andy.

On Sunday we met at Costa Coffee in Westerham and again Andy was there before me and chatting to one of the customers sitting outside. I ordered a large English breakfast tea and joined him and we continued our chat, discussing stuff like the Lands End to John O'Groats ride, not that either of us were planning to do it, although I suspect, at some stage, that Andy will do it. He was saying how he'd take two weeks to do it (at roughly 15 miles/hour) and would aim to ride around 100 miles per day. I said I'd take three weeks, make it a little easier on myself, be, perhaps, a Mike Carter as opposed to a Mark Beaumont. Back to the Cornwall project and Andy plans to leave Caterham at 0400hrs on 21 June and arrive at his first stop in the early evening, possibly around 1830 to 1900hrs. He plans to consume fitness/energy foods during the ride but will stop for a brief lunch break before pushing on; while it is all about fitness on one level, he said, it's also about the mind and I know what he means. It's about having the determination to ride 100 miles daily from start to finish. Andy said he knew he was going to ride to Cornwall even immediately after his accident, although he was prepared to await the decision of the doctors. While there were a couple of touch and go moments early on, he did get the all-clear.

I needed a comfort break in the woods near Woldingham

Next week Andy rides again with his cycling club and things are slowly getting back to normal, which is good. While my own story is not so dramatic as Andy's, I too had endured a few minor health problems, well, one to be precise: my swollen foot. I too, however, was back on the bike yesterday and today (it's still Sunday as I write this). From my point of view I was having things really good prior to flying to the USA. I was cycling into Oxted on Saturday and Sunday morning, stopping for a much-needed tea or coffee (I'm reverting back to tea now) and then riding back up Titsey Hill (which is no walk in the park). I had gotten into a routine and was feeling kind of good about the riding and then came the trip to the US, the foot problem, which came out of nowhere, and suddenly everything was in disarray. Up until yesterday I hadn't riden the bike for a fortnight and I was feeling not only unfit, but tired and weary. So as things improved during the week and the pain ceased I knew I had to see if I could ride the bike and the great news was that I could and did. This past week has been bad for me, in fact, it's been a bad fortnight dogged by bad flights while in the USA, the jet lag, the foot problem and then the slowish recovery. The pills made me feel a little weary too but now I only have one more to take and I've finished the course, the foot feels better, the swelling has gone down and, as I say, I'm riding the bike again. I'm thinking about using a gym for week-day riding and then riding the bike at the weekends, mix things up a bit, but the aim is to try and lose one stone in weight, which I know is possible, it's just having the willpower to do it. Smaller portions, perhaps, no more cake or biscuits, I should be in the frame for it.

We sat outside of Costa for a fairly long time chatting about Andy's injury and Cornwall and my foot and this and that; it was good to catch up having not really seen a great deal of each other for some time. We're back again next week, which is good, and hopefully the summer will continue apace, I'll manage to lose that one stone in weight and all will be well with the world.

Sometimes I lose the will to live...

Last Sunday we broke with tradition and rode to Tatsfield village instead of Westerham. In the old days, of course, riding to the village would have meant sitting in the cold bus shelter drinking tea from a flask and then riding home again, but now that we're leaving our respective houses later, we get there in time for the opening of Sheree's Tea Room. Last Sunday I was there first and secured a seat by the window. It was all very festive and cosy. I ordered a pot of tea and (foolishly) a millionaire's shortbread. And then Andy arrived. I could have sat there for the whole morning if the truth be known, but as the clock edged around to 1000hrs I knew it was time to head home. Andy and I parted company at The Ridge and I rode the 269, getting home around 1100hrs.

Cosy and festive window at Sheree's Tearooms last Sunday...

Talk about riding five miles daily went out of the window as the new working week began. When I reached home on Monday night I was in no mood to get on the bike and it was the same for Tuesday and Wednesday. I did manage a Washpond Weeble on Thursday and I might well try to get one in today (Friday) but it's looking increasingly unlikely. 

Fake cakes at Sheree's Tearooms...

The weather is getting bad (or so say the TV weather people). If it does get colder then the balaclava will come out, and the scarf. Yesterday (Thursday) I rode the Weeble wearing a heavy jumper and my Parka. It was a good ride. Apparently today (Friday) offers "a really chilly start", not what I wanted to hear, but then I'm not planning on going out this morning. I have the day off so I'll go later on. Andy's not riding on Sunday so I'll have to motivate myself, which isn't a problem. I've been thinking about a ride to Redhill to have breakfast in the Pop Inn, let's see.

I'm beginning to wonder why I left it until later to hit the road. It's raining now and doesn't look as if it'll stop any time soon, so today might be called off. I'm beginning to lose track of my rides. Yesterday was a 12.38-mile ride starting at 1324hrs and ending 73 minutes later. Prior to that I had covered 16.26 miles to and from Tatsfield village on Sunday (on the road for 93 minutes in total) and then, the previous day, I did a longer ride into Westerham via Beddlestead Lane and back up Hesiers Hill (24.26 miles in two hours and 35 minutes). I did a Lunchtime Weeble (12.37 miles) on Friday 19 November and then it was the ride I mentioned in my last post when I gave up queuing and simply rode home from Westerham Costa without my regulation large English breakfast tea. In other words my mileage is seriously slacking.

Losing the will to live

I'm actually finding it difficult not to lose to will to live at the moment. This is largely due to work-related woes, and I feel a little on the edge as a result and constantly thinking how pointless everything appears to be at present. It's all work, work, work and no play. And at night I am reluctant to go to bed because I don't particularly like sleeping any more, ever since that inner ear infection back in October 2017 (28th), the day I decided to give up drinking. I've kept that up, which I'm pleased about, but the end result of the infection is that I cannot sleep on my right hand side, or rather I don't want to in case it all starts up again. Add to that a constantly blocked up ear, which I will get seen to shortly, and the whole idea of resting has become a nightmare. There's nothing worse than not being able to hear what's going on at night. I literally can't wait to wake up and as soon as I do I'm out of bed and downstairs eating breakfast if the clock reads 0500hrs or later. Anything before that and I have to grin and bear it, the only one awake, staring at the ceiling, fretting about something or someone until the hour is respectable enough for me to rise from bed and head downstairs for breakfast. 

Last Sunday's at Sheree's Tearooms

My only true pleasure at the moment comes from visiting a cosy coffee shop with a decent book and my lap top, like I did a few weeks back at a London branch of Caffe Nero. You simply can't beat it. 

To try and stop the edgy feelings and the stress I also look forward to just sitting in front of the television watching something decent (if I can find something). Normally nothing good is broadcast until 2100hrs and at the moment I'm watching the ultimate rubbish in the shape of I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here! which is absolute craperama, and even more so now that Richard Madeley has been removed from camp after being struck down by illness, caused, I believe, by diving head first into a load of rotten vegetables and fish guts, aged 65. They're back in the Welsh castle again this year due to COVID and now, of course, there's talk of another variant (Omicron) emanating from South Africa that can bypass all vaccines. I've been double-jabbed and I'm awaiting the booster, which I don't particularly want. 

Television

Getting back to what I like watching on television to soothe my edgy feelings, stuff like long-running crime dramas (Shetland) or programmes presented by Ben Fogle or even watching Shappi Korsandi (an Iranian comedian) walking alone through the countryside, something that takes me away from everything. Sadly, reality gatecrashes the party at 2200hrs when Huw Edwards appears, sombre look on face, to deliver a whole bunch of bad news to the country, normally something that involves us having to watch pictures of that prat of a Prime Minister Boris Johnson or Priti Patel leaving buildings or giving speeches or addressing the House. At this moment I channel hop, but rarely find anything worth watching, and soon I start to consider the awful reality of the situation: I've got to start thinking about locking up the house and heading upstairs to bed. Perhaps I should just sleep in a different part of the house to mix things up a bit. I keep thinking about bedding down in the conservatory in a sleeping bag for some reason, surrounding myself with pillows. That would make waking up in the middle of the night a bit more exciting. I could lie there with my radio for company, listening, perhaps, to BBC Radio Three or LBC, although the latter would probably make matters worse so let's stick with classical music. I've got a lot on my mind at present and I just wish I could find a desolate cottage on a windswept beach in Shetland or Orkney or the Isle of Harris where I could simply stare at the sea for a few days, that's what I need more than anything else.

Blood pressure

Then, to make matters worse, the doctor sends me some kind of document to download on my iphone (which proves impossible) so that I can send him a blood pressure reading. My blood pressure has always been 'borderline high' meaning not crazy or out of control but worth monitoring. So I have a monitor, which I think causes more stress than anything else. What normally happens is this: I visit the doctor for whatever reason and he takes my blood pressure, it's high, it always is when it's first taken, they call it 'white coat syndrome', and it won't come down a great deal if he presses the button on his machine a few moments later. He asks me to go away and do my own tests, which I do, and invariably the readings are much lower and it's all forgotten about. As a stressful day at work drew to a close last week the message came through and I somehow managed to send him a reading (152/89 - or something of that ilk). There was a note saying that when you first take a reading it will be high so I didn't send him the first two or three, which, according to the document, meant I needed to get myself off to A&E immediately (in itself stress-inducing). And so, the ball was in motion once again. On top of work and not being able to hear properly because my ears are blocked (and don't appear to be unblocking any time soon) all I need is to start fretting about blood pressure. But it's worse this time. My pulse, which, for years has been a constant 60, has dipped to 59, 55, 53, 51, even 50. Naturally, I make matters worse for myself by checking it out on the Internet. Brachycardia. This might be something to do with the amount of cycling I've been doing over the past 18 months, I don't know, but there it is. Andy says he gets it too and he's thought about visiting the doc, but hasn't yet. At around midnight I call a Bupa nurse (who, of course, is absolutely no help whatsover). I thought about dialling 111, but that would have been a mistake, they'd insist I wend my way to casualty and I would have been there all night... and nothing would have been resolved.

Tudor Rose Tearooms today

I have an appointment with the doc next Friday at 1000hrs and I'm already plotting (working on ways I can reduce my BP). Daily cycling is one thing, although this is also to stop me fretting at night times when I hit the sack and it was something Andy suggested when we met on Saturday (yesterday) at Sheree's Tearooms in Tatsfield Village. "Just a local five-miler, nothing more, don't attempt to start cycling to work as that will cause more stress when you fail to get it together, just five miles, nothing more, nothing less". So I'm going to do it. Incidentally, I weakened and ordered a slice of cake. See, there I go, fretting again.

Right now I'm just a ball of stress. I simply can't relax. I'm always thinking about work or I'm feeling wary about something and it all starts from the moment I open my eyes. Consciousness reminds me about the BP situation, about work and anything else that might cause anxiety, down to little things like "can you put X or Y in the loft?" or "should we put the electric fire back in the garage?" And if I'm sitting down, reading a paper or watching the TV I'm thinking "I wonder if my BP is dangerously high?" It's a continuing onslaught of worry and with the latter it's because I don't want to take blood pressure tablets, I don't want to be one of those people 'on medication'. Last night I had the monitor on all night and most of the readings were borderline high and some very high, but I managed to get one or two below the 140 marker, but nowhere near the optimum reading. I find myself getting conspiratorial about it: the docs just want to make money by getting me to take out a life-long prescription, that's all this is about. Apparently they get paid for every prescription they issue, no wonder there's a load of top-of-the-range Audi sedans in the surgery car park. I view doctors with suspicion like I do almost everybody these days. Very few people have my best interests at heart. And what really annoys me about the BP thing is this: I don't drink, I take regular exercise, I eat relatively well, I make a point of walking to Purley station every morning (well, most mornings) to keep up my steps. My only vice is the odd bit of cake, although I do need to lose about a stone in weight, and that's why I'm going to bust a gut to do that daily 5-miler during the week.

Sunday's ride to Westerham

It's Sunday morning and the sun is shining, but it's not warm outside. Far from it! Time to hit the road and get some exercise, in the shape of a 22 miles plus ride to and from Westerham. I'll probably have a large English Breakfast tea when I get there and then ride home again. The weather was bright and sunny and cold as I headed off in my Parka, heavy jumper, beany hat under helmet, and gloves. I rode the slow way along Beddlestead Lane and then down Clarks Lane, a left on to Pilgrims, turning right at the Velobarn and then riding up the hill to the Costa. There was quite a few cyclists in there and a long queue so, reluctantly, I moved along the green a little to the Tudor Rose Tearooms where I enjoyed a pot of tea and a rock cake, which was absolutely perfect. For a short while I was chilled out, deep in thought, sipping tea and munching on that rock cake. Wonderful. But soon the journey home beckoned and I found myself standing on the green, buttoning up the Parka, putting on the crash helmet and gloves, pressing 'resume' on Strava and then heading off, retracing the inward route. I decided to ride through Woldingham and up Slines Oak Road and then made my way along the Limpsfield Road towards home.