To Oxted....

I hadn't been to Oxted for a while as the hill coming out is always a little daunting but 100% achievable. I've been doing shorter rides, some non-stop, others a little closer to home, like ending up at the Sheep Shed and enjoying a cup of English breakfast tea and an almond croissant.Today I left the house without really thinking about where I was going. I might well have done another non-stop ride via St. Leonard's church and Washpond Lane, a kind of twist on the conventional Weeble involving Beech Farm Road and Botley Hill and it is there, of course, that I have discovered the Sheep Shed, a perfect venue for a hot day.

The Sheep Shed, Botley Hill

The weather has stepped up a little lately with plenty of hot sunny days and weekends, which is great as there's been a lot of rain too, all very depressing. So I'm riding the 269 wondering what to do and I'm thinking I'll just turn at the roundabout at Botley Hill and come straight back, 14 miles, that's good enough, I thought, but Oxted was nagging at me and as I reached the roundabout I thought fuck it and pedalled down Titsey, picking up speed at the bottom and soaring into Oxted whilst considering the coffee shop in Limpsfield (Coffee at Kiwi House). It was, therefore, a last minute decision to turn right and not follow the road round into Limpsfield village. Instead I headed along Granville and into Oxted High Street, the perfect place to be on a sunny Saturday morning.

There's plenty of choice: Starbucks, Costa, Coughlan's, and, of course, Caffe Nero at the top on the left and, as always, I opted for the latter. There's something very pleasant about spending around 30 minutes sitting outside Caffe Nero on a sunny Saturday morning, people watching, and that's just what I did before checking out the charity shop and then riding home.

All the way to the hill I kept thinking of ways out of it. I considered turning right on Pilgrim's Lane and then taking a left a long way down the road and coming back as if I'd been to Westerham. I thought about White Lane, but realised, obviously, that that would be even more difficult and soon the hill was upon me and, as always, I took it in my stride.

I decided later not to turn right on Beech Farm Road as I have been doing of late (to increase the mileage, but mainly to avoid the dangerous bit of the 269 (the last bit before reaching Warlingham). Instead I just pressed ahead and all was well. I took me roughly one hour from Oxted to home

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.

Saturday's ride to Oxted, Surrey...

 Late October, the trees thinning on top but still full of green leaves. There's a smoky sky overhead but the blue is there, veiled by light and wispy cloud.

Outside there are people, some sitting and chatting, others waiting for buses or making their way to the gym or walking dogs. Stores are opening up and many are already open, and inside the coffee shop, music plays.

Soon departing Oxted and heading home.

It's time to get back on the road and head home. After around half an hour - make it 20 minutes (or at most 25) - I have to contemplate the return trip and the big hill (Titsey Hill) that awaits me about two miles up the road. There's no point delaying it any more, it's just got to be done, it's one of the great things about cycling - have to ride back too.

I unpadlocked the bike then headed down the high street and out of town along Granville Road, turning right and then left and cycling along the winding road towards the hill. The weather was wonderful, not at all cold and no sign of rain as I changed down to the low gears for the uphill jaunt. A group of cyclists overtook me and then turned right on to Pilgrims Lane, one of them wishing me good luck as I began my ascent of Titsey Hill. Then I passed some walkers who commented that I would beat them to the top of the hill. I remarked that it's a tough hill, but not as tough as you might think it is, meaning that it levels out, which it does, shortly after passing White Lane.

It's not long before a road sign appears at the top of the hill and I know that the ordeal is over. I ride towards Botley Hill and then straight down the 269 in the higher gears and soon I find myself in Warlingham. I keep away from parked cars because I know that somebody could open their car door and send me flying and I don't want that. Oddly, as I near Warlingham Green somebody does open his door without looking and it's just lucky that I was in the middle of the road. Having left Oxted around 1006hrs, probably a little later, I reached home around 1110hrs and chilled with a green tea. Ride one of two completed, but I still need to address how I'm going to up my riding from just two rides to four. I'm thinking the only real options are either to simply bite the bullet, have the rucksack prepared and the lights charged and just get up and go OR I sign up for the gym and ride the stationary bike three times per week. Once again I was scuppered last week. The plan was to be three rides (Friday, Saturday and Sunday) but as always happens I get bogged down with crap and end up not going, that's what happened Friday. Today (Saturday) was fine and tomorrow (Sunday) will also be fine. Last week I remember heading out with my cape on, knowingly riding into a storm, but I just had to get out there. Next week I need to ride two mid-weekers, one can be Thursday, the other would have to be Tuesday or Wednesday UNLESS I force myself to ignore everyone and just go on Friday, my day off. So, Thursday and then Friday, then Saturday and Sunday (four rides). The only other alternative plan is to ride the Norfolk Nobbler three times a week (roughly a 35-minute ride) which is easy enough and a good mix of hills and downhills. The last trudge up West Hill is always a killer but rain or shine it'll be over in 35 minutes. Perhaps a mix of the two. If I can get up and ride to work, that's the best option, but with the clocks going back, it'll mean night riding for sure so I'll need to get my lights ready. I really can't stand USB-chargeable lights as, for some reason, they never work, and by that I mean everything I've got that is USB-chargeable never charges fully or goes off suddenly and unexpectedly leaving me thinking, 'but I charged that overnight, what the fuck's wrong with it?' I had one of those video doorbells and despite me charging it overnight it NEVER, EVER was fully charged and sometimes was hardly charged at all. That's gone now. All I want is something powered by proper batteries.

The key thing with all of this is motivation. It's drumming up enough enthusiasm to get out there and ride to work. The cape helps, but there's something annoying it: if I wear it, it conceals the rear light and there's no way around that. I could, of course, buy one of those high-viz waterproof cycling tops, that's the best bet. Let's see what transpires. If it all turns to shit, it'll have to be the gym and the stationary bike.

Oxted and Westerham...

Two rides this weekend. Yesterday (Saturday) a 20-mile jaunt to Oxted where I sat in a Caffe Nero drinking green tea and munching on an apricot croissant. Today (Sunday) a ride to Westerham to meet Andy. We sat outside of Costa. Andy had finished his coffee when I arrived. I ordered an English Breakfast tea. My wheel came off. The last time this happened was in the summer at the bottom of Whyteleafe Hill. Andy says it might be something to do with the nut that tightens the wheel. It's only been an issue since I've changed the wheel. I went to Balfe's in Sutton and had a new rear wheel fitted. Since then the wheel has come loose twice, today being the second time. In my entire life, the rear wheel of whatever bike I've owned since the age of 11, has never come loose from the frame. 

Today in Westerham...

Yesterday's ride was pleasant enough. I sat inside the Caffe Nero on the leather sofa by the door, it's a great position. I sat there, people watching mainly, and then went next door (for all of five minutes) to the charity shop. As always there was nothing much there, never is. I rode back up Titsey Hill, which I'm used to now, and then along the 269.

Today I left the house around 0800hrs, virtually on the dot, and rode the usual route to Westerham. That journey was fine also. I'm glad I've managed two rides. The weather is closing in, or it's starting to; and that means just one thing: I need to start thinking about joining a gym and using its stationary bike. It's that or keep a weather eye on (ahem) the weather and motivate myself to get up and leave the house in the dark and ride home in the dark too. Once the clocks go back there will be no alternative. All I need to do is ride twice more during the week, but somehow the cold and the dark will mean I take the train and spend (unwillingly) the £9.40 demanded by Southern Railway. 

A brief mention of last week's ride, which, give or take, was a carbon copy of this week. I decided last week to ride back along Pilgrims Lane and then up Titsey Hill. Remember, I tackle 'the big hill' every Saturday morning when I leave Oxted so I thought I might as well do it on both days. Nothing wrong with a 16% hill on a Saturday and Sunday morning.

I've noticed that as the days get shorter I seem to wake up later. Back in the summer I might be ready to rise around 0500hrs and then leave around 0630hrs, arriving at work around 0740hrs, showering and then starting the day. If I start saying I'll find the motivation, get myself some decent lights and head out in the dark, fine, but I won't. I'll wake later and time will simply run out. So I'm thinking the gym might be the best option: head down there around 1630hrs and set the bike for a one-hour session. I remember doing just that in Stockholm. I'd need to do it two to three times a week and then ride the bike for real at the weekends. Either way I've got to get back into shape. Currently, cakes and cappuccino are coming back and, well, I'm always saying this; ultimately, I've got to get my act together.

Caffe Nero on Saturday

Outside of the riding what else has been going on? Oh, do you know what? I can't be bothered to talk about Liz Truss, I just can't be bothered. She has to go, the Tories have to go and very soon. I'm currently watching Columbo, the second episode in a row. Outside it's getting dark, which ain't bad when you consider that it's 1734hrs. In a couple weeks it'll be dark by now and soon it will be Christmas. 

I went to mum's this afternoon. She keeps falling over in the house and getting bruised in the process. As I was about to leave a male nurse turned up. He checked her over, she was fine, bruised but fine. I worry about her, she's on her own and she seems to have no control over falling over or staying upright. She's fine in herself, she's got all her marbles, but she's forgetful. I tell her something one week, she forgets it by the time I see her the following week. We sat and chatted. I had a cup of tea and a few KitKats, the two-finger bars, so two is the same as having a four-finger bar. That was my excuse. 

I was saying just yesterday that everything seems to have disappeared: friends, family members, family gatherings, they've all gone. It's weird in a way. One minute there were family gatherings, meetings between friends, but now (with a few exceptions) they've all gone. People seem to be getting on with their own lives. The last so-called 'Boxing Day Bash' - the title given to my family's annual Christmas bun fight - was here at my house in December 2019. Since then, of course, there's been the pandemic, that got shot of two Christmas gatherings, and now, with mum soon to be 93, I'm guessing that's the lot. Everyone's doing their own thing. All a bit depressing if you ask me, the ways things change. Once dad died back in May 2011, things changed. Dad drove a lot of the family events and once he passed things quietened down a little, nobody really stepped up to the plate, so to speak. Don't get me wrong, they were never 'noisy' occasions, but the events that existed died off, mum carried on with the Boxing Day event but now it's too much for her, that's why I had the event here at my place in 2019. Whether anybody will do one this year I don't know, but it's unlikely. I guess it's just the way of the world, things change, people change, we all move on.

Westerham last Sunday

The cycling has changed too. No longer the desolate spots in the middle of nowhere, like the Tatsfield Bus Stop, sipping tea from a flask and eating Belvitas. We're no longer slumming it but enjoying the comfort of Costa Coffee on a Sunday. On Saturday I visit Caffe Nero or the new Starbucks further along the high street. We're all fitter, which is good, and long may it continue. I'd better sign off, it looks as if I'll be driving to Wimbledon shortly.

On Pilgrims Lane last weekend and ready to turn right up Titsey Hill

I did drive to Wimbledon but now I'm home having nipped out to M&S at the garage in Gravel Hill. Just eaten pasta, tortelloni with added Parmesan cheese. Very nice. Work tomorrow, but having the Friday off was a good idea as it meant that when I woke up on Saturday thinking it was Sunday I suddenly realised it was Saturday and I still had two days to go before heading to work.

A slow puncture ruins the day...but not for long

The great thing about taking Friday off is that you wake up on Saturday thinking it's Sunday and then you realise it's only Saturday and you feel fantastic knowing there's another day before you have to head back to work. Not that I find going to work a hassle, it's just nice being off and not thinking about it.

On Saturday, later than usual, I headed for Oxted in Surrey, thinking it was Sunday but knowing it was Saturday. I left the house around a quarter to eleven, something like that and it took me roughly 54 minutes to reach my destination: Caffe Nero. I'd cycled along Clarks Lane and turned right into White Lane and then, as I rode down the steep hill I figured I could easily cycle up it, but then decided no, not today and besides, riding to Oxted, sitting in Caffe Nero and sipping a large green tea in the hot sunshine was enough entertainment for me. 

A chilled ride to Oxted on Saturday led me to Caffe Nero and a green tea!

The ride to Oxted was fine but because it was Saturday and not Sunday there was a fair amount of traffic on the 269, which was a little bit unsettling. I considered riding back through Woldingham but in the end didn't bother, even if the 269 was just as tricky on the return ride. It was, of course, later than usual and there was more traffic on the road. 

I reached home around 1pm, had a light lunch (a salad sandwich of all things and a yoghurt (make that two) and not forgetting another green tea. And now, as the huge conifer at the top of our garden casts its long shadow across the lawn (it's almost half past three in the afternoon) I'm considering doing one of the many chores that need to be done around the house. Tomorrow I ride early to Westerham to meet Andy.

To Westerham!

Today, Sunday, I left the house around 0806 and followed the usual route to Westerham, along the 269, which was fine. It took me 55 minutes, a little longer than last week's 52 minutes but hey ho! Andy was there and we chatted about bike stuff covering subjects like the London-Edinburgh-London event, which is happening now. It's around 1,000 miles, 500 each way and it seems like a hard slog. Then we discussed Timmy Mallet who has just finished his mammoth round the UK coastline trip, travelling clockwise (as opposed to Mike Carter's anti-clockwise trip). I think he arrived home yesterday as there's video on Twitter of his emotional arrival back home. Andy said he was a little emotional after his first Ride London and I'd imagine after spending four or five months on the bike, travelling around the coastline of the country, being a free agent, enjoying your own company, meeting some interesting people and generally enjoying the ride, it would be weird coming home, getting used to not being on the bike, getting used to not being that free agent, not arriving in a strange town, living the hotel life, but yes it would be emotional too and for many reasons, one being actually doing it, or having done it. Quite an achievement so I'd imagine there would be plenty of emotions running wild. Mallett was a little tearful when he saw that his family and friends had turned out to welcome him home and I must take my hat off to him for doing the ride and for living the dream (it's certainly my dream and probably, like all of my dreams, destined to be dashed on the rocks of reality sooner or later). When is there ever time to ride a bike around the coast of the UK? Mind you, there are other things to do that might be a little more realistic. There's a guy on Twitter called Will, as in "Will is too honest to be an MP" and he seems to run wild camping-based bike trips. Now that might be fun for a few nights.

Slow puncture!

We eventually decided it was time to head home and all was well until I noticed a slight wobble. I get the feeling I had that same wobble on the ride down, but this time it seemed more pronounced and yes, it was. I had a puncture. I advised Andy to carry on and he did as I slowed to halt and tried to figure out how I was going to play things. The puncture seemed like a slow one, so there were options. I could try pumping it up and seeing if I could get home or I could fix it by the roadside. I pulled up on to the side of the road and thought things through. In the end, I decided to ride back in to Westerham, the plan being another cup of tea and then fix the bike on the green. In the end I didn't buy any tea. I took the wheel off, took out the inner tube, pumped it up and tried to listen for the hiss. There wasn't one. I'd need a sink of water to find this one, I thought, marching in to the Costa and discovering there was no plug in the sink. Fucking nightmare. Now what? I tried putting the inner tube close to my face but there was no breeze, nothing, leading me to the conclusion that I'd have to put the wheel back on the bike, pump it up and see if I could get home before it went down. I reckoned it was a very slow puncture and that I'd likely make it so that's what I did. It proved to be the right thing to do as it wasn't until I reached Church Way that the wobble returned and by the time I was outside of my own garage door I was still in one piece as I rolled the bike back in to the garage and went inside for something to eat, ie a salad sandwich of chopped watercress, tomato, onion and mayo on brown bread followed by some ginger-flavoured yoghurt and a banana smoothie. It was then time to fix the puncture. I turned over the bike in the garage, took off the wheel and removed the inner tube, plunged the latter into a bowl of cold water and lo and behold I found the puncture. Normally I fix punctures with "Leeches" but there don't appear to be any in the bike shops so I settled for 'Scabs' which don't look as if they're as good (only time will tell on that one I guess). It all worked and soon I had the wheel pumped up and back on the bike. All I can do now is wait and see how firm it is in the morning. If it's flat in the morning I'll be taking the train, but let's hope it won't be.

It's hot outside. In fact, the hot weather has been commonplace over the last few weeks and there's been no sign of any rain and no let-up on the heat. Long may it continue is what I say. I'm not one of those people who say a drop of rain will be good for the garden, that's far too Daily Mail for me; I'll leave phrases like that to my mum, but what I do wish is that I could go to the South Coast for a night or two and swim in the sea during the day, it's simply something I must do and soon, spend the day by the sea just chilling. I need to do this but don't really have anybody who feels the same way, which is a big shame. I have this idea of arriving fairly early, let's say 1000hrs. I'd bring the wind break and a cool box full of goodies, possibly a newspaper, definitely a book and a fully-charged radio and then sit there all morning, until about 1230hrs or 1300hrs. A lot depends on the tides. If it's high then a swim straightaway, if the tide is out then just chilling, listening to the radio, munching a sandwich or a Scotch egg, whatever I've brought along, and eventually, probably around 1600hrs start to consider going back to wherever I'm staying. The whole thing would then be repeated the following day and then I'd drive home happy. In many ways it's all I want and I certainly want to do it before the weather turns and everybody starts counting down to Christmas. It's already started: the BBC has announced some of the line-up for this year's Strictly Come Dancing, which is basically a countdown to Christmas. It'll be interesting to see how the greed merchants play it this year as there's a big cost of living crisis brewing and the last thing we'll all need is commercial television trying to tempt us with the thought of a new this or a new that; they can all fuck off. All I want to do is stare at the sea for a couple of days and I'll be happy and unstressed, not that I've been that stressed of late. I'm sleeping well, eating well and feel well, give or take, and I put it all down to cycling to work three days a week, upping my cycling from two to four days per week and tackling some big hills in the process. I'm definitely a little fitter and long may it continue.

Two rides to Oxted and back up Titsey Hill

After my four consecutive 20-miler rides last weekend I'm afraid I didn't ride out again until yesterday (Saturday) meaning my riding was roughly 60 miles this week, thanks to the Easter Bank Holiday and the good weather. Having enjoyed riding to Oxted immensely over recent weeks, even climbing up Titsey was kind of fun, I decided to keep at it. On both occasions this weekend I chose Starbucks as my tea venue even if it is £2.88 for a cuppa, albeit a very large one. Although, oddly, I was a bit miffed at having to pay such a price. A cup of tea? Nearly £3? It was cheaper in the Caffe Nero, but the cup was smaller too, that's why I opted for the Starbucks. Also, the Starbucks was brand new and spacious and for some reason I quite like it. What I might do now that the weather is improving is buy myself a drinks container for £11.99 (Starbucks says it won't leak) meaning I could ride to Oxted with a cup of tea, perhaps bring a tiny drop of milk, and then sit in the park until it's time to ride home. The thing is I quite like being in the coffee shop, ie the Starbucks or the Caffe Nero so buying the container isn't a great idea. We'll see.

Sunday: Tea at Starbucks, £2.88!

Both rides were good, although the weather was certainly a little cooler than the Easter weekend. Not that much cooler, but definitely cooler. On Saturday I sat by the window reading a copy of the Daily Mail that somebody had left behind. I read my stars because, for some reason, even though I don't believe them, I like to think there might be some truth in them, especially if they're full of good news, which they were to a certain extent. I read a bit about Russia, Putin and Ukraine, skipped through some awful stories about children being killed by their parents (in one case a woman addicted to crack cocaine and a young boy with serious asthma problems). Once again, the young child was failed by social workers, which never fails to annoy me. Soon, as always, it was time to head home and the thought of riding up Titsey is no longer daunting. I plan to keep doing it. In fact, the ride to Oxted is good, albeit the 269 is involved, but the earlier I depart, the quieter it is and the return journey is always fine for some reason, although I'm aware that I need to keep a weather eye on motorists as some of them are not at all good and pay very little attention to cyclists. I could (and perhaps should) take The Ridge and ride into Woldingham, far safer it has to be said, but sometimes I like the idea of just getting back home and besides, for some reason, I don't like riding down Slines Oak Road for the top of Woldingham. I don't mind the steep bit at the other end and to be honest I should do my level best to avoid the 269.

Sunday: on the road towards Titsey Hill

The ride up Titsey is almost leisurely. I know that sounds daft when you consider it's a fairly steep and long hill, but once I get going and settle in to it, the ride up is fine and because it's so long and a little monotonous, it's possible to switch off and simply glide up thinking about other things or just losing myself in the scenery. On either side, for instance, there are woods and because the hill means travelling fairly slowly, there's enough time to take them in, enjoy the relative peace and quiet, listen to the birds and generally chill until the sign for Botley Hill appears and I know then that the climb is over. Last week, when I was riding down Titsey on the way to Oxted, actually when I reached the road and everything had levelled out, just before going under the motorway, I saw a massive bird of prey. It was huge, the wingspan must have been around four feet, I don't know, but it was amazing, great to see so early in the morning, and this is what I love about riding a bike into the sticks, which I do all the time. 

Woods on the ride up Titsey Hill

It's important to keep your mind on the road when you're riding down Titsey. It's a 16% drop and the bike can pick up a fair speed, you've got cars going up and down and then you've got White Lane on your left and very often a car suddenly appears and you don't want it pulling out in front of you. I keep my hands slightly pressed on the brakes, slowing the bike down, and it's important to remember that White Lane isn't the only turning on the left that could present problems should a car emerge from it; there's also Pilgrims Lane. Today I worked out that there's an off-road route all the way down on the left hand side of Titsey. I need to check it out. I know about the off-road ride on the right hand side as Andy and I have done it before. Somewhere on this blog there is a photograph of me, taken by Andy, circa 2011 I think, as we reached the end of the off-road track. I think a puddle is involved but my memory is sketchy.

On the downward ride, once the hill is out of the way, the rest of the journey is pretty smooth sailing, particularly after riding under the motorway and entering Limpsfield Village. There's a right turn on a bend into Bluehouse Lane and then a left turn in to Granville, which is a long road, fairly flat, flanked on either side by large houses. At the end there's another left turn and then, with the library on the left, it's a short ride to the high street.

Sunday: Tall trees on Titsey

Both rides this weekend were pretty similar. On Saturday I spent a little time in the charity shop next to the Caffe Nero. You might recall from a previous post that I found a pair of binoculars and a tiny violin in the charity shop. Well, they're both still there, albeit on different shelves. I spent all of three minutes in the store and then resigned myself to the ride back. On Sunday, I parked up the bike outside the Caffe Nero, as I did on Saturday, and then walked down to the Starbucks. The place was busier than yesterday and I momentarily found myself wondering whether to go back to the Caffe Nero, but in the end I stuck with Starbucks and this time sat outside next to a dad and his two kids. Saturday, as you know, I sat by the window reading the Daily Mail. There were five or six Vespa scooters parked up on the other side of the road and eventually the owners emerged from somewhere and rode off up the high street. It sounded like a bunch of petrol lawnmowers and all the riders were old blokes. There was something a little sad and corny about the whole episode, unlike the previous day (Saturday) when I complimented a motorcyclist on his great bike, a 2011 Honda 750 with a V-twin engine. We chatted briefly as I feared his motorcycle knowledge was greater than mine, and then I jumped on my bike and rode off, but not as fast (or as cool) as the guy on the Honda.

On Sunday, half way up the appropriately named Titsey Hill on the ride home, I stumbled across a soft porn magazine that somebody had clearly thrown from a car window. There was a lot of flange and tits aplenty as the pages were magically turned by the wind as I approached. All very surreal. 

I reached home before noon and carried on with my day. 

The iphone SE Third Generation 2022

As avid readers will know, my old iphone XS passed away the week before last, leaving me phoneless. It was great not having a phone, but now I've bought another one, the iphone SE Third Generation 2022, it's red (which means that Apple is giving a percentage of the sale to charity). It goes without saying that I've been faffing around getting the phone working, which it now is, but the key thing is that having a week without a phone has made me think about my future phone usage. I'm going to try not to look at it so often. In fact, I've set up the 'do not disturb' function so that only key people can reach me after 1730hrs during the week. At weekends the phone is totally out of bounds for most people. All I need to do is buy a case for it as the last thing I want is to damage the screen and have to buy another phone. I was going to buy the phone online, but decided to visit the Apple store in Bromley where I found myself down with the all trendy kids.

My new iphone SE Third Generation 2022, it's red!!!

Four rides to Oxted - 80 miles over four consecutive days...

It was looking like another piss poor week on the bike and all my own doing (again). While I got off to a good start last Sunday with a ride to God knows where (I can't remember exactly as I don't have my phone, it's broken, but I think it was Westerham), I then lost the plot on Tuesday and that set in motion the usual crap about riding or not riding. However, the plus point of this week was Easter, which means that Friday wasn't a work day so I rode to Oxted (roughly 20 miles, I think it's something like 19.36 miles). It was absolutely wonderful, it has to be said. Oxted on a warm and sunny morning, hardly any traffic about, the town slowly awaking, and me sitting outside of Caffe Nero with a cappuccino and an almond croissant, earwigging on the conversations of others and taking in a few rays. I realised pretty quickly that life doesn't get much better than this and vowed there and then to ride to Oxted every day of the Easter bank holiday. It meant climbing out of town on Titsey Hill, but that was not impossible. In fact, as the days progressed I got better and better at it and soon realised that it wasn't such a bad hill after all. I know that Andy and I have discussed this before (that Titsey ain't that bad) and it really isn't. The worst bit is early on and probably stretches to around White Lane, but once beyond that the ride beds in, it's not steep, just monotonous, but it's only a drag if you let it become one; I rode up nonchalantly, looking at the trees on either side of the road, listening to the birds singing and soon I found myself at Botley Hill and on the 269 heading for Warlingham and, ultimately, home.

My trips to Oxted can be remembered by what I had to eat (and let's not forget, today is Sunday so if I ride it'll be the third of four rides). So, on Friday (Good Friday) an almond croissant which, incidentally, had nothing on the almond croissants available from the AMT Coffee kiosk on East Croydon station; and then yesterday (a plain old bog standard Saturday) I ordered a cinnamon swirl. The reason I was having pastries was simple: Titsey Hill. Yes, it's not a bad hill - or not as bad as you expect it to be - but it's still a decent work-out and I figured that four consecutive days of such riding would mean I could justify a light snack half way through, which is what I did.

I sat outside of the Caffe Nero, there was little point in staying inside, not when the weather was this good, so I found a table, I'd padlocked the bike close-by and I loved every darn minute. On both occasions a large cappuccino and the aforementioned pastries and then, on the Good Friday visit and yesterday's ride, I nipped into the Sue Ryder charity shop to see what was on offer. Being as Oxted is a fairly well-to-do sort of place, the quality of the goods is pretty high. There was a small violin and a pair of binoculars and I have to admit that I was tempted to buy the latter, mainly because I remember my dad had a pair that he used to bring on holiday with us to the South Coast and watch the ships that sat seemingly motionless on the misty horizon. But I had no way of carrying such a heavy pair of binoculars back on the bike. They came complete with a case, which was even better and I'm guessing they were 10 x 50s but who knows, they might have been more powerful. But then the old reservations started to flood my brain and piss on my parade. You know the sort of thing: "What do you want those for?" "When will you use them for heaven's sake?" "What's the point?" and soon there was no point so I skulked out feeling, it has to be said, a little down in the dumps, but only temporarily. Once back on the bike and sailing along the empty high street in the sun, glad that I hadn't visited the new Starbuck's, mainly because they don't pay their taxes, I felt fine. And soon, as I rode along Granville Road, past all the massive houses and heading in the direction of the daunting Titsey Hill, my mood lightened again and all was well with the world. 

Today, Easter Sunday, my attitude towards Oxted's new Starbucks weakened. As I peered into the airy space inside, the brand spanking new wooden furniture and fittings and the fact that I was, at that moment, the only customer, I decided to order an English breakfast tea and an almond croissant. I sat outside and watched the occasional person walk up or down the high street. The sun shone down, there was very little in the way of sounds bar the purr of a coasting car or the sound of buildings (if there is such a thing). And all the while the nagging thought of the ride home was very real. Titsey Hill for the third time in as many days. If I ride here tomorrow, I was thinking, that's 80 miles since Good Friday - four days, 80 miles, not bad going. In an odd way, I was looking forward to the ride home, and yes, even Titsey Hill, it didn't bother me, I knew the deal, I was aware that any pain (there was no pain) was short-lived, there was a touch of monotony but not for long and soon there would be Botley Hill and the 269. I headed off down main street (as they'd call it in the USA), turned left, past the Library and then right into Granville Road. The weather was roughly the same as yesterday and as I rode along I felt good about life, it must have been the fresh air and the scented hedgerows, there was optimism in the air and is was brought about by the thought of another day off, Bank Holiday Monday, and the possibility of another ride to make up that magical 80 miles. I caught a weather forecast on the television and there was talk of overnight rain, occasional showers here and there, which might mean wet furniture and that would mean sitting indoors, but I was having new thoughts and they were all focused on the new Starbucks with its airy, woody interior. I know that there's free wifi and that means one thing: I can take my lap top, I can take a decent book and spend an inordinate amount of time chilling there, blogging, writing, reading, sipping tea and taking life easy. I can take the train from Sanderstead, it's only around 15 minutes, and then a short walk down the high street. I could hang there until lunch time and then get the train home again. A lot of the time it's remembering to do it; I'll be sitting at home wondering what to do when there's nobody else around and then I'll think a-ha! I could go to that Starbucks, take my lap top, take my book and just sit there all morning. My time will come, that much I do know.

Today, the distant sound of Easter church bells rang out as I started my ride up Titsey Hill. The ascent was fine and soon I reached the top and then rode along the 269. Soon I was heading along the Limpsfield Road towards home. And now, here I sit at almost 1800hrs, not really feeling hungry thanks to Lindor chocolate eggs and a large roast chicken dinner round at the mother-in-law's house. From where I am sitting now I can see another Lindor egg perched up high on the ledge of our brass mirror. It's not mine and I'm not in anyway interested in it because I know what it's about: there's an egg and there's a box of smaller wrapped eggs inside, all very nice, but I won't be going near it. Columbo's on! "I'll be the son of a gun! Where did you find that? I've been looking all over for it," says Columbo from inside a locksmith's shop. Can I be bothered to watch it? No, not really, so I'll sign off now, but I'm not planning on posting until I know whether or not tomorrow's ride takes place. I'm sure it will. Incidentally, I did watch Columbo as it starred Jack Cassidy (David's dad) and then I watched another one about a painter with three women attending to his every need.

My phone is fucked

It's now Monday, Easter Monday, and the sun is shining just like it was yesterday morning and every morning since Good Friday. I'm planning a ride to Oxted again, but there's around 45 minutes before I hit the road. I thought I'd let you know that I don't have a mobile phone at the present time. On Thursday I awoke to a frozen phone and ended up taking it to an Apple shop in Wallington where I was told I needed a new screen and that it would cost me £266, presenting me with a dilemma: do I fix it or buy a new phone, ie get into a contract (36 months at over twice what I'm paying now) or do I pay the money, get it fixed and continue with with £13/month SIM-only deal? What would you do?

It took me a day or two, but it's quite pleasant not having a phone. Yes, I'm out of touch, yes, nobody can reach me, yes, I can't reach anybody either, but there's something fairly liberating about it. I can't use Strava either, which means I can't see at a glance how many miles I've been riding. This is good and bad. Good in the sense that it doesn't really matter and bad in the sense that perhaps it does matter. Taking the former, not having Strava simply means going for a ride and not totting up the mileage and feeling either under or overwhelmed by the knowledge. Furthermore, I know it's roughly 20 miles to Oxted, it's 21-22 miles to Westerham, similarly Biggin Hill, I know that a ride to Tatsfield is roughly 16 miles and that a short ride to Botley Hill no more than 14 miles (or thereabouts) so who needs Strava? Conversely, it's nice to know the mileage, the elevation, the riding time, and it's good to record the ride, to be able to scroll back at past rides and so forth, not that I've ever done that. I suppose what I'm saying is I'm not too bothered about it. Likewise I don't have access to my work emails and why should I? They don't provide me with a phone, although, to be fair to them, they do pay my phone bill if I use it on company business. That said, it's nice to be on a train and not feel the temptation to play with my phone, but then on the other hand I can't take photographs, can't use WhatsApp and can't check out my blogs when I have nothing else to do. Crucially, though, I don't feel like a fish out of water without it. It's amazing how quickly one adapts to stuff like this and I often wish I had the nerve to do it, not have a phone, be out of touch. But the problems kick in when you're meeting somebody somewhere or you're running late or, worse still, you've had to cancel the meeting for some reason: without a phone it means leaving somebody stranded and wondering whether you're coming or not. So, in the round, it's probably best having a phone, which then begs the question of whether it needs such sophistication. Do I need a camera? Do I need any of the apps? Or do I just need a phone that somebody can call me on or I can call them? Ultimately, that's all I need. Or is it? I am a bit of a gadget freak (to an extent) and there's not much to get excited about with a Nokia 3310 is there? Besides, where would this blog be without photographs? I'd have to carry around a digital camera like I used to in the old days. Not that there's anything wrong with that, at least the image quality would be better.

Today I left the house around 0830hrs and followed the usual route into Oxted, arriving around an hour later. I seriously thought about not visiting the Starbucks and instead going back to Caffe Nero (decisions, decisions) but for some reason I found myself in Starbucks ordering a large English breakfast tea and an almond croissant, which was far, far better than the one I had in Caffe Nero on Good Friday. It was also much better than the almond croissant in Starbucks yesterday; perhaps they were fresher today for some reason. In terms of bakes, the sequence was as follows: almond croissant, cinnamon swirl, almond croissant, almond croissant, so thank the Lord for Titsey Hill is all I can say. I sat outside enjoying the sunshine and the peace and quiet of Oxted High Street early in the morning. The whole attraction of riding here was the peace, the laid back 'easy like Sunday morning' vibe, the odd person milling around, the occasional car purring along and me just sitting there sipping tea and thinking about nothing in particular. Eventually, of course, I had to ride back, and that meant preparing myself for the ride up Titsey, not that it required much preparation, it was, after all, just a case of doing it. Remember, I'd been doing it successfully over the past three days so I wasn't anticipating any problems today. Sure enough it all went well, just me, the bike and the chirping birds in the trees all the way to the top. I sailed along the 269 and then the Limpsfield Road and soon I was approaching home. I followed the usual route and then chilled in the garden drinking tea.

Cycling-wise, I redeemed myself. From Good Friday to Bank Holiday Monday I rode 4 x 20 miles to Oxted and back, via Titsey Hill, that's 80 miles in total. Last week I managed just under 70 miles, something like 68 miles, which is also good.

Andy in hospital with a broken hip...

Andy has come off his bike and is in hospital with a broken hip. Black ice is to blame. He needs an operation and for all I know he's had it or is having it as I write this at nearly 1900hrs. We didn't meet in Westerham as usual on Sunday because Andy was marshalling for a bike race. I can only assume that he came off on his way to the marshalling point, but I don't know.

Saturday's ride to the Pop Inn, Redhill

On a text, Andy later told me he was being kept in hospital. It's now Tuesday night. I first heard of the accident on Sunday. I'm assuming he's still there, but I know that sooner or later he'll be out of hospital. He told me he'd need a lift, which is fine, but I don't know which hospital he's in. Not that it matters. Wherever it is, I'll be there if he needs a lift. I'm just awaiting the call.

Where cycling is concerned, I'm 'back in the room' so to speak. I rode to Westerham last Sunday and then I rode the Weeble on Thursday, did a double Nobbler on Friday, a ride to Redhill on Saturday and today I sent to Oxted where I sat outside sipping a cappuccino under a blue sky and sunshine. The weather was the same yesterday when I rode to Redhill and sat outside of the Pop Inn Cafe on the A23. It was a tough ride back, coming up White Hill Lane and also Tithepit Shaw Lane, but I took it in my stride and covered 24 miles. Today's ride to Oxted meant a ride up Titsey Hill, which is a long, slow, steep hill all the way to Botley Hill, but I managed it, covering roughly 19.23 miles. So, in total, without actually counting the mileage on Strava, I rode 70 miles, not bad! 

Breakfast at the Pop Inn, Redhill

I've been very slack of late so I'm glad that I'm back in the game. For a while I was getting worried that I'd lost the momentum, but clearly I haven't. I've just got to keep it up. I'm back at work tomorrow so I might be riding the Nobbler Monday to Wednesday and then a couple of Weebles on Thursday and Friday, followed by a ride to Westerham (or possibly Redhill again) on Saturday. What, roughly, would that add up to? Well, it's something like 80-plus miles, which (based on recent cycling activity) would be a result.

The weather's getting better too. As I mentioned above, we've had sunshine all weekend and I've been sitting outside eating fried eggs on toast (Saturday) and a cappuccino (Sunday morning). It's getting lighter in the mornings and in the evening too and I just hope that Andy recovers soon and can get back on the bike.

Both days were good and it was excellent just chilling, first on Saturday with the aforementioned two fried eggs on toast in the Pop Inn (actually, I found that I had three fried eggs, but I only paid for two. They were both served on toast along with a mug of tea. It would have been good had I sat there for just a little bit longer, but that nagging feeling about having to ride home was always present and eventually I paid up and left after taking a couple of photos. The ride back was fine until I reached White Hill Lane. I was going to try an altnerative route that avoided the hill, but in the end I decided to go for it and soon I found myself reaching the summit.

Caffe Nero in Oxted on Sunday

On Sunday, it was wonderful sitting outside the Caffe Nero. The skies were blue, the sun was out and I sat there with a decaff cappuccino, it was amazing. Again, I didn't want to go, but I had to, and this time I had to climb Titsey hill. I hadn't experienced a major climb for a long while, but it wasn't a problem and soon I found myself at Botley Hill and sailing down the 269.

It's still Tuesday night and the weather changed today, it's been raining. Horrible, drizzly rain. I haven't been out on the bike since Sunday morning, so that's two missed days. Not to worry. Last week I did well. Seventy miles. I need to add it up on Strava. If I can repeat last week I'll be happy and I will if the weather lets up.

Today I bought myself a lock for the bike. I've had a U-lock for many years, but the lock has frozen for some reason so I thought I'd buy something a litle easier (and lighter). I bought it from Robert Dyas in Redhill, a great shop.

Lockdown, Part 26: Cyclogeography

Shamed by not riding out yesterday, and mildly hassled by the mundane chores of a Saturday morning, I abandoned my attempt to meet Andy at 1100hrs at the Tatsfield Churchyard. Looking at mileage I figured it would be good to go out earlier and get something like Westerham under the belt before other things, like shopping, got in the way. I set off around 0915hrs with the northern Kent market town on my mind, but as I rode along I considered a shorter ride, working out in my head what I'd need to for the rest of the week to keep my mileage respectable. In the end I pushed ahead with the idea of heading for Westerham.

I rode the normal route through the leafy suburbs of Church Way, a considerable hill, across the fairly busy Addington Road and through the churchyard and into Onslow Gardens, a road consisting of fairly large detached houses. I took a right into Blenheim Gardens, hung a right on to Cranleigh Gardens (with my favourite curry house of old on the left hand corner) and then left on to the Limpsfield Road, the B269 no less, which, ultimately, would take me to Edenbridge.

The ride along the Limpsfield Road is pretty standard fayre for me; it's a busy road flanked to the left and right by a variety of different housing types, but mostly a mix of terraced properties and semi-detached all the way to Hamsey and then Warlingham Green where a small war memorial forms the centre piece of the green itself and is surrounded by a mix of old Victorian terraced houses and shops (a newsagent, Co-op, Nisa Today and India Dining (a restaurant) stand out).

Beyond the green I pass an Esso 24-hour garage on my right and Warlingham's village hall on the left, there's Chez Vous, which used to be Villa Sonia, a hotel and restaurant, and then a row of terraced Victorian properties on the left and a mixture of housing on the right, including a large detached house that looks out of place on the main road. More modern housing can be found further along the road, some detached and semi-detached bungalows, some recently built blocks of flats and and then the huge car park of Warlingham Sainsbury's where people queue, for social distancing purposes, prior to shopping.

On the A25 close to Oxted

Beyond Sainsbury's a roundabout offers up a choice of routes: the quieter country lanes to the left and the continuation of the B269 straight ahead. I decide to take the latter route and once past Knights Garden Centre the road offers fields and woods on either side, a small pond at the top of Slines Oak Road and a few houses dotted here and there in woods on the right. Most of this section of the 269 is flanked by fields with an occasional farm house set back from the road.

The Botley Hill Farmhouse pub on the right offers a huge car park and is set back from the road. It used to be a teashop in days gone by, but I've always known it as a pub, although it has undergone a change of management recently. Passing the pub I head for the mini-roundabout and turn left on to Clarks Lane heading east towards the Tatsfield Bus Stop and then the churchyard, both on the left. The covered bus stop, where Andy and I often stopped for tea pre-lockdown is made of wood and provides much-needed shelter from the rain and snow when the weather gets rough. It is located at the top of Approach Road on the left of Clarks Lane. Approach Road heads into Tatsfield village where there is a shop, a restaurant and a pub and a small pond. Not much seems to go on there.

The bike picks up speed as it heads down hill towards the churchyard. There are fields on either side, but those on the right eventually lead to the M25, which can be heard purring in the distance. The road winds it way downwards, past the entrance to the Park Wood Golf Club on the left and eventually past a sign for Kent, the so-called Garden of England. This stretch of road is fast and enjoyable and soon, after going under the M25, I arrive in Westerham, but I decide not to stop. Instead, I turn right on to the A25 and ride west to Oxted, the plan being to ride up Titsey Hill and rejoin the 269 at Botley Hill. 

Riding from east to west I have a strong headwind to contend with and it slows me down considerably as I weave my way through the outskirts of Westerham and on to a route without cycle lanes. There is, however, plenty of visibility as there are fields on either side of me and an open road ahead. The Grasshopper pub, a huge mock tudor building on the right, is under some kind of refurbishment, either flats or a budget hotel. I figure on the latter as I pass the structural steel frame that will eventually be joined to the main building, which I'm guessing they can't knock down because it's of historical interest. I remember having Sunday lunch there on many occasions. It was a carvery and it always reminds me of my father-in-law, a man who had a calming influence on me and everybody he met.

At the top of Titsey Hill near Botley

The A25 has some big houses on its left side, heading west, concealed from sight by trees and bushes and protected by huge gates. Names like Wildwood and Hatchetts and with sweeping driveways, these are the homes of wealthy people who clearly want nothing to do with the outside world. There are keypads on gateposts and little chance of glimpsing the main properties. Soon I find myself in Limpsfield, one of those places that seemingly doesn't exist as there are no houses to be seen, not for a short while at any rate, but then, suddenly, civilisation reasserts itself as I approach the outskirts of Oxted. I've gone from Surrey into Kent and back into Surrey again and now I turn right into Snatts Road and down into Oxted High Street, which is quiet and traffic-free. At the Deep Blue fish & chip restaurant to my left, where I remember visiting just prior to lockdown, I turn right. There's a bank on the corner, a Nat West I think, and further up the road on the right is Oxted Library. I'm looking for Glanville Road on the right, which will take me towards the Titsey Estate and the climb towards Botley Hill.

Glanville Road is characterised by large houses, not as large as those I found along the A25 (Wildwood and Hatchetts spring to mind) but big places worth, probably, at the time of writing, around the £900,000 to £1.2 million mark, possibly a lot more. In Glanville, the houses are a mix of ages, I'm guessing: some sixties and seventies, but others earlier. Towards the end of the road the price dips, the houses become semi-detached and terraced and then I turn right and left and head towards Titsey Hill, a 16% incline that can be an ordeal. I crank the bike down into the low gears, psyche myself up for the climb and then get on with it. All the way up there is nothing but trees on either side of the road and it seems to go on forever. I make at least three or four turns and still can't see any sign of civilisation, or an end to the climb, but soon a road sign announces the roundabout at Botley Hill and I'm back on familiar ground, the B269 heading north this time and flanked by fields and farmland on either side. I pass the pub on my left this time and at one point I have a tremendous view of the whole of London. I can see Canary Wharf and then, what seems about a foot away, the Shard and the City of London, it's easily 20 to 25 miles away, maybe more, or perhaps less, let's settle for 20 miles.

I pass Beech Farm Road on my right and then Ledgers Lane also on my right, then the pond at the top of Slines Oak Road on the left and Knights Garden Centre further along on the right. Sainsbury's is coming up and then I'm heading towards Warlingham Green beyond which lies Hamsey and then Sanderstead High Street. I cut across the 269 and into Cranleigh Gardens, take a left into Blenheim, a left on to Onslow Gardens and back through the churchyard towards the busy Addington Road. I cross it and roll down Church Way, which has parked cars on both sides of the road, and then I turn left on to Morley, right on to Elmfield Way, left into Southcote, right to Ellenbridge and right on to Barnfield. Nearly home.

In total I rode 37.27km, that's roughly 23 miles. I was in the saddle for two hours and five minutes and averaged 17.8km/hour. On the ride there was an elevation gain of 475 metres.

I feel more than compensated for not going out yesterday as I've now riden 39 miles this week, so far.

Limpsfield Village via the Titsey Estate...and then up Titsey Hill

The tunnel under the M25, but would you sleep rough here?

Another 7am meeting on Warlingham Green and this time the gloves were off, literally! I know. I hate using that word 'literally' too. But they were off. I didn't need them. It wasn't cold. The weather was pleasant, the blossoms were on the trees – as they have been for a few days now – and, of course, we're in May. It seems like yesterday when it was snowing and the weather was cold and frosty, but now, we're through the turbulent airspace of poor weather and we're looking down from up high on past misery.

Should we even be here?

Andy suggested the Titsey ride and it was good to be doing it again. The last time was February 2012. I'll always remember it because there were deep puddles and mud and, like today, we sat in the churchyard sipping tea. The last time we were here was when I injured my foot – through walking too far in the wrong kind of shoes. I remember being convinced (wrongly) that I'd been wearing wrong-sized shoes. I hadn't been, but back then I thought so and it just so happened that a size eight shoe, a wide-fitting pair of shoes, fit me perfectly. I'm not a size eight. I'm a size ten. Size 44. I'm wearing a pair now, as I write this post. In fact, the shoes I'm wearing now are the shoes I was wearing a year ago when I was walking around Crawley in West Sussex. It wasn't the shoe size. It was the fact that I was wearing 'office style' shoes on long walks. I should have been wearing trainers or walking boots.

Another day, another churchyard – this one in Limpsfield.

Anyway, that was over a year ago. The ride towards Botley Hill was fantastic; I love it when the steepish incline is over and done with and the view opens up a little as we head towards the pub, fields on either side of us and, at such an early hour, little in the way of traffic – just the odd airliner in the distance landing at Gatwick Airport. Just past Botley, we headed towards the Titsey Estate gate, which was open, and headed on downhill, and off-road. We stopped halfway to take a photo of my bike next to a 'no cycling' sign, but, as Andy pointed out, the sign was for the routes to our left and right, not the rocky trail we were already riding on. 

We cycled all the way down and there were woods on either side of us; and then, through a farm gate and on towards a short tunnel under the M25 where we stopped again to take more photographs. For some reason, I always have this strange desire to camp, to sleep rough, and I was looking at the tunnel and thinking: no, not a good place to camp the night (if we had to). Andy said it wouldn't be good if there was a wind howling through it. I said it was too exposed and by that I meant that it was a route others might take and, therefore, not safe. Far better, to camp in the undergrowth, out of sight. Why do I think up all this rubbish? There's no way that I'm going to camp in the woods, no situation that might arise where I might find myself in a position where the decision to sleep rough would have to be made and, of course, no reason in hell why I would ever set off with a tent on my back.

The Kona in the Limpsfield churchyard. Pic by Andy.

We carried on to the end of the track, emerging on the road and crossing it to where another track would lead us towards Limpsfield, past some rather grandioise houses and out into a quiet and deserted 'high street', if you can call it that. It consisted of a Post Office and a few other shops, including a fancy dress outfitter, all of which were closed. There's a nice restaurant, a pub and a bookshop, but it was too early for any of them to be open and besides, it was Sunday.

We rode towards the A25 and then turned back and headed for the churchyard where we found a bench and sat drinking tea and munching cereal bars. It's amazing how things change in life. When I was a kid I was frightened of graveyards, but today I find them peaceful places where nothing but birdsong disturbs the tranquility. We sat there contemplating nothing in particular. And then I started again – thinking to myself this time – about sleeping rough and whether I'd be happy sleeping in a graveyard without spooking myself. The answer was yes, of course. Remember, the living are scarier than the dead – as somebody once said.

I used to know someone who slept in a churchyard in Sutton, Surrey, and the only reason he slept there, with a few others – down-and-outs like churchyards – was because a friend of his (and mine) had died in the flat they shared and the whole thing had spooked him a bit. But why, I remember thinking at the time when I heard he was sleeping rough in a graveyard, why sleep surrounded by dead people? Surely that would be even spookier for somebody who had witnessed the death of his flatmate. Graveyards are, by definition, full of dead people and choc-a-bloc with reminders of death – headstones, epitaphs, wreaths and flowers.

For me, though, the churchyard in Limpsfield – and the Tatsfield Churchyard – are nothing but havens of peace, places of contemplation and somewhere to recharge the battery before riding home. Alright, perhaps a reminder of one's own mortality, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

We headed home and faced Titsey Hill, a 16% incline leading to the top of the Titsey Estate and that dreary old car park with muddy puddles near Botley Hill that I mentioned a few posts back. It took about 15 minutes of hard graft in a low gear to reach the top. The key was not to look ahead but to 'knuckle down' and keep pedalling until we reached the top. Eventually we got there.

One thing I love about meeting at 7am is that it's still relatively early when we hit the home straight. Andy and I parted company half way along the 269 and vowed to meet again tomorrow – Bank Holiday Monday. I carried on along the road, feeling quite energised as I reached Warlingham Green and headed towards Hamsey and then Sanderstead High Street. It was only 9.45am when I looked up at the church clock and headed down Church Way. I sailed down the hill, with no hands on the bars, and then put them on smartly as the T-junction with Morley Road approached. I hung a left into Morley, a right into Elmfield, a left into Southcote and a right into Ellenbridge. 

One of many sculptures to be found in Pashley Gardens, Ticehurst.

A hearty breakfast followed: porridge, bread and marmalade, a boiled egg and fingers plus a cup of tea. Lovely. Then we headed out in the car with the mother-in-law, to a very pleasant place called Pashley Gardens in Ticehurst in Sussex. 

I loved the gift shop and the gardens and, of course, the sculptures that were dotted around the grounds. 

We had a picnic of sandwiches and samosas, prepared by the mother-in-law. All in all, a perfect day.