To Westerham! And a visit to the Tudor Rose café...

Why have I got a wet arse? It's a question I asked myself when we reached Westerham and was standing outside the Tudor Rose café. The roads were wet, there were big puddles lining the 269 on the ride down and it had definitely been raining overnight so I put it down to that and then we bowled into the caff and ordered breakfast: Sausage sandwich for Andy and scrambled egg on toast for yours truly, plus a pot of tea. The last time we did this was 2019, at the Costa Coffee just up the road. On that occasion we sat outside, but today we took a seat inside and enjoyed the ambience of the whole thing. We could have had cake but opted for a proper breakfast instead.

Saturday morning at the Tudor Rose café

Why have I got a wet arse? That was the question. And while I blamed the wet weather, the puddles and the dampness, the reality was a little depressing. In a nutshell, two of those thermal mug thingys full of water in my rucksack had started leaking and the resulting dampness soaked through the rucksack and on to my backside. How annoying is that? Anyway, I thought I'd mention it.

The ride was good, there and back. In fact, on the way back I felt energised enough not to even worry or whinge about the hill. Normally, it pisses me off having to ride back up the hill towards Botley, but not today because I'd eaten that scrambled egg on toast and enjoyed a cup or two of tea; add to that the light-hearted conversation with Andy and you have the perfect recipe for feeling good.

Oh, and we ought to discuss the weather. Apparently there's a storm brewing and it's going to hit later today. It's going to be really bad news apparently, lots of rain, lots of wind, the usual stuff, and it might mean we don't ride out tomorrow. Well, look, if it rains I'm not going out, but if it's just a bit of windy weather, well, I can handle that and we can ride 'the slow way' to the bus stop. Here's hoping.

I suggested we pay more visits to the caff and we will.

The Tudor Rose is closed, there's no tea for Sunday's ride...

First, when we arrived in Westerham fully expecting to eat a massive breakfast, we found one of the Tudor Rose waitresses sitting on the green. She'd only got up because she heard me exclaiming that the restaurant was closed. It's not normally closed, but the door was locked, the lights were off, the tables had chairs resting on top of them. Why wasn't it open? According to the waitress, the only person with a key hadn't turned up. She didn't seem to know why. "It doesn't matter," I said, but it did matter. Andy and I rarely have breakfast in Westerham and we'd decided that today we would do just that: ride to Westerham and eat a hearty breakfast. But it was not to be. We skulked off. The Italian caff was also closed, leaving us with one option: the Costa Coffee. We don't like Costa because it charges a fortune for not very much, like all coffee chains. In fact, we rarely ride into Oxted because we know we'll end up paying the best part of a tenner for a cup of tea. But now there was no alternative. We found a table outside and I went in and ordered. "Two teas and, er... two Bakewell tarts," said I. "That'll be £50,000," said the woman behind the counter. Actually, she said "That'll be £8.80," and I placed my debit card on the machine until it beeped. Then there was that monotonous wait while another person pieced the order together: the cups, the saucers, filling the two small white teapots with water, adding the teabags and then retrieving the Bakewell tarts from the counter display. I nearly dropped the lot, thanks to a pillar behind me that I hadn't noticed, but all was well and soon I was outside, placing the tray of goodies on the table and taking a seat.

Tea and Bakewell tarts, Costa, Westerham

The waitress from the Tudor Rose was back on the green waiting for the person to arrive with the key, but every now and then she'd get up and come back towards the Costa, go inside and then reappear again. We continued to eat our tarts and sip our teas and very pleasant it was too, until it was time to go, that is. Around 0845 we headed off up the hill and it was pretty painless. We parted at the Ridge and I rode the length of the 269 without resorting to the off-road path. I was home around 0945 and then drove off into deepest Sussex for the day. It had been a great ride and good weather too.

Our bikes outside Costa, Westerham

Sunday the weather was poor. It was spitting rain and then the spits turned to drizzly rain, but it was fairly warm out so it didn't matter. We were both running later. Earlier, Andy had texted me saying just that, he was running later. I texted back. "So am I, can't find the top to the flask." And I never did find it and eventually resorted to the fact that there would be no tea. We both arrived at the green at 0745hrs and decided to head for the bus stop the slow way. "It won't be the same without tea," I said. "It's more than just tea," said Andy and we rode off along the Limpsfield Road.

Warlingham Green on Saturday morning. Pic by Andy Smith

As the rain drizzled down we talked about the recent Purley stabbings and I said that I remembered when I was a kid, everybody had knives, pen knives or even flick knives, but there was never any knife-related violence. Beddlestead Lane is mentally and physically challenging, but today it was fine and soon we found ourselves on Clarks Lane and making the left turn towards the bus stop. When we got there we knew there was no tea to drink. I broke my 'no biscuits' rule and ate two of Andy's Belvitas and then we looked at the long grass in front of us. "We can't even flick our tea bags," I said.

A mug but no tea at the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Pic: Andy Smith

With no tea to drink - we normally have two cups each - we cut our stay at the bus stop short and headed for home, Andy parting at the Ridge and me heading down the 269. Again, I didn't opt for the off-road path and reached home at 0920hrs.

Saturday's ride was great, but Sunday's was marred by the rain and the lack of tea, but all-in-all, both rides were alright and we managed almost 40 miles of riding.

On the news front, it's being reported that Donald Trump pulled out of the Iran nuclear deal purely to spite Barack Obama. Serena Williams lost the Wimbledon final and there's more fall-out from the Kim Darroch affair involving press freedom.

To Westerham for breakfast – and then a weekend of painting

Warlingham Green around 0730hrs on Saturday

Wednesday, 31 October: On Sunday morning I walked across Warlingham Green in the cold. There was wind and rain and it was very unpleasant. I felt thankful that I aborted as I knew a soaking was on the cards. I was headed for the Co-op as I'd run out of milk. I was home alone and had been since last Thursday, although, as I write this, the wanderers have returned and normal living has been resumed. I don't like being alone. It's fine in a hotel room, when I'm away on business, because I'm sharing the hotel with many other people, but being alone in the house simply doesn't feel right. When I'm alone in the house, I don't like going to bed, but I know I have to so I lock up the house in the normal manner, switching off lights as I do so, and then make my way upstairs where I have a choice of three beds. It's a no-brainer: my bed is the best, so I climb in, switch on Radio Four, listen to the 10 o'clock news and fall asleep, waking later in the night and noting the radio has switched itself off. I always leave the bathroom light on, mainly because, since childhood, I prefer to have a light on at night.

The weather is cold and while there's nothing wrong with our central heating, something is definitely up: one of the four nights I was alone I went downstairs to check it out and found it was off, so I switched it back on and returned to bed. On another night I slept almost fully-clothed, even with the heating on, it was freezing.

The reason I was trudging across the green around 0800hrs, possibly a bit later, was that I had aborted the ride late on Saturday night. The reason was simple: I'd committed myself to decorating the living room, a job that needed doing. I'd started around lunch time on Saturday having visited B&Q and buying the paint and brushes and white spirit. I sanded and washed the paintwork and then made the decision to go straight for the ceiling, a job I was dreading.

From Saturday through Monday I listened virtually non-stop to Radio Four, listening to a dramatisation of DH Lawrence's Women in Love and a spoof of The Archers, The Wainwrights, which was one of the funniest things I've listened to in a long while. Mix in Woman's Hour and a few comedy shows, including Just a Minute, and you'll get a fair idea of my extended weekend.

Andy at the Tudor Rose, note pot of tea...

A ride had been on the cards. Having spent a week in Tokyo, I had missed two weekends of cycling, so I vowed to go out on Saturday. With nothing much to rush home for I suggested breakfast at the Tudor Rose in Westerham so Andy and I got our heads down and rode there. A sausage sandwich, scrambled egg with mushrooms on granary toast and a pot of tea was most welcomed. The ride had been good, although I did lose half of my chain guard. It just snapped and fell off. Now I need a new chain guard and some touch-up paint for the frame.

The breakfast was good, it always is, but the ride home loomed large and neither of us wanted it. Riding out of Westerham is hard. It's a long hill all the way to Botley and we hate it. Who wouldn't? But when we reached the top, Andy took The Ridge home and I cycled along the off-road path of the 269.

It's weird arriving home to an empty house, but on this occasion it wasn't just returning to an empty house, it was also the prospect of decorating the living room that was nagging at me. Let's be honest, I didn't have to do it, but I'd been thinking about doing it for weeks, it seemed so straightforward. However, the prospect of doing nothing was shouting at me too. I could have a lazy weekend, go and see mum, then, perhaps, a stroll to Sutton, a browse of Waterstone's and then a mint tea and a cake in Caffé Nero. And who know's what after that? But the decorating nagged and nagged so, after visiting mum, I headed for B&Q in Sutton and bought all the stuff I needed: a huge tub of brilliant white Matt emulsion, two large tins of 'Timeless' – a colour that looks very much like brilliant white, but isn't – a few brushes, white spirit, sandpaper and a roller.

Scrambled egg, mushrooms and granary toast at the Tudor Rose, Westerham

Even when I got home I didn't want to do it, but I pushed myself and by the close of play on Saturday, I'd sanded and washed the skirting board. On Sunday, the prospect of painting the ceiling hit me hard, but I did it and then, on Monday, it was time to paint the walls. My aim was to finish by Monday evening, but I was about a wall and a third out and had to take Tuesday off to complete the task. It looks good, if I say so myself and now, of course, I have caught the bug. I'm viewing rooms as flights: the bathroom is a short haul flight to Dusseldorf, while the living room was most certainly long haul, like my recent trip to Tokyo. The hall way is probably akin to a flight to Greece or Moscow, not quite a long haul, but borderline. Anyway, it looks like the hall is next, but I'd rather do it alone, meaning I'd rather not have others in the house, it's far easier when I'm alone and don't have other people saying "you missed a bit" and so forth. It's also nice to listen to the radio. Actually, it's quite relaxing painting the house. The key is to keep the house well ventilated. On Sunday, I didn't bother opening any windows and ended up with a bad headache. On Monday, all the windows were open and it made a big difference. Another key is to keep things tidy, clean up as you go along and wipe up any paint spills immediately.

Decorating finished! A great job, if I say so myself...

The living room looks good and I feel good as a result.

Andy did go out on Sunday, but only for a short ride and he escaped a soaking, he told me. We're both on for a ride next weekend.

To Westerham for breakfast then the 'Woodland Trek'

There's Siberian weather heading our way next week. They reckon minus 12 degrees and plenty of snow and let's be fair here, it is cold out there, cold as hell. I can't say I was looking forward to Saturday's ride, not initially at any rate. The only saving grace, I felt, was that breakfast at the Tudor Rose café was on the cards. When the weather's cold, I need to know that there's something hot at the other end of the tracks, so to speak. And what's better than a pot of tea and breakfast in an English caff? Nothing, right?

Inside the Tudor Rose, Westerham...

So I knew the ride was going to involve the balaclava and the scarf. I knew the ride meant layers of clothing and plenty of them and I knew that I wouldn't be carrying a heavy flask full of hot water – and that's a bonus, I can tell you. What I forgot was that it would be daylight when I left the house, another bonus as it takes the edge off the cold weather. Another plus point was that I couldn't see any frost on car windscreens. Furthermore there were blue skies and sunshine as I rode up Church Way towards the Limpsfield Road and then on towards the green.

Andy arrived as I turned up and we headed for Westerham, heads down. It wasn't that cold, but then I was prepared and the old balaclava did the trick. The ride was good and soon we arrived at the Tudor Rose, padlocked the bikes outside and headed in for a hot breakfast. Andy chose a sausage sandwich while I ordered good old fashioned beans on toast. We ordered a pot of tea and sat there for about half an hour chilling, eating our breakfasts and sipping tea poured from a traditonal tea pot into mis-matching cups and saucers.

The Tudor Rose is good and there are plenty of cakes, good cakes, but listen, it was miles too early for cake. It was soon time to head home, reluctantly I must add, but it was 0910hrs and we really needed to be on our way. Fuelled by baked beans and toast I had plenty of energy and it saw me through. The ride up the hill, normally really tedious, was fine and soon we reached Botley Hill and the 269, which we both powered along. It was a good run, roughly 50 minutes, probably a little less, from Westerham to Warlingham Green and then 15 minutes from the green to home.

The ride was good. Very good. It set me up for the rest of the day, which was pretty chilled out. The weather was cold, but the sun was out and the skies were blue and everybody's waiting for the Siberian weather later in the week. It's now Sunday. Andy didn't go out today, he had a late night, so I sat around, lacking motivation to go out in the cold alone. Later I phoned Bon. "It's probably too late, but I'm thinking Woodmansterne Green." But it was too late so we arranged to ride out next Saturday instead.

I figured a ride would be good, even a short ride, so I embarked upon the good old Woodland Trek and added a few more roads for good measure; I was out for 44 minutes, but it was a good ride and when I got back I can't remember what I did. Oh yes, I went to Ikea and bought some lampshades and a light bulb, but I'm annoyed with myself and something needs to be done: there's not point getting loads of exercise if I'm going to scoff my face with cake and other baked items, like Danish pastries and snacks like Tim Tams (think Penguin bars but somehow a little tastier). I need a blanket biscuit ban starting tomorrow (Monday). But I'm not going to bore you with that now, let's see how my week goes.

On the Woodland Trek, note blue skies...

It's almost six o'clock and it's still not properly dark, which is good. It's getting lighter by the day, which is also good. Trouble is it's getting colder too and the thought of heavy snow doesn't really appeal to me as it might mess up next week's rides. I have a view about snow: it always strikes twice. You get a downfall of snow, it thaws a little bit and then you get some more and then it lingers and everybody treads carefully on their way to the office. Nobody wants to fall arse over tit. Anyway, I'm sitting here in the dark with nothing but the halogen glow of the television and my laptop illuminating the gloom.

Sunday roast beckons and I'm going to make it! I love Sunday roasts. I love roast chicken, I love Yorkshire puddings, Paxo stuffing, roast potatoes, root vegetables and mustard and I love apple crumble with custard. What else can I say, but no more cakes and biscuits after tomorrow.