Last week's ride (to Westerham)...

Last week, that is the weekend of 21st and 22nd September, I rode to Westerham following the usual route and when I got there I parked up outside of Costa with a view to enjoying a large English Breakfast tea sitting outside in the sunshine. Having parked up, a man sitting outside advised me to lock up the bike as somebody had their bike stolen last week. He blamed local kids and pointed towards the church indicating where he thought the kids were coming from, not the church, of course, but the houses beyond the church. He might be wrong, he might be right, who am I to suggest either way? So I padlocked the bike outside Costa and went inside...only to discover a huge queue of people ordering, no doubt, complicated drinks. "Can I have two soya latte's with coconut powder sprinkled on top, plus two flat whites with semi-skimmed milk, a cappuccino, made with soya milk and sprinkled with chocolate..." so I left and wandered down to a place I hadn't visited for some time, the Tudor Rose tea rooms. While tempted by the cakes, especially an iced cherry Bakewell tart, I resisted and just ordered a pot of tea. I sat by the window looking out at my bike through the leaded panes and just chilled, knowing, however, that soon I'd have to be on my way, back to Sanderstead some 11 or so miles uphill, but no matter, that's what it's all about, I cycle somewhere and I have to cycle back. 

Tea in the Tudor Rose, Westerham

Talking of the ride back, I rode past the antique shop and then past the Velobarn (which has never appealed) and along Pilgrims Lane. I managed to get home in an hour, not bad going and then, after doing a bit of shovelling in the back garden, levelling out the detritus left by the fir tree we took out on 16 September, I crashed on the sofa. But then I realised there was no margarine or butter or whatever you call it and promptly got up, jumped in the car and drove to the supermarket to buy some. I really needed a shower after the ride and I noticed how sweaty I was once in the car. I rolled down the windows not wanting to leave the car stinking of sweat and resolved to roll them up again later on, but then I crashed again on the sofa and completely forgot. During the night there was heavy rain and the car was full of rainwater, there were even two puddles of water on the floors in the back and all the seats were wet through. Not nice. We managed to get the water out of the back and did our best to dry things out, but there was an unbearable smell of rancid carpets left behind. Annoying as we were driving to the Cotswolds. We had to place towels and plastic bags and God knows what else on all the seats to protect us from the damp but there was no protection against the stench of rancid carpets. Fortunately, we soon got used to it and all was well and now, a week later, after giving the car a good airing and taking it for one of those hand car washes, all is well with the car too. I, however, am kicking myself for letting such a thing happen. I should have rolled the windows up after getting back from the store, but I didn't and then, having made myself comfortable on the sofa I fell asleep and that was that. Very, very annoying and I hate myself for allowing such a state of affairs to have happened. But happen it did and that's all I can say about it. Fortunately, all is now well and I have resolved never to do such a thing again.

That bloke in the white shirt advised me to lock up the bike

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. 

(No) Visible Lycra...

Perhaps I should be changing the name of the blog, getting rid of that word 'No' and admitting that, for the past month, possibly longer, I've been wearing Lycra in the open air, in the broad daylight. You could even call me a Lycra Monkey, let's face it, and it all started, of course, when I bought a pair of Lycra cycling shorts, admittedly many months ago. Alright, the premise is simple: No Visible Lycra. That means I wear the stuff (to protect certain parts of my anatomy) but it's not visible to the human eye. Fine. Except that recently it's been very visible as I have decided not to wear the trousers that normally cover the offending item of clothing. Why has this happened? Well, the summer for a start. There's nothing worse than wearing heavy cargo trousers with loads of pockets over a pair of Lycra cycling shorts in the heat of the day. In fact, that's really the only reason if I'm honest. So, off with anything covering the shorts and suddenly I'm a Lycra monkey. It feels much better and if it rains I don't seem to get that wet because the rain isn't absorbed into the material as it is with the cargo trousers, which, incidentally, are now spattered in white paint from a fairly recent bout of decorating. Look, it's freer, it's lighter, it's better, but it does make me wonder about the title of my blog, which, of course, I won't be changing.

Westerham, outside Tudor Rose in the sunshine on 17 July

This post is a little late as we're nearing the end of this week's cycling and I've yet to put pen to paper on last week's, which was good, although not as good as this week. It's Friday 23 July as I write this and I've been riding daily for well over a week so I should be putting in over 100 miles this week, although that phrase 'well over' is probably an exaggeration. But let's look at last week's rides first. In a nutshell, I've got to ride three Washpond Weebles to make a decent week of riding and that's what I did: three Weebles and one 'Weeble and more' which was rather odd; I saw a sign for the Sustrans Route 21 (avid readers will remember how I took Route 21 from Redhill to Warlingham and ended up riding an off-road hell of sorts). Well, I assumed that the stretch of this route I was about to embark upon was the continuation from the bit from Redhill and sure enough it was. Route 21 ultimately ends up in Greenwich, but I wasn't going that far, although I thought I'd see where it went and follow it for a short while. It was mud and puddles all the way and, much to my disappointment, the road veered right and I ended up on Scotshall, a country lane that took me back on the original Weeble route, upping my mileage by just half a mile. In other words it was a complete waste of time. The weather throughout last week's rides was good: sunny, warm, bright and hot on different days and that makes all the difference as only the previous week there had been cloud and rain. In the end I managed around 84 miles (that's a rough calculation, but a respectable distance nonetheless).

Crumbling cake and not much tea...

This week started with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and a respectable 22.85 miles in the sunshine. In fact, on the sunshine front, I have a pleasant sun tan on my legs and arms as a result. We sat outside the Costa, which I think offers far better value for money than the Tudor Rose cafe. Last Saturday (17 July) was the final day of my cycling week and I rode to Westerham via Beddlestead and through Woldingham. I decided to have tea in the Tudor Rose and ordered a slice of coffee and walnut cake. When the order arrived I won't deny it, I was disappointed. For a start, the cake was falling apart (I've experienced this before at the Tudor Rose) and the 'large tea' was not even a decent-sized mug. To make matters worse it cost me £6. At Costa I can get a large tea (and I mean a large tea in a huge paper carton with two tea bags) plus a cinnamon brioche bun for something like £4.28. I told Andy that the Costa provided better value for money and then continued to stuff my face.

On the cake front (and it has to be mentioned) last week I did rather overdo things, and not just cakes. Off the top of my head I think I enjoyed the following: a white chocolate Twix, a Wispa bar, a Twirl, a cappuccino mousse from Waitrose, possibly two of them, the aforementioned coffee and walnut cake and a couple of Millionaires shortbreads, something like that; so this week I put on the brakes. I've riden every day of the week and I've not touched a cake or a chocolate bar and let's get it on record that I have riden daily since 15 July, it's now 23 July and I will be going out today too, possibly this afternoon.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane...

This week, to date I've mainly stuck to the Weebles, but on Wednesday I did a straight ride to Botley Hill on the 269 around 1000hrs when the road seemed relatively quiet, although I did get one 'use the cycle lane!' from a Boris Johnson supporter and of course ignored him. That ride clocked up 13.42 miles but I won't do it again. Yesterday I was intending to do another Weeble but the road was closed, causing me to ride down Hesiers, up Beddlestead Lane, head west on Clarks Lane and then ride The Ridge into Woldingham and up Slines Oak Road (17.42 miles). So far this week I've riden 72.43 miles and I've got two rides to go, meaning that if I ride a Weeble today (12.30 miles or thereabouts) plus, say, a Westerham ride tomorrow, then my total will top 100 miles.

Vineyards along Pilgrims Lane...

All week it's been hot, very hot, often too hot to ride a bike, but the shade of the trees, the fragrant hedgerows and the warm breeze has made it all very pleasant and there's still two days of this week's cycling to go so I'm not complaining.

Fields on Beddlestead Lane...

Today I'm planning a Washpond Weeble, but being as the road is closed, meaning access to Washpond Lane is impossible, I'll have to ride down Hesiers Hill and repeat yesterday's ride, which isn't a hardship. In fact, it's greater mileage so it all adds to the final total, which I won't know until I've completed tomorrow's ride either to Westerham - where there's the temptation of cake - or to the Lakes where I'll need a flask of hot water, a mug and a couple of tea bags, although, if the latter, I'm going to have to leave the house earlier, possibly even at the old time of 0700hrs. I haven't left the house that early for some time.

Another scene from Beddlestead Lane earlier this week...

Friday afternoon, around 1630hrs, I headed out not really knowing where I was going. The rough plan was to ride the Washpond Weeble, but only if Beech Farm Road was no longer closed. The alternative was doing a Ledger's Loop, which I reckoned would be around 10 miles, but it might be less and knowing Strava I'd be disappointed to discover that, lo and behold, it was only, say, 9.34 miles (or something of that order). But still, I thought I'd go for it: I'd follow the route of the Weeble, but branch right on to Ledgers Road and then ride back along the 269 and home. As I rode along Ledgers I figured that if the road was still closed surely there would be a 'Road Closed' sign at the bottom of Washpond Lane, but there wasn't so I embarked upon a Reverse Weeble and sure enough the signs had been removed from Beech Farm Road, all was well and as of now, Saturday morning at 0834hrs, I've riden something like 85 miles with one ride left to go and that's now, any second now. But it's dark outside, rain is threatened and it looks like a November morning. The temperature is roughly 19 degrees so it's not that bad. I've got to get out there, I know that much, and I've only got around 30 minutes of slobbing around before I need to commit. It looks as if I'll go over 100 miles this week.

The Rockhopper on Beddlestead Lane...

And I did go over 100 miles, riding a record 110 miles thanks to a ride to Westerham. Yes, it was initially dull and grey and there was a persistent drizzle, but I persevered and by the time I was on Beddlestead Lane I was feeling good, thanks again to the fragrant hedgerows and the ferns lining each side of the road. I don't think I've ever seen ferns so tall. This is what I love about the summer months, the fact that nature is cascading everywhere, enclosing the country lanes and transforming them into peaceful havens of tranquility, almost another world shut off from the cacophony of modern life. All I could hear as I pedalled towards Clarks Lane and my left turn towards Westerham, was the chirping of birds and the rustle of other wildlife in the undergrowth, I didn't even see any other cyclists (along Beddlestead Lane).

Tea at the Tudor Rose

I rode along Pilgrims Lane, past the vineyards and the Velobarn (which was deserted) and into Westerham. To my dismay, Costa was closed so I was forced to visit the Tudor Rose. I didn't have any cake, they were looking a bit tired, and I suspect that the crumbly-looking coffee and walnut cake was the same one I ordered last week. A mug of tea sufficed. 

The ride home was fine. I retraced my inward ride but then followed The Ridge into Woldingham and home, cycling up the steep bit of Slines Oak Road with relative ease and then sailing along the Limpsfield Road towards home. The new cycling week starts tomorrow with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy... and if Costa's closed we'll need to find somewhere else for tea and possibly cake too, although the week without cake and sweets has done me some good and I'm not sure I fancy stuffing my face, I might just leave it.

Costa still closed, but the cake was fresh, not crumbly

Just a brief word about the Tudor Rose Tea Rooms' cakes: today they were fine and they looked recently replenished. Yesterday (Saturday) they were looking a bit tired and there was just one slice of coffee and walnut cake left, but today there was a whole cake so I ordered some and as you can see from the image above, it's not crumbly, it's perfect, although it still cost me just under £6.00 and I was forced to have a small pot of tea rather than a much more satisfactory paper cup. The photo above was taken this morning in a crowded restaurant. Fortunately, I managed to find a small table at the back and had to move my bike so that I could see it from where I was sitting. The service was a bit rubbish, I ordered a tea and a slice of coffee and walnut cake and heard the waitress make the mistake and then over-charge me: "So that's one tea, a slice of walnut cake and a coffee, that'll be £8.60." No, I said, that can't be right and she apologised but then, later, she took my order to the wrong table. The boss woman wasn't there so I'm guessing that was why things were a little off-kilter. I wish Costa would re-open, which is odd coming from me, somebody who likes the support the indie operators, but I'm afraid the Costa offers far better value for money, they're clearly not checking out their competition.

Hot, sunny days create shadows and here's mine!

To Westerham for breakfast, the slow way to the bus stop...and a puncture!

Tuesday 6th November: The weekend's weather was good, which is good news in November. We met at the Green and decided to head to Westerham and the Tudor Rose for breakfast. It was a repeat of last weekend's ride, except that I didn't have any decorating to do when I got back. We even had the same food order: sausage sandwich, scrambled egg on toast with mushrooms and a pot of tea. The restaurant was sparsely populated. I've noticed a regular customer and the rest of us were cyclists, although we were the only ones without Lycra.

Tudor Rose Tearooms in Westerham, Kent, Saturday

The ride down had been good, nothing to report, but good nonetheless. Although, having said that, I was forced to make a detour – down Briton Hill Road and up Sanderstead hill (the 269) – due to some sort of altercation at the top of Church Way. Two blokes plus one bystander were involved. There was a parked people carrier and two people, one I'm assuming was the driver, all wearing track suits, pushing each other around and I figured that I didn't want to get involved in any trouble at such an ungodly hour, so I diverted and had the pain of the hill to deal with before reaching the roundabout.

The delay was miniscule, but it was a little annoying.

We rode along the 269 to Botley Hill and then took a left at the roundabout along Clarks Lane, sailing down the hill and into the northern Kent market town, both pleased that we'd riden to Westerham two weeks in succession.

On Sunday, I felt a little tired, but I got up, had breakfast and then headed for the green again. This time we opted for the Tatsfield Bus Stop – the slow way. Always tiresome, but eventually we got there thanks to a positive mental attitude, a phrase Andy had used to drum up some enthusiasm in me; quite honestly I was thinking of a short run to the cottage via Botley Hill, but in all honesty, I'm glad we did it and, as always, it wasn't that bad.

We sat at the bus stop watching bad drivers wheel-spinning on the right turn out of Approach Road and then, having flicked our teabags on to the patch of grass in front of us, we jumped on the bikes and headed for home. Andy parted at The Ridge and I rode the off-road path to Warlingham. Perhaps I should have stuck with the road. Why? Because later in the day I found myself in the garage. I must have gone out there to bring in the step ladder (there was a small hole in the ceiling that needed filling and painting over). I had to move the bike and when I put it down I noticed a dull thud rather than the usual bouncy one associated with a fully inflated tyre. I couldn't believe me eyes. Only Saturday I'd been bragging to Andy that it's been two years and no punctures. Never tempt fate, that's all I can say.

Inside the Tudor Rose Tearooms – perfect!

* The date at the top of this post is wrong. I penned this report early in the morning on Tuesday 6th November.

Tatsfield Churchyard and Westerham

A pleasant ride to the Tatsfield Churchyard on Saturday with Andy and Phil and then a ride to Westerham this morning, just Andy and I. The weather was fine on both days. This morning it was a little misty and overcast, but there was no rain. We found ourselves back at the Tudor Rose Tearooms where Andy ordered a sausage sandwich, like last time, and I opted for toast and marmalade, not forgetting a pot of tea. It was all very genteel and English. Reached home just before 10am.

Outside the Tudor Rose Tearooms, Westerham, Kent.

Photo by Andy Smith.

A heavy mist, an irritating knocking noise and some lively conversation...

My bike is sounding like a metronome and for those who don't know what a metronome is, it's a device used by musicians to keep time and it clicks monotonously depending on how it is set. The problem with my bike is the bottom bracket. It needs replacing, but I've been told by the man in the bike shop in Redhill to keep on riding it until it simply has to be fixed. I think it might be getting close to that time as the click...click...click...click is there all the time and I'm sure it'll soon be annoying anybody cycling in close proximity to me, namely, Andy or Phil.

A spooky mist hung over the Tatsfield Churchyard on Saturday morning

The bike is suffering at the moment. Not only are punctures occuring with regularity, the brakes were recently fixed (readers might recall the extortionate bill) along with the wheel needing new spokes and so on and so forth. Today, while out on a short ride with my daughter around the block, the gears were playing up and the whole chain system froze up.

This weekend was another great one in terms of the weather. Both days were warm and, it has to be said, a little changeable: one minute sunshine then a little rain and sometimes a combination of sunshine and rain. But who's complaining? Not me. I've been off work all week, chilling at home and the weather's been nothing but fantastic. I've spent a lot of time in  Forest Row and Ashdown Forest enjoying the delights of a restaurant called Java & Jazz and Forest Row's rather exquisite bakery behind the main High Street. Today (Monday) we enjoyed Cornish pasties and Bakewell Tarts while sitting in the forest taking in the view. It's been a lazy week, but not much in the way of cycling was done (I needed the rest) and now, tomorrow, I'm back to work.

Right now, though, it's 2326hrs on Monday night and I can't sleep. Why is this? I'm beginning to wonder whether I drink too much tea. Anyway, I went to bed around 1030hrs, found myself lying in bed fully awake and now here I am writing this blogpost. It might well be that during the week I've taken life relatively easy and, therefore, I've got a lot of unspent energy keeping me awake. Perhaps it's the cake. I'm guilty this week of enjoying the odd slice of cake, the odd KitKat bar and plenty of bread and marmalade – all very sugary when you think about it (and it's got to stop) but I've been off work on what is likely to be my only holiday this year so I figure I can enjoy a slice of two of cake when I fancy it. The trouble, of course, is that I always fancy a nice bit of cake. Today it was Bakewell tart, the other day it was coffee and walnut cake, then there was the odd KitKat round at mum's (she keeps them in a house-shaped biscuit 'tin' – it's made out of porcelain. I know this because I bought it for her last Christmas).

This is an old shot of Westerham Green, our destination on Sunday.

Cycling wise, the weekend was good: a ride out to Tatsfield Churchyard on Saturday with Phil and Andy and then a ride to Westerham on Sunday, also with Phil and Andy.

On Saturday, en route to the churchyard, we encountered a heavy mist at the top end of the 269 and none of us had any effective lights. My rear light had run out of batteries and Andy's rear light was all but invisible in the thick fog.

This weekend we discussed loads of stuff as we munched our cereal bars, sipped our tea or stuffed our faces with Phil's excellent bacon sandwiches (a Sunday treat). On Saturday, at the churchyard, we discussed the prevalence of a growing so-called 'underclass' that is developing in the UK, something that many people have discussed over recent years in connection with the London riots, benefits and so forth. Phil brought it up this weekend, although I recall, about a year ago, possibly a little longer, that I brought it up having been for a wander around the Crown Hill area of Croydon. It's an interesting subject and it's well worth reading Owen Jones' Chavs in which he argues that the white working class has become it's own ethnic group characterised by people with 'dangerous dogs', hoodies and tattoos.

On Sunday we parked up on the green at Westerham, behind Churchill's statue and watched as a fellow cyclist parked up outside the Tudor Tea Rooms. "Can you watch my bike for me?" he asked and we said we would, but as soon as he'd disappeared into the shop, we started discussing how we could now nick the bike – which, we guessed, was very expensive. We were only joking, of course, but that didn't stop us working out the entire caper out loud, accompanied by much laughter. The man was wearing those strange cycling shoes that adhere the wearer to the pedals of the bike, so running after whoever rode off on the top-of-the-range machine would have been difficult. My view was that we'd need somebody in a van to take the bike to a safe house where, needless to say, it would eventually require a re-spray. The whole conversation reminded me of a conversation between Andy and I a year or so ago when we decided that being a criminal, a petty criminal, was simply not worth the aggravation. Imagine, for example, if we had stolen the bike, we'd have to re-spray it and then what? Risk selling it on Ebay? No, ultimately it would be more trouble than it was worth. Similarly, shoplifting; where would it get us? Nowhere and, as I've said many a time before, if I was caught with a tin of baked beans, I reckon I'd be going down.

The Tudor Rose Tearooms – next weekend we're having

our breakfast here!

Doing a runner from a restaurant has always been appealing and probably one of the most adrenaline-fueled capers on the books – if a chase was involved – but again, neither Andy, Phil or yours truly are capable of being criminals (we're all too nice). With that pleasing thought in our minds and having drank all the tea and eaten our bacon sandwiches, we headed out of Westerham, up the hill to Botley and home.