Late ride to Carshalton...

It was what used to be known as the 'urban ride to mum's' and it was great because the weather was good. I say it was great (and it was) but the ride itself is one that varies as there are many permutations and on this occasion I think the route was completely different from previous incantations. Perhaps 'completely different' is misleading as there were little bits that were the same: I did ride along Foxley Lane in Purley, but instead of riding towards Woodmansterne Green (like Andy and I used to when we went to see my brother Jon) I filtered off earlier on to a road called, I think, Green Lane and should have wound my way further around these lovely quiet roads at the top end of Wallington before coming out (briefly) on the main road leading down to the top of Wallington High Street. I think it's Woodcote Road as I remember when I was a kid I used to do a milk round with "Dynamic Norman" a film buff milkman. In fact, I turned left and found myself virtually on the round and the memories came flooding back, the hot weekends of childhood summers as I found myself at the top of Boundary Road heading north and eventually branching left and riding up and along Stanley Park Road, turning right into Crichton Avenue (or Crichton Road, I can't remember) and finding myself in Carshalton Beeches, passing the Village Bakery before turning right, riding past the railway station, down the hill and then left and first right down to the gas station before another left and right and then along Westmead Road to mum's.

The ride back was similar although I found myself travelling a little too far up Boundary Road to where it joins Briar Avenue (where mum and dad once considered buying a house) and then taking a long single-track road through the smallholdings which eventually brought me out on Woodmansterne Lane where I turned left and headed towards Foxley Lane again, retracing the steps of my outward ride.

Mileage-wise it was longer than Andy and I used to think. We always put the ride to Woodmansterne Green as a 12-miler and I always thought the same for Carshalton and a ride to mum's, but no, it was just over 15 miles in total.

Sore throat, runny nose...no cycling

Last week I went for a swim and it might have been the reason behind my current state of ill health. Of course, there's no real knowing the real source of my cold, it could have come from anywhere. My mum had a cold last weekend when I went to see her, there are people in the office with colds, so it could have come from anywhere and there's no real point in trying to guess why I'm sitting in here, in pink and white-striped pyjamas, writing this blogpost.

A ride to mum's had been on the cards...

I had been planning an urban ride to mum's today, but on the basis that I knew my sore throat would become a full-blown cold before the week was out (it hit yesterday evening) I looked out of the window at the puddle on next door's conservatory roof and sighed. It wasn't raining, but it had been hammering it down overnight. The skies were grey and there was very little wind, although my California Lilac tree, which still has all of its green leaves, perhaps it's an evergreen, I don't know, was the only thing swaying in whatever breeze was out there.

I'd awoken at 0600hrs out of habit, but I switched the radio off and jumped back into bed. It was gone eight when I jumped out and headed for the kitchen. One thing I hate about having a cold – apart from the streaming nose, the tissues and the smell of Olbas oil – is losing a sense of taste. There's nothing worse than relying upon texture, but there you have it, a cold is a cold and I'll eventually get over it, although sometimes they linger. I wonder where I'll be this time next week? Still bunged up? Still sniffing? Probably, but the streaming nose would have disappeared, it normally does, and I'll be on the mend.

Another iconic poster...

As always, there are things to discuss. Not Donald Trump, although this week he signed a few 'executive orders' to build the wall on the border with Mexico and initiate extreme vetting of people trying to get into the USA from countries like Syria, Iran, Iraq and so on. Needless to say, people aren't happy, but our Prime Minister, Theresa May, was the first international head of state to visit the old tyrant and they seemed to get on swimmingly, both reinforcing the so-called 'special relationship' and Trump was even spotted holding May's hand. That was on last night's 10 o'clock news and then I stayed up to watch Graham Norton who had the cast and director (Danny Boyle) from the new Trainspotting movie, rather pretentiously called T2: Trainspotting. Then I had a Lemsip. Oh yes, I almost forgot. One of the good things about having a cold is Lemsip. I remember back in 2008 when I had a cold and I sat at home drinking Lemsip after Lemsip – used 'as directed' I hasten to add – but I then sat down and wrote the first 6,000 words of my one and only novel, Suki & the Christmas Treasure Trove, which I finished a year later and published (online) in 2012. Happy days, but it didn't make me any money, although that wasn't the point.

Mr President...

But I digress. There are things to discuss. Cotton wool. Or cottonwool? I'm assuming it's 'wool' made out of cotton and, therefore, not wool at all, it's cotton. So why call it cottonwool? One of life's great mysteries I guess. Another thing that's bugging me is the latest food scare – acyrlamide. It bugs me because they've started talking about now, this week, when I remember writing about it in 2007 – 10 years ago! Just don't burn things, make sure your toast is golden brown, not charcoal black, try and avoid potato chips (crisps) and don't over-burn frozen chips. Simple.

It's now 0912hrs, I've just had a second cup of tea, my nose is streaming, I'm still wearing the pink-striped pyjamas and believe it or not the sun is shining. In short, perfect weather for a ride to mum's, but my bike is the garage, padlocked, and it won't be going anywhere until next weekend.

Urban ride to mum's...

Saturday 18th July 2015 was a wonderful sunny day from the outset. It was one of those mornings when everything looks good with the world and there's nothing to do but get up, get ready and go out cycling. I did just that. After a cup of tea and after pondering where I should go I headed into the garage to find a soft front tyre. But this was not a problem as I know it's taken a whole week to go down and is, therefore, a slow puncture. I found the foot pump and rectified the matter and then jumped on the bike – a little later than usual, probably around 0730hrs – and rode along Barnfield, still uncertain as to where I should go; there were really only two choices.

I dawdled for a split second as the decision to turn left and go to Botley or the Tatsfield bus stop presented itself, but no, I always go there so it's got to be mum's for a spot of breakfast. I carried on to the end of the road and then coasted down West Hill and into Essenden Road as this sort of weather demanded that I took things easy, breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the ride.

Mum in her back garden, Saturday 18th July 2015

Andy had work to do and Phil was on holiday so I was on my own and while, yes, I could have gone anywhere, even Westerham, the idea of a lighter rucksack, one not containing a heavy flask of hot water for tea, had a certain appeal and I knew I could get a cup of tea round at mum's and more.

There was little traffic on the road as I turned left on to the Selsdon Road and then left again into Jarvis Road before crossing the Brighton Road and heading uphill towards Pampisford Road and a vast expanse of green fields, parched brown by the sun. It was tempting to get off and take a photograph (as I did the last time I rode this way) but I remained in the saddle and made my way towards the A23 and a right turn at the lights adjacent to the Aerodrome Hotel and then a left turn that took me through an industrial estate and out on to the Stafford Road at The Chase in Wallington where I once saw an identical bike to mine resting against a wall outside of a betting shop.

Traffic picked up a bit as I rode towards Wallington, but not by much and soon I found myself in the backroads behind Carshalton Park. The route skirted the park and brought me out close to the Windsor Castle roundabout. I was only around five minutes from mum's and soon I arrived, parked the bike and gladly accepted the offer of breakfast.

At the top of mum's garden

Mum and I chatted about her brother George and her dad and soon, after a boiled egg, fingers and tea, not forgetting a chopped and peeled orange, it was time to get back on the bike and head home. I walked the bike to the shops with mum who was nipping out to get a newspaper and then, at the foot of Shorts Road, I jumped back on, rode up Alma Road and headed towards Carshalton Beeches. I retraced my earlier route and reached home around 1000hrs, ready to mow the lawn and generally chill.