Swimming, cycling, improved weather...

 I went down with a bit of a cold and as a result I had to forfeit the ride on Sunday to meet Andy; that was the week before last, but last week Andy couldn't make it so I had to motivate myself. Fortunately, the poor weather seems to have left the building so I rode to Westerham last Sunday despite the fact that my original plan had been to visit the Velobarn, which seems to open when it pleases. I rode along Pilgrim's Lane and found the place to be closed, leaving me no option than to ride into Westerham, which I did, stopping at Costa, padlocking the bike outside and enjoying a very pleasant cup of English Breakfast tea in the sunshine.

The ride back, was as expected and when I passed the Velobarn it was still closed. Their loss, I was thinking, their loss. It wasn't long before I reached Botley Hill and then before too long I was home. In a complete break with tradition I quickly went out again to do the Norfolk Nobbler, a six-miler round the local streets, which can be quite a work-out. In total I rode 28 miles last Sunday and felt better for it. 

What arsewipes did this?

Last Thursday, the one just gone (6 March) I went for a swim at my local pool. Half a mile is a good distance, takes around 30 minutes, 32 lengths, and on a Thursday the pool is pretty much empty. A pleasant hot shower followed and because I'd parked my car in the supermarket across the road, there was no parking charges, meaning I could relax a little and enjoy my shower, which I did. 

I've been having a few problems with the pool membership. I was originally on a plan that was restricted to just one pool and this was causing issues because if I wanted to go more than once a week (I have to go twice a week to make it pay) it was difficult in terms of available times to go. So, I upgraded my membership, which meant I could use a pool slightly further away, but when I got there last Friday evening I wasn't too happy with the pool. All the changing rooms were damp, the locker system was different and basically, all the faffing around made me leave the place in a mild huff without a swim, although if I dig dip I'd probably discover that I wasn't really up for a swim and needed instead to simply relax. I'll now have to degrade my membership to what it was before and try and work out a different solution. I'm planning on one swim per week twice a month and two swims per week on the remaining two weeks. Again, not a problem.

During the week I had the bike serviced. I was initially having problems with the inner tube valve, which I simply couldn't undo in order to inflate the inner tube. I took it to the bike shop and he fixed it. I now have a new tyre and inner tube on the back. While I was there I asked him to fix the bottom bracket, which had well and truly gone, and he said I might as well get a service, so I booked the bike in. The brakes are now fixed, there's a new chain and block and the bottom bracket is fixed too but, as always, the price was almost that of a new bike, albeit a very low spec machine. For an extra forty quid I could have walked out of there with a new one. But hey ho. I didn't buy a new bike, I had my Rockhopper fixed and it's running smoothly as a result and that's all that matters.

I had a haircut during the week and asked for a number three. "That's a skinhead," said the barber. "I know," I said, and he got on with it. I feel much better after a short haircut and I look better too. Nothing worse than straggly hair, it looks so untidy, especially when it's greying. That set me back around £15, which was fine. Afterwards I went to Costa Coffee for an English Breakfast tea and a Bakewell tart. But I wasn't relaxed and after around 10 minutes I left and drove home.

Today, Saturday 8th March, I did a Washpond Weeble, just over 12 miles. The weather is great today, not cold, but I left the house late and decided to shorten the ride; I was going to head for Oxted or Westerham or, if it was open, the Velobarn but decided instead on a non-stop ride which took just over an hour. Riding through Washpond Lane I noticed that some arse wipes had set fire to a car and left it in a pile by the side of the road. I mean, what kind of arseholes do that sort of thing? It was, however, a pleasant ride and now I'm back home writing the blog, which I haven't been doing as frequently as I should. Oddly, when I checked the weekly stats for this past week, the number was well over 10,000 visitors, it's now around 6,000. I love it when reader numbers go up or whatever it is the figures relate to.

Outside the sun is shining and the skies are fairly blue, it's 8th March and the bees are out, the snowdrops and the crocuses are on the lawns and there are signs of daffodils too. In short, the summer is on the way and I love it. It means more cycling and that's what I like.

Tomorrow (Sunday 9th March) I'm hoping to see Andy at Sheree's Tearooms, that's around 17 miles, so 29 miles in total, I might even ride into Westerham afterwards if the weather holds and knock the mileage over the 30-mile marker. Who knows? I might not!

Leeches don't work on 'slime' innertubes...oh I wish I'd known that!

Not a great deal to say. Cycling has been weekly at best, once a week at worst and always Tatsfield Village. Nothing wrong with the destination, but the weather has been poor, on and off, for weeks. They're saying that it's the wettest February for years. I'm not sure whether the phrase "since records began" is appropriate, but I wouldn't be surprised.

Washpond Lane, Saturday 9th March 2024

Andy and I have been enjoying the sanctuary of Sheree's Tearooms, and the fact that Sheree actually exists makes it even better. We meet on Sundays mainly and enjoy a good old chinwag about something or other, it's a relaxing time when the troubles of the world can, by and large, be forgotten about, and believe me we've both had a few problems of late and they've taken their toll. My sister and Andy's wife have both passed and it's not been easy for either of us. I can't speak for Andy, obviously, but during the lead-up to Christmas, after my sister's passing in early December, I went through the mill a bit. I kind of calmed down by Christmas Day and, give or take, while the emotional side of things will take time, the physical symptoms, if that's what they were, have disappeared. I think (although I can never be sure) that I suffered from panic attacks. On the day of my sister's passing I should not have been driving, but I was and I felt terrible inside. It's hard to describe if I'm honest, but somehow or other I managed to fight through it. Cycling has helped a great deal and so did being at Sheree's drinking tea, munching a Biscoff biscuit and chatting with Andy. I know that Andy found Sheree's equally healing – and still does.

The Tatsfield rides were pretty straightforward, just a scoot along the 269 and then hanging a left at Approach Road, past the famous Tatsfield Bus Stop, which is now confined to the NoVisibleLycra history books as we tend to enjoy a café rather than a bench exposed to the elements. This, as I've mentioned before, was largely a result of lockdown, or rather the aftermath of the lockdown, and I think coffee shops are here to stay as we both feel that, in addition to the sanctuary offered at Sheree's, it's also a reward for getting out there and taking a ride.

I've been rather lucky on the puncture front of late. The reason might well have a lot to do with fitting one of those green slime inner tubes on my rear wheel. Weeks, months even, went by without a puncture and I began to feel invincible until, the week before last, I was riding along the 269's off-road path and suddenly the familiar wheel wobble meant just one thing: a puncture. Throw in some coldish weather and some rain and the fact that I had no idea about how slime inner tubes worked (leeches don't adhere to them, Andy told me later) and you have what I regarded as the perfect cycling disaster. Well, not so much disaster, just annoying. There I stood by the side of the 269, rear wheel resting against a gate, holding an inner tube, trying to find the puncture and getting ready to use a leech. Why didn't they stick, I wondered, as I worked through an entire pack of 'scabs' or whatever they were called. It seems that Leeches (the proper ones) have disappeared not only from bike shops but also from the internet and we're left with inferior products (what's new?) But let's get back to me standing in the rain, surrounded by discarded 'leeches' wondering what to do next. I'd told Andy that I was liable to be here for ages (and I was). It took a while to get the tyre on and off and then get it back on AFTER I remembered that my inner tube was supposedly designed to fix its own punctures. I noticed the green spot where the puncture was located and without any leeches to plug the hole I decided to put everything back together again, pump up the tyre and then hope it would get me home. It did! The drizzly rain didn't let up and by the time I got home I was unpleasantly damp, having not brought my cumbersome cape along for the ride. I put the bike into the garage and then, the following morning, I noticed that the rear tyre was still pumped up the following morning. To be honest with you, the puncture event happened on the Saturday and I think (although I can't be 100% sure) that on Sunday there was more rain and the whole idea of a ride to Tatsfield was simply aborted. It was the following Sunday that I met Andy at Sheree's and he told me how leeches don't work on slime inner tubes. Well, I know now. Like I also know that I'll avoid the off-road path if I can. The problem there was that I was labouring under a false sense of security. The rule, as we all know, is that the off-road path along the side of the 269 is puncture city, but for some reason I rode it a good half dozen times and never got a flat. I put this down to the new (ish) rear tyre as I figured the front tyre wasn't as vulnerable as the rear, but then it happened. Anyway, let's not go on about it anymore. It happened, the slime inner tube worked and all is back to normal. As I rode home on that drizzly day, however, I must say that I allowed myself to get a little angry about the whole episode. I tend to let small things get me down, which is silly and completely pointless, but I figured that the best way to change the direction of my emotions was to stop at the Esso garage and give the bike a much-needed jet clean, although it was my soul that needed jet cleaning. The bike had been covered in mud for some weeks and it was great to blast it all off and then ride home with a tyre that was still holding out.

I can't remember how things turned out after that; I carried on working during the week and cycling at the weekend and the rain and poor weather continued too. Today has been weird, although what is today? I can't even remember when I wrote this post, it was certainly around a week ago – up to this point – probably longer. Overnight there was a lot of wind and rain and then during the day the rain competed with the sun; one minute it was raining, the next minute there was sunshine. I decided to walk rather than cycle. Late in the afternoon I embarked upon a three-miler and I managed to escape the rain. I stopped halfway at a Costa in Sanderstead High Street for a green tea and, yes, a Bakewell tart and then I walked back. And now I'm sitting here writing this blogpost with the shit show that is the BRIT awards on in the background (so the BRIT awards will give you (and me) an idea of what day it was, not as long ago as I thought).

Hopefully the rain will have stopped once and for all tomorrow and I'll be able to get out on the bike and head for Tatsfield village or Biggin Hill or Westerham or wherever. I doubt I'll go to Biggin Hill as there's something depressing about it, especially the Costa Coffee there, which is a little dull. I don't know what it is, but some places don't work for me and Biggin Hill is one of them. It's fine on a hot summer's day but not when the weather's bad. There's always Oxted but right this minute I can't handle a ride up Titsey Hill.

It was a week later when I decided, on a Saturday, to ride the non-stop 'Botley Bastard', a trip up the 269 and then into Woldingham and home – around 15 miles; the following week I rode the Washpond Weeble (see photo of sheep above) – 12 miles – and now it's Thursday and the weekend lies ahead of me. I'm now thinking about Oxted or, perhaps, another non-stop ride, another Weeble perhaps or another Botley Bastard. I'm guessing Andy and I will be meeting on Sunday at Tatsfield. 

The Washpond Weeble and other stories...

21-22 October: Mid-October and for the first time since God knows when, it's started to feel like October. The summer has been strange. June was good, July and August were okay and then September – and October up to now – were wonderful. I flew to Stockholm early in September and the weather was amazing. When I flew back to the UK and stepped off the plane it was like arriving in Greece in July. It was hot! And the decent weather continued. Last weekend was good, but this morning there was a definite nip in the air and I seriously started to wonder why I wasn't wearing long trousers. Admittedly, last week I was wearing a fleece, but this week, in addition to the fleece, I think I needed longer trousers. That said, once I'd been on the bike around 30 minutes I warmed up and things were pleasant enough. 

The Lobster Pot is getting more sophisticated...and pricey!

I rode the Washpond Weeble, something I haven't done for a very long time, and all was well. I rode along the Limpsfield Road, turned left at the roundabout just past Sainsbury's and then followed the road for a bit until I needed to hang right and ride past The Bull pub. The roads were clear. I never saw much in the way of traffic once I was off the main road and let's not forget, this was a non-stop ride, no Costa, no Caffe Nero, no Starbucks, no Coughlans and that meant no biscuits, no cake, no nothing. It was just a ride and that was good. In total, 12.45 miles, an elevation gain of 742ft and a time of one hour and 17 minutes. I was even given a 'local legend' accolade by Strava (meaning I'll have to avoid the tabloid photographers for a few days).

Another good thing about the ride, apart from it being non-stop, was that it was fairly flat so I probably rode faster than I might have done. Aerobically, therefore, it probably did me some good. I reached home feeling great so we drove to the beach, walked from the Lobster Pot to Old Point and back and then rounded it off with a cup of tea in the Lobster Pot before heading home. We'd had lunch there before the walk. 

The Lobster Pot has changed, it's no longer the seaside caff I remember, although it's been getting more sophisticated for some time. I would probably argue that it has an identity crisis and that customers are witnessing the changing face of the place every time they pay a visit. It's as if it's shedding its old skin slowly. It's open in the evening now, it's licensed and there's some interesting dishes on the menu, some of the main courses costing over £24. Hardly 'caff cuisine'. And yet the caff bit lives on as there are plenty of people who, like us, drop in for a snack rather than a poncy meal prior to a bracing walk along the promenade. Today, I noticed that banquette seating had infiltrated the caff space. It's as if they're doing it slowly and by stealth in the hope that the customers won't notice. Either that or they can't afford to kit the place out in one go and need to do it piece-by-piece. Perhaps if I go back in about a month the whole place will be banquette seating and the old pine tables will be stored away somewhere. I remember when the Lobster Pot was called Perdido's! They've covered up a considerable portion of the outdoor seating area too so you can sit 'outside' without fearing the rain. For me the problem they'll have to deal with pretty soon is the bathrooms. When it was little more than a hut, the two small toilets at the back were more than enough, but now there are plenty of customers (we were lucky to get a seat) I think they'll have to look at adding more restroom space.

The food's not cheap either! Over £30 for a smoked turkey sandwich, a kid's portion of sausage, chips and beans and a bowl of soup with a roll, plus three mugs of tea. That's quite pricey. But hey! We haven't been this way for a long time and it was good to see that things were more than thriving, so I say good luck to the people running the Pot.

It was good to look at all the lovely houses on the seafront too. We covered 3.5 miles in total and deserved the additional mug of tea on our return to the Pot. We drove home around 1735hrs but it took us over two hours and I can't figure out why so long. We didn't encounter any problems, no jams, nothing. Normally it's around 90 minutes tops. Anyway, we reached home around 1930hrs. There was time to chill before dinner and then I sat down with a large mug of Sleepy Time Bear Extra tea. I'd bought it on Amazon, two boxes.

Brass monkey weather!

The next morning I was up just before 0700hrs eating my usual breakfast (Alpen, fruit, tea). I headed off around 0800hrs and this time I was wearing jeans over the cycling shorts plus a jumper underneath the fleece. Yes, it was cold. Very cold. I was heading for Westerham to meet Andy at 0900hrs at Costa. The journey was just the same as it always is except that when coasting downhill, especially heading down Clarks Lane, brass monkey conditions ensued that I hadn't experienced since last winter. Not nice. Andy was there when I arrived but he still had plenty of black coffee in his cup, meaning he hadn't been there too long before my arrival. I ordered a large English Breakfast tea and that was it and then joined Andy. 

I was telling him how, earlier, I was riding along as normal when I was passed by an elderly gentleman on a pushbike. "Good morning," he said as he passed and I thought I'd try and keep up with him. What kind of annoyed me (it always has annoyed me) was that I was pedalling like a madman, he was cycling at a more sedate pace and yet he soon pulled far away from me and I just couldn't figure out why.

"He probably cycles more than you do," said Andy, matter-of-factly. 

Yes, he probably did, I thought, realising that I needed to up my game somewhat.

"Remember that time last year when we were cycling out of Westerham and I was doing a good 14 miles/hour?"

He did remember and he put it down to me being fitter because I was cycling more than I am now. In essence, I'd just have to get my act together, I knew that... and cut out the cake and the cappuccino while I'm at it.

"I need to add another ride during the week, possibly two rides," I said.

"Or push yourself a little more, tackle the hills in a higher gear," Andy advised.

He was right, but I couldn't help but feel a little inadequate and as if I had a lot of work to put in before I could even hope to stay abreast of the old man I'd met earlier.

"I'm thinking of taking up swimming," I said, thinking a few weeks ahead when the days are shorter and I won't exactly fancy riding up White Hill Lane in the dark. In fact, there's a few things on my mind. I'm going to check out membership of the local gym so that I can use their exercise bikes, possibly two one-hour sessions on a Tuesday and a Thursday, and then possibly a swim on Friday. I'll need to work something out. Park Run appeals too, but I've been injured running in the past so perhaps not. All I know is that the weight falls off when I run.

Andy left before me as I needed to answer the call of nature, but the bogs in the Costa were out of order (for the second week on the trots). There was a disabled toilet but I spotted a fellow cyclist nip in there and not come out for ages. I envisage a later conversation. "I'd leave it 10 minutes if I were you." I headed over the road to the King's Arms hotel and used their facilities and then I embarked upon the ride home resolving not to change the gears to a low setting. Before heading off I dropped into the antique shop, Castle Antiques I think it's called. I like wandering around antique shops and charity shops too, but this was the former. I found a Westclox Baby Ben for £18 and an old suitcase, both of which would have looked good on a business trip, I thought, as they might bring a touch of Miss Marple to the proceedings. There were old books, long forgotten model cars, old watches. I really did go back in time for the brief period I was in there, and then I headed for home, past the Velo Barn, along Pilgrims, up Rectory Road and back on to Clarks Lane, keeping in the same gear I'd travelled down in. Yes, I did puff myself out more than usual but it wasn't impossible. The effort was worth it and when I reached Botley Hill I felt both relieved and satisfied.

When I reached home a slice of toast and marmalade (without vegetable spread as we'd run out) was most welcomed. I made tea then had a shower and we drove over to see mum before heading east to Sevenoaks where I enjoyed a coffee and a prawn and mayonnaise sandwich in the M&S cafe while waiting for my wife and daughter (they'd eaten in Wagamama, but I didn't fancy a full-blown meal).

We drove back and now it's almost 1800hrs. There's work tomorrow, but the stress is off (for a while). I say 'a while', it'll be back very soon.

Four rides, total distance covered = 71.27 miles

The signs were all there: summer was coming. Blue skies, hawthorn hedges trimmed with a flat top cut, blossoms on trees, daffodils in full bloom and, of course, sunshine. I was on the bike, I can't remember what time it was, but I know it was after 0900hrs, possibly later. I was on the 269, still not that busy even though it was a Saturday morning, but cars are noisy and so are their passengers. One car passed travelling in the opposite direction and as he passed he sounded his horn. Why, I wondered. There was no reason, unless he was simply unhappy that I was sharing his tarmac space. Who knows? Not me. And who cares? Not me again.

Cappuccino in Westerham this morning

Yesterday (Friday) I had engaged with a new ride: Botley Hill and a Washpond Weeble thrown in for good measure on the return ride, not that there was a 'return ride'. There's only a return ride when I stop somewhere, giving the ride it's two halves, the outward and the return journey, but this ride was non-stop, I never dismounted. I remember yesterday's ride for one reason: there was a tremendous temptation to ride into Westerham, but I didn't. I left Westerham for today (Saturday). I turned left at the roundabout, considering as I did so riding to Oxted instead. The temptation was, of course, Caffe Nero, but the downside was riding up Titsey Hill, so I stuck with Westerham and sailed down Clarks Lane looking forward to arriving at Costa Coffee. I was already wondering whether I should stick with my usual English Breakfast tea in a takeaway cup or opt for a regular cappuccino in a proper cup. There was no way I was going to have a cake. As we all know, I'm eating a lot of cake at the moment, one way or the other, and it's got to stop.

Lunch in Gail's in Sevenoaks. I should have left it there.

Westerham was buzzing. There were plenty of people wandering around, sitting in cafes, peering through shop windows, all the usual stuff you might expect on a Saturday morning. I rolled along the high street and parked up, padlocking the bike to a road sign and then headed on inside to place my order. I opted for the regular cappuccino and then took a seat in the middle of the store as other people were occupying my preferred seats by the window. It was pleasant simply sitting there, sipping my chosen drink and looking out of the window at those passing by; as always I could have sat there all morning. All I needed was a newspaper or a decent book, but I had neither, more's the pity.

At Botley Hill on Friday

The ride home was fine. I followed my usual route past Velo Barn and along Pilgrims Lane, eventually finding myself at Botley Hill where I decided to ride the 269 again rather than travel through Woldingham. I reached home around 1230hrs and after a Marmite sandwich set about mowing the back lawn, the first cut of the year (always a little tough). It's still not finished, but I'll complete the job tomorrow some time, it's just the lawn at the very top and the edges.

This week, my four rides totalled 70.27 miles. I had exceeded my preferred weekly mileage and felt really good about it. During the week I had a puncture. Well, Thursday I had a puncture. I fixed it there and then, in the garage, having found the rear wheel flat tyre as I was about to ride the Washpond Weeble. Initially, the idea of fixing the puncture and then going out on the ride was out of the question, but I did it, even if it did mean that I would be riding in the dark on the way back. I stopped off at Waitrose for some beef gravy (we had cottage pie) and the ride from the store to home was a little precarious as I had to balance a small plastic bag containing the gravy and some hot cross buns, but I reached home safely and enjoyed a bun before dinner. 

Friday I combined a ride to Botley Hill with a Washpond Weeble, a total of 14.65 miles and then later drove to Sevenoaks where I enjoyed an over-priced meal in Gail's. I had two cappuccinos when I should have had one and I had two cakes, one pleasant, the other not so good and I think in the end I spent something like £25. The weather was perfect and I had the day off. We wandered around the town, looking in shop windows, checking out the house prices, all the usual stuff and I was feeling happy knowing that I had completed three of my four rides. All that was left for me to do exercise wise was to ride to Westerham on Saturday morning and, as you already know, I have done that.

The light faded on Thursday as I turned on to Washpond Lane

The bike is in fairly good nick. I need to jet clean it at the local garage, which I will do one of these days, but after fixing the puncture on Thursday I did give it a mini-clean, including a scrub of the block with a toothbrush, something I'd never done before.

I engaged farmyard animals in conversation on Beech Farm Road

It's now almost 2100hrs on Saturday night, there's a programme on BBC 4 about The Normans. I'm kind of half watching it while waiting for my fish & chips, which is in the oven, or so I'm told. My cycling week starts on a Sunday, meaning that I need to get up and go tomorrow morning and then get back in time to either take a drive to Hurst Green or to get back and finish off the lawn. The front needs doing too so if we end up on a drive there might be no time. I'm easy, though, so we'll see what tomorrow brings.

A moment in time...

There's only one way to describe the way I've been feeling these past few weeks and that is annoyed. People are the problem. I hate people who have something to say, people who want to pry and prod and people who want to control things, interfere where they shouldn't be interfering, you know the sort of thing I'm talking about. And it's everywhere. Busy bodies. And here I am, sitting at the dining table at almost 1830hrs when I should have gone out for a ride. Just a short ride. Thirty five minutes, that's all. But no, I didn't go because suddenly a wave of despair washed over me and I just couldn't face it. I was demotivated all of last week. The very thought of heading out there, heading off and riding the steep hill as soon as I turn left suddenly felt beyond me. It's not, I hasten to add, it's something I need to do quite urgently. It's a case of blowing cobwebs out of my brain and just getting on with stuff, getting on with being the person I kind of was around two to three weeks ago, pre-Covid. Not that I'm blaming the virus. The only thing the virus did was stop me riding for a fortnight. But no more, not for now anyway. All week I had planned to go out for an evening six-miler, but as the day darkened and I started to think about things I started to feel aggrieved along the lines of everything being pointless, never having enough money, the usual stuff. But we're not in dire straits, so it's not that, not really, it's just me and I have to snap out of it. The plan was to ride to Westerham on Saturday. The aim was to sit in the Costa in Westerham with a medium-sized cappuccino, but instead I rode the Washpond Weeble, which was fine. It got me out there, it kick-started my riding and now I feel as if I'm back in the room. It's Sunday now and in 10 minutes I'm off to Westerham to meet Andy and chalk up a 22-miler on Strava.

On Pilgrims Lane, about to turn right on to Rectory Lane... shot taken last week

Yesterday evening I listened to music. Wake Up! by the Boo Radleys might appear to be a happy song, but I don't think it is; there's something strained about it that spells despair, like putting on a brave face. I feel the same way about Good Enough by Dodgy and I'm sure there are others, songs that appear to be inspired by happiness, but are quite the opposite. Perhaps I need a walk. I'd take one if there was a decent coffee shop open (they're the new pubs in my world). I wonder what's worse? Going to the pub for a pint or visiting a coffee shop for a cappuccino and a Millionaire's Shortbread? Something else to fret about. All that caffeine and sugar, can't be good for me. But getting carried away on the beer can prove troublesome, you can end up wandering the streets at three in the morning, talking rubbish to tramps outside the Ritz or spending the night in a police cell trying to get some shut-eye on an uncomfortable bed, and let's not forget the hangover. "I suppose I'd better get myself checked out at the hospital, officer." No, give me a cappuccino and a cake of some description any day, I can always ride off the flab they're creating.

This Charming Man by The Smiths was on my playlist. "I would go out tonight, but I haven't got a stitch to wear." We've all had that dream!

All my low rent friends are dead (they are). "All those dayglo freaks who used to paint their face have joined the human race". Yep, I was listening to Kid Charlemange by Steely Dan. "Clean this mess up or we're all end up in jail, those test tubes and the scales, get them all out of here!"

Cappuccino, my new weakness...

This morning all is quiet, it is Sunday after all, and with the time at 0755hrs there's just five minutes before hitting the fresh air and heading for Westerham. Nothing, however, is that straightforward. Normally it is, but not this morning. First, the call of nature. That delayed me by five minutes. Then, when I finally got things together and hit the road, I stopped as I remembered I would need my debit card if I was going to buy some tea and a bun, although, in the end, I just had the tea. I rode home, found my card and then headed off again. It was a painfully slow ride, but only in my head. There was a headwind all the way to Westerham, which I thought had slowed me down, but it just made the ride seem endless. Even when I was on Clarks Lane the ride seemed to be going on forever. When would I go under the motorway? Had I already been under it? And then it came into sight. And even after the motorway, the rest of the ride dragged until I reached Westerham town centre and parked up outside the Costa. It was 0918hrs, which means the ride took me around one hour and 10 minutes. I thought I was slow because of my lack of exercise, but I was roughly the same as the last two weeks, nothing had been affected, although I admit that the whole thing did seem a little harder than it had been on past rides. The longer you lapse, Andy said, the harder it will be. He was right, but I was feeling in a good place. Yesterday's Weeble had put me in a good frame of mind and now it was Sunday and I found myself in Westerham, in the Costa, talking to Andy. Unlike me, Andy hasn't slowed down. Yesterday he rode a 60-plus miles circular route through Surrey and Kent and now here he was in Westerham looking lithe and fit and wearing a new Le Col waterproof and high viz top. I was dressed in an old, threadbare jumper from M&S, my hooded coat and navy blue chinos, under which I was wearing my cycling shorts. No, I didn't look at all streamlined. Thank God my hair was short otherwise I'd have looked a right mess.

Outside there was a strong wind, which, like last week, managed to knock my bike over. And, like last week, I didn't bother to go outside and pick it up as I figured it would fall down again. After about half an hour Andy prepared to leave. He'd finished his coffee and his teacake, but I was nowhere near finished my tea (I had a large English Breakfast tea). I watched Andy ride off and then sat there, in deep thought about nothing in particular. When my tea was finished I reluctantly rose from the comfort of my chair and headed outside to my awaiting bicycle. I rode off and headed towards the Velo Barn, which was closed, and then turned left on to Pilgrim's Lane, crossing Clarks Lane and continuing along Pilgrim's. I turned right on to Rectory Lane (see photo above) and turned left on to Clarks Lane, following the hill to the very top, close to Botley Hill. While I was tempted to ride home through Woldingham, I decided not to; instead I carried on along the 269 until I reached Warlingham Green, which I circled and then continued on the Limpsfield Road into Sanderstead, keeping my distance from parked cars. When I reached home I chilled for a short while and then took a drive into the Sussex countryside. Unfortunately, when I reached Trading Boundaries (aka 'the elephant shop') I weakened and ordered a Billionaire's Shortbread and a cappuccino, then bought a concrete Bhudda and drove home. 

Fortunately we missed a soaking this morning while on the ride. The rain came later and put paid to a walk I had planned around Sheffield Park, but it didn't matter. Later I drove over to mum's for tea and biscuits (Rich Tea) and now I'm back home awaiting Louis Theroux at 9pm on BBC 2. Outside I could hear the wind and the rain, it hasn't stopped since around lunch time.

Fog, footy and failing brakes...

The rain had gone by Sunday morning when I headed for Westerham to meet Andy last Sunday. The ride was pleasant, but when I reached my destination Andy was preparing to leave. I checked my watch, I wasn't that late, but he said he needed to be on his way, he had a lot to do, so we didn't get to chat. Instead, I sat alone inside the Costa doing exactly what I did the previous morning: day dreaming, people watching, listening to the chilled out music. As always, I could have sat there all day, reading the Sunday papers, perhaps, but eventually I departed, riding back the way I came when I discovered that, once again, Strava wasn't playing ball. This time it said that I'd only covered just over 16 miles when the reality was something like 22 miles. Very annoying. I rode back the way I came, and rode up Hesiers Hill (again) - it's easy!

Prior to climbing Hesiers Hill...

I think the problem with Strava on this occasion might (and I stress the word 'might') have been my fault. I stopped at the bottom of Hesiers Hill, prior to making the climb, and took a couple of photographs. There's a chance that when I used the phone's camera app that I stopped Strava and, because I did so unwittingly, I never pressed 'resume'. Hey Ho.

I can't hack a ride after being at work

As always, work prevented me cycling between Monday and Wednesday. By the time I reach home, riding the bike is the last thing on my mind; I'm thinking about what there is to eat and what's on television. Invariably I find myself watching the 6 o'clock news or The One Show (a fucking awful programme full of bland presenters who don't present any kind of threat to any woke people out there). There's nothing worse than political correctness and what it can do to those who try to live by it.

I should have taken the bike out on Thursday, but I didn't so I was left with Friday and it was touch and go. Eventually, however, I decided to ride the Washpond Weeble, just a straight 12.5 miles. I figured it was not worth worrying or fretting about it. The last couple of weeks had seen my mileage plummet by 10 miles to 60-odd miles, or just over, but now I was dipping further. Last week I only managed 54.81 miles, the week before it was 64 miles. But why worry? I resigned myself to lethargy and set off on Saturday morning to meet Andy in Tatsfield Village (roughly an 18-mile ride as I rode home via Woldingham). Meeting Andy on a Saturday was a break with tradition and this was because Andy had signed up for the White Lane hill challenge. White Lane joins Titsey Hill with Clarks Lane and it's a really steep climb. Both Andy and I have done it on many occasions and it's so steep that the front end of the bike becomes weightless and if you lose momentum, it's game over. We met on Saturday because Andy had done all the preparation he needed to do and was avoiding most hills until the big day (which was Sunday). 

Fog gives way to sun

I left the house on Saturday morning around 0800hrs in thickish fog. It was fairly cold too, but I figured I'd warm up as I went along. The fog persisted, but when I reached the beginning of the B269 I spotted rays of sunlight penetrating the murky greyness. It cleared by the time I reached Botley Hill and as I sailed along Approach Road into the village the weather was fantastic. I found Andy sitting outside Sheree's Tearoom (our agreed meeting place) and the whole thing was idyllic: sunshine, misty skies and warmth. I ordered a tea and we sat there enjoying the serenity of the situation, stroking an old dog called Sophie. After chatting about Andy's continuing veganism and other subjects, it was time to mount the bikes and head home. My bike, incidentally, is in need of a service. At the very least the front brake needs seeing to as it's scrapping and squeaking and I'm worried that a shoe has either worn down so much that it's scraping against the disc or that a shoe has fallen out completely. I could probably get away with just fixing the front brakes, but it's tempting to have a service, like last year, which has seen me through to now, a whole year basically of maintenance-free riding, thanks to Ross Cycles of Caterham. So my latest dilemma is just that: Do I nip down to Cycle King and get the front brake fixed OR take it over to Ross and have a service? Dilemmas, dilemmas! Either way something needs doing and Andy suggests fixing the front brake and giving the bike a clean. It definitely needs a clean, and fixing the brake will cost less than a service. Let's see.

Andy outside Sheree's Tearooms on Saturday morning

Saturday was a fairly uneventful day, but I did receive a text from Andy. He'd come off his bike, shortly after we parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road in Woldingham. Travelling around 20 mph he went through damp leaves on the road and came off, bending the bike's gear system and hurting his hip. The White Lane hill challenge was off, for Andy at any rate, but it meant our Sunday meeting in Westerham was back on so we agreed to meet at 0900hrs at Costa Coffee.

'Footy' - a subject we know little about

When Sunday morning arrived I enjoyed my usual breakfast (Alpen, porridge oats, grapes, bananas and tea) and then, around 0800hrs set off for the northern Kent market town. I rode straight along the 269, turned left at the Botley Hill roundabout and then sailed down Clarks Lane, the bike squeaking and scraping as it went along, all very annoying. As I approached Westerham I started to wonder whether Andy would be inside or outside, bearing in mind that it wasn't that warm. I found him outside talking to a man who resembed Doc from Back to the Future. The man wore a leather jacket and there were a few badges, one for the Sex Pistols, and other bands, but when I arrived they were talking football, not that Andy knows a great deal about the beautiful game and nor do I. Various names were mentioned: Jimmy Greaves, Peter Osgood ('he's dead now too', said I pretending I owned a huge encyclopaedic knowledge of footy when in reality I know fuck all. Fortunately I do know a bit about bands and the Sex Pistols so I steered the conversation towards Jah Wobble and Sid Vicious and soon discovered that our new friend used to be a drummer in a band called Lunchbox, but clearly he'd hit upon hard times. He's been living in rented accommodation in Westerham for the past 11 years, working as a taxi driver and having other odd jobs here and there, playing the odd gig but only getting a single clap at the end of a set. But he was a nice guy, a friendly man with his heart in the right place. He'd quit drinking about three months ago and I feared that he'd been advised to do so by his doctor. There were a few 'drinking stories', like the time when he entered a pub in Sevenoaks and a man took offence at his likeness to Doc from Back to the Future and started a fight. End result? Our new pal was banned from the pub, or something like that. Later, as Andy and I rode away, having discussed who his favourite drummer was (a toss up between Ginger Baker from Cream and Jimmy Hendrix's drummer Mitch something or other) we both agreed that he was a nice guy whose heart was definitely in the right place. As we headed up the hill, animated by our encounter with the man whose name we didn't know, I forgot that I was in top gear and that was probably why Andy and I were keeping together all the way up the hill, although Andy said he was taking things easy on his hip after yesterday's accident with the damp leaves.

Costa Coffee in Westerham

Some people have tough lives, far tougher than mine, I thought as I climbed towards Botley Hill. Our new friend, who doubtless we'll see again, possibly even next Sunday morning, lives in rented accommodation somewhere in Westerham, he was a taxi driver, ferrying the likes of Judi Dench to the Rendezvous restaurant in town, but I'm guessing that right now he's not doing a great deal, just about making ends meet I'd imagine. He looked a little down on his luck and I sincerely hope he stays off the booze. 

Andy and I parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road. When I reached home, Strava said I'd covered over 22 miles, which was good going for the first day of my cycling week. I told Andy I might try and ride to work on Tuesday and that got me quietly fretting about how many miles I would put in this week. Again, it's not worth worrying about and now, here I sit, writing the blog, nobody else in the house. I'm about to start making lunch.

Stopping bad habits

Despite missing my Thursday ride, it was a good week one way or the other. I must have walked around eight miles between Monday and Wednesday, from the house to the station, and I've continued (give or take) with my no cakes policy. That said, today I had a bread and butter pudding for dessert at lunch time, a smallish chunk of fruit cake round at mum's this afternoon and, about 10 minutes ago, bananas and custard. I don't know, I've stopped chocolate bars, despite one Wispa Gold last week, and I haven't bought a cinnamon brioche bun or a toasted tea cake or a millionaire's shortbread at Costa for over a month, I make do (quite comfortably) with a large English Breakfast tea in a tall paper mug. Mum's fruit cake, incidentally, is outside of the cake ban; I don't know why. Well, for a start, I haven't had a slice for a few weeks (no petrol in the car) so today's slice was acceptable, but I will keep it all on the down-low. There will, from this moment, be a desserts ban in the house, no more bread and butter puddings from Charlie Bigham, no more Bramley apple pie and custard and, let's face it, I've been off the biscuits for ages. Well, okay, those Rich Tea biscuits yesterday could have been avoided, but I'm fretting again, so I'll stop right now. 

My week on (and off) the bike...

It's Thursday afternoon, 30 September, almost 1400hrs, and there's a blustery wind blowing up outside. The skies are grey and the temperature has dropped, not considerably, but enough to make people start talking about winter. I'm hoping that in around two hours I'll be out on the bike, riding the Washpond Weeble, a 12.5 mile ride. With a bit of luck I'll be out on Friday too and then, if the rain holds off, a ride to Westerham will round off my week on Saturday. There is talk of rain at the weekend, but I'm hoping that 'abort' texts will be off the agenda. On Sunday, as long as it's not horrendous conditions, I'll probably pack a towel and get out there. In essence, I'm hoping for a respectable 70 miles this week, unlike last week's rides, which totalled just over 60 miles.

Westerham Costa, 2nd October 2021

So far this week I've put in over 22 miles on a ride to Westerham to meet Andy on Sunday. We did what we always do: sit outside and chill for half an hour or so before heading home. I rode up Titsey Hill again and then home via Washpond Lane, a kind of Westerham Weeble if you will. The outward ride was straight up the 269. On Sundays it's fine as there's not much in the way of traffic.

Damp cycling shorts

But let's get back to Thursday 30 September and my afternoon ride. It never happened. The rain started and my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet, cold and damp, so I stayed in the house, glad in a way that I hadn't been caught out as there's a chill in the air now and things are starting to look unpleasant, unlike in the summer when, I recall, I rode to Knockholt and it tipped down. I remember standing outside the general stores in the centre of the village eating a Snickers bar in the rain and then cycling along Main Road towards Sundridge Lane and then Pilgrims.

It's now Friday morning, just gone 0700hrs and a day of work looms, but hopefully, either at lunch time or this afternoon, I'll be riding the Weeble. In all honesty, I have to ride today and then head for Westerham tomorrow to equal last week's piss poor performance of just over 60 miles. Let's see what transpires.

What transpired was a pleasant ride through the country lanes towards Washpond Lane, but instead of turning right and following the usual route I rode the length of Beech Farm Road until I reached the 269 where I turned left and headed for Botley Hill. I rounded the roundabout and then hung a left on to The Ridge, which took me into Woldingham, down Slines Oak Road and then up the steep hill at the end, which found me back on the 269 and heading home, a total of 17.43 miles.

The weatherman says it will rain

It's now Saturday morning and I awoke thinking there would be rain hammering down on next door's flat roof extension, but no, there's nothing. In fact, it looks like a very pleasant morning as the clock races towards 0800hrs. The big question is this: do I risk going out? Do I risk riding to Westerham? Do I put in a quick Weeble? Or do I sit here, let the rain come and forget about it? It's a tough choice, but in the end I decided to head for Westerham, bugger the rain, not that there was any, well, not until I was safely ensconced in Costa Coffee sipping a large paper mug of English breakfast tea. It had started to drizzle as I rode past the garage just prior to arriving in central Westerham, although that word 'central' sounds wrong as Westerham isn't very big, it's just a sleepy high street and nothing much on either side. But it started to rain and it didn't bother me because it wasn't cold. I sat in my favourite seat looking out at the high street and the chemist across the road offering free flu jabs while you wait. Not for me. I know too many people who had a flu jab and then felt terrible for days afterwards, probably because they had the flu, so what's the point in that? I've been double-jabbed for Covid.

Cosy in Costa in Westerham...

Eventually I decided it was time to head home, but I noticed that something was wrong with Strava. It hadn't recorded my outward journey and it was all to do with something that happened yesterday when I was planning on cycling to Waitrose to do a spot of shopping. At present we don't have a car, or rather we can't use the car because there's no petrol in the tank. There's no petrol in the tank because there aren't enough HGV drivers to deliver it to the petrol stations and this, by and large, is to do with Brexit and a lack of drivers, most of whom have buggered off back to Europe where, of course, the conditions for lorry drivers are far superior than in the UK. That cunt of a Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, knew that problems were brewing back in June, but like with the pandemic, he dithered and as a result there are huge queues for petrol where most of the noise from the general public, no doubt, comes from those Brexiteers who thought the UK was something greater than the reality. We didn't get a trade deal with the USA (and rightly so). Just one look at Johnson and Biden must have thought (like most people would): 'what a fucking cunt!'. I mean, look at the man if you need evidence, he's an absolute wanker of the highest order and he and his merry bunch of arseholes (Priti Patel, Dominic Raab, Michael Gove and others) are in charge of the country. Anyway, no petrol. I know for a fact that if I attempt to drive to the gas station the car will conk out before I get there, meaning that the only option is to take a jerry can and walk to the gas station, walk back, fill up the tank and then queue for petrol like everybody else. But bearing in mind that the UK is full of ignorant nutters, the sort of people who believed that slogan on the bus that Johnson was pedalling to everybody, there will be lots of moaning and shouting when I arrive with a jerry can. First, if you're on foot, you can't very well queue in the road behind a car, so I would have to just walk past the irate drivers and, well, who wants the aggravation. My plan is to let it calm down, which will take a few days and then try and sort things out.

Chilling in Costa Coffee

Where was I? Oh yes, in Westerham drinking tea. I sat there for all of 20 to 25 minutes and just day dreamed, watching passers-by and listening to the chilled out music that Costa Coffee pipes through the place. The women behind the counter don't know the names of the artists because apparently the music is piped from some central location, presumably to all outlets, but all I can say is this: it's chilled. I kept thinking about one day cycling here with my laptop and spending time online, blogging, perhaps, eavesdropping on conversations, drinking tea and possible munching on a cookie or a cake. Talking of cakes, theoretically I could have enjoyed one today as my challenge was to keep off the cakes for the month of September and today it was Saturday 2 October. But I resisted, mainly because I didn't want to break the spell and get back to chocolate bars and cinnamon brioche buns, not to mention millionaire's shortbread. So the tea was fine and when it was finished I left the Costa and took a brief look inside a charity shop that had opened (or reopened) across the street. It was the usual scene: old clothes probably removed from the houses of dead people, odd bits of clutter and even old shoes. There was a pair of walking shoes, or trainers, my size, going for £7.50 and for a minute I seriously thought about buying them. Dead man's shoes, or not as the case may be, but then I thought, I'm not THAT desperate, surely? I'm not that desperate so I walked out empty-handed, mounted the bike and headed home. 

It rained all the way home

Because Strava hadn't recorded my outward ride, I set it to record the return journey and vowed to repeat the outward ride so that I could simply double up the distance and get the exact distance travelled. It turned out to be 12.08 miles from Westerham's Costa Coffee to my house, so that's 24.16 miles in total, not bad, certainly more than last week's mileage. It rained all the way back but it wasn't cold and if I'm honest I quite enjoyed it. The return route meant riding up the hill, turning left on to Pilgrims just past the Velobarn and then heading up the hill towards Botley, but not quite going that far. I had to turn right on to Beddlestead, sail down the length of it and then crank down the gears as Hesiers Hill approached. Hesiers isn't a problem, I rode up it without losing a breath and when I reached the top I followed Church Lane and eventually found myself at Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turned right, rode into Warlingham and then along the Limpsfield Road towards Sanderstead. Cars were still queuing for petrol as I passed the Shell garage next to Waitrose.

It was good to reach home and it was even better knowing that my original intention (of not going cycling because of the rain) had been completed reversed. Not only did I go out and ride over 24 miles, I beat my mileage from the previous week and it felt good. That said, my planned Weeble on Thursday never materialised, so last week, like the week before, I only rode out three times (Sunday, Friday and Saturday). The reason I didn't ride on Thursday was because my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet when I went to put them on. In a way I was relieved, but in other ways it was a shame as the weather was relatively okay. It rained, if I recall, around 1730hrs so there's a chance I would have been caught out, but that wasn't top of mind at the time. I just didn't go, which was annoying. Still, I redeemed myself this morning and that's good enough for me. Tomorrow it's Westerham to meet Andy and the start of yet another cycling week.

Lots of walking

One last word about other forms of exercise. I didn't ride the bike Monday through Wednesday because of work, but on Tuesday and Wednesday I did a lot of walking, on average around four miles per day. I might have said this before, but walking is far more knackering than cycling. When I come back off a ride I feel energised and ready for anything. I'll happily make the dinner and wash up, for example. But after a walk I'm dead to the world, as weary as hell and in need of a sit down, a lie down, even. Either way it's all good exercise.

Last week 70 + miles, this week just over 60 miles...

It's Sunday morning, 1128hrs, 19 September, and outside it's bright and fairly warm as we approach the end of September (alright, there's still just over a week) and the autumn sneaks in, or, as I call it, NoVisibleLycra weather, meaning dull and overcast, the threat of rain, cloudy skies. I've just returned from a ride to Westerham where I met Andy and we enjoyed tea and a chat. Things have moved on somewhat since the days of sitting at the Tatsfield Bus Stop sipping tea from a flask and munching Belvitas. We now visit Costa Coffee where a large English Breakfast tea (in a paper cup) costs £2.10; but it means we don't have to carry stuff unnecessarily, which is a big weight off of my shoulders (quite literally) as I used to carry a huge flask full of hot water, four tea bags and a mug. Now I don't have to, but I still bring the rucksack with me. That said, we've been talking about crossbar bags. I have one that sits on top of the bar, but it gets in the way. I was thinking of buying one that hangs down from underneath the bar. Andy says I can get a slimmer one that fits on top. In all honesty it's not top-of-mind, not yet at any rate. In fact, not much is top-of-mind at present.

The bottom of Hesiers Hill, Saturday 18 September...

As avid readers will already know, I love the Sunday ride. It's good to meet outside (or inside) the Costa in Westerham and enjoy the chat about routes and hills and saddlebags and things that non-cyclists would probably regard as boring. A big topic of conversation is Andy's planned ride to Cornwall to see his sister. He was always going to ride there, but has now decided to ride back too. Why? Because booking the bike on to a return train looks like more trouble than it's worth. If it's anything like booking a seat on a train, it could prove disastrous, ie somebody else's bike in the spot he booked or simply no space left. So, instead of all the grief, Andy's going to ride home. He's allowing three to four days and his first stop on the return journey will be a Premier Inn in Exeter. That's about as far as his return journey planning has got, although it looks likely he'll rely upon Premier Inn, Travelodge and possibly even Days Inn as rest stops as he heads back from Bodmin to Caterham. I have to say that I'm excited for him.

Ledgers Road, 16 September, on the Washpond Weeble ride.

My weekly cycling routine is starting to bed in and it looks (at present at any rate) that I can ride around 72 miles per week on Sunday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I'm not going to entertain the idea of riding after a day at work, it's far too tiring and besides, I can bolster my walking (and possibly even swimming) on the days I don't ride. My new routine appears to be a ride to Westerham (like today), two Washpond Weebles on Thursday and Friday afternoons and then a ride to Westerham (or Knockholt, the Lakes, Dunton Green) on Saturday. The longer I ride on Saturday will determine the total weekly mileage, which has the potential to reach 80 miles. In fact, I need to look back on last October and November's rides to see what I managed and whether I can achieve the same distances this year.

On Beddlestead Lane, 18 September, being overtaken...

On my no cakes or biscuits journey, things have lapsed slightly. Last Sunday I weakened round at mum's, but I've managed not to eat any cakes whilst on the ride, ie no cinnamon brioche buns or toasted tea cakes in Costa, and I've stayed off the chocolate bars completely, although today I had one of those yoghurt-coated 'Natural' bars, which I fear are just as bad. What I have been doing a little too much is eating bread. Today, for example, I've had six slices, starting this morning with two slices of honey on toast for breakfast (around 0630hrs) and then two more on my return from the ride (I figure it's better than a bun or a toasted tea cake), and then, just a second ago (it's now 1708hrs so let's say around 1700) I had a Marmite sandwich, but remember this: I haven't had any lunch so I guess I'm "quids in". However, I'm due to go out to eat tonight so perhaps I should have exerted a little will power (which I don't have where food is concerned.

25 Sept's ride...

I enjoy my weekend rides more than anything, especially the Sunday ride, and it was good seeing Andy this morning. We're going to sort out a curry (with Dave and Geoff) although we're not sure where Dave is: he could be in South Wales, but we're not sure. I plan to call his mobile to find out. Avid readers of this blog will remember Dave, the guy with the Harley. Geoff, of course, is the illustrious illustrator and I'm sure he's been mentioned in the past. We all used to work together, but the importance of the curry (in Whyteleafe) is that, back in 2006 we went there for an evening meal, Andy and I started talking about cycling and decided that over the weekend we would meet and ride to Westerham. It was the start of regular cycling together and we're still at it today.

One week later...

It's now one week later (almost) and I can't say the week behind me has been that good cycling wise. I missed a ride on Thursday and that's why my end-of-week mileage is just over 60 miles, a good 10 under my respectable distance of 70 miles. Today (Saturday 25th September) I left the house at 0730hrs, the earliest I've been out in months, and headed for Westerham in the fog. I rode via Beddlestead Lane and Pilgrims Lane, passing the Velobarn and coasting downhill into town. All the faffing around on country lanes to avoid 269 traffic cost me time. The usual one-hour journey that I take on Sunday to meet Andy turned into one hour and 20 minutes, I arrived in Westerham at 0851 and ordered myself a large English breakfast tea to take out. I sat outside, people watching until 0915 and then headed home again, following the outward route and even riding up Hesiers and then turning left and heading for Washpond Lane, 24.48 miles. Not bad, but as I say, 10 miles under my respectable weekly distance of 70 miles so I'm not overly happy with the situation.

Did I mention my Taliban trousers?

One thing I find absolutely hilarious is people queuing for petrol in their cars. Sailing past the queues on the bike made me feel great, on top of the world, in fact, as I picked up on motorists arguing with one another as they waited in line. It was even funnier when I heard this builder type (huge red head and clearly very impatient) shouting at nobody in particular, just ranting with anger as he waited for the queue to move. And, of course, the queue didn't move. Brilliant! He probably voted Brexit, which made it even funnier. "Bloody Europeans, coming over here and taking all our jobs, driving fuckin' wages down, the cunts! I'm voting for Boris because I believe every word he says and why don't we give the £350 million we give to the EU to the NHS? Good thinking, Boris!" But he was forgetting - he didn't know - that Boris Johnson is an obese buffoon, habitual liar, adulterer and all-round nob cheese, you just have to look at him to see that, what with his master race hair cut, his ill-fitting suits, he's no Churchill, far from it, and now we're all paying for the bigotry of the Brexiteers; and Boris and Grant Shapps have gone to Europe, tails between legs, to see if they can arrange temporary visas for the European workers they told to fuck off. This is brilliant news all round! Here's hoping the Europeans tell us to fuck off!

The great thing about bicycles is that they don't need petrol, just manpower - and they keep you fit. While I can't go out in my car (the tank is virtually empty and I can't afford to be stuck in a petrol queue) I've already been to Westerham on a 24-mile plus ride, enjoyed a large English breakfast tea sitting outside of Costa Coffee and then I rode home. Who needs a car? Not me!

A few words about hills

Just a brief word or two about hills, mainly to say that most of the inclines on my routes - Titsey, Hesiers, Slines Oak Road, even White Lane - are doable, but it hasn't always been the case. Now, after many years of riding and getting fitter by the ride, Andy and I are able to handle all the aforementioned hills, they no long present us with that feeling of trepidation as they approach. Quite the opposite, in fact; I've now started to take them on, ride up Hesiers or Titsey without thinking and slowly but surely get to the top. On Saturday, as I reached the top of Hesiers, somebody said something like, "I bet you're glad that's over!" Or, "It's easier going the other way!" People like to put in a friendly comment, which is great. And I always agree with whatever they're saying and continue on my way. Sometimes, though, I feel like saying, "Actually, you know, it's not too bad," but I fear I might come across as arrogant, when all I'm saying is that I've reached a certain level of fitness and hills no longer frighten me. Well, not the hills that I know at any rate.

Facts and Figures – yes, I've been monitoring my rides!

Last week I just about scraped up some respectability for myself by managing to ride a little over 70 miles – 70.34 miles to be precise. A couple of weeks ago, while on holiday, I managed 143 miles and would have put in a few more had I not missed two days out of my cycling week. Now, back at work three days per week, I've got to recalibrate my weekly mileage. Today, as I write this, it's Tuesday and unless I ride into the office tomorrow (24 miles) or if I push the envelope a bit on Saturday morning, I'll be game on for another just about respectable 70 miles or so.

Saturday 15 August in Westerham Costa

It's Friday. Yesterday I rode to Westerham in the afternoon. By rights I should repeat the ride today if I'm going to gain any kind of self-respect, although I'm thinking hard about a Washpond Weeble instead, which will put me in a delicate position, although I might improve on last week's 70.34 miles. It boils down to whether I want to 'slightly improve' or put in a decent effort. Yesterday I left the house around 1630hrs and got home just before 1900hrs. I rode along Beddlestead and then down Clarks Lane into Westerham, but rode back on the road towards the Velobarn, hanging a left on Pilgrims Lane and then later taking the Woldingham turn-off known as The Ridge. It was quite a slog after work, but I'm glad I did it.

The weather outside looks alright, no sunshine to speak of, but it's warm enough, which is the main thing. I'm not sure if I've spoken much about it, but ever since 25 April this year I've been recording my rides and since that date I have covered a total of 1,202.15 miles. I haven't been riding every day, but I have had a few spells of daily rides and there haven't been many long gaps between rides. My longest spell of consecutive rides started on 15th July and finished on 27 July when there was a gap of just one day until I jumped back on the bike and rode to Westerham and then, two days later, rode to Shoreham in Kent (38.63 miles). My longest mileage was 143 miles during the week starting 25 July and now, as you know, I've had to recalibrate to take into consideration the work situation.

Saturday 21 August in Costa in Westerham

The great thing about recording rides (and I don't mean on Strava, although I do that too) is that you find little facts that can be used to enliven blog posts like this one. For example from 25 April until 25 July six out of 50 rides encountered rain as opposed to 25 out of 50 rides that were blessed with sunshine (now there's a heartening statistic! Since 1st July I have covered 578.20 miles on the bike and overall, since 25 April (as I've said already) I've riden a total of 1,202.15 miles. Not bad going. In terms of rides per week since 1st July, and in date order, I have been on the bike for seven days a week just once, five days a week three times, four days a week and two days a week just once each; the two days per week ride was on the week commencing 1 August when I rode on 1 August and 7 August, the ride on 1 August was warm and sunny, but the 7th August ride was warm with rain.  The four-ride week commenced on 8 August and finished 14 August and most of the time it was warm and sunny. Generally speaking the weather has been pretty good. Over the period from 25 April to the present day I have riden to Westerham 25 times and experienced the joys of the Washpond Weeble 21 times. And let's not forget new rides to Shoreham in Kent, Green Street Green and Knockholt and shortly there will be Lord Chatham's Ride, let's hope that's all I'm building it up to be.

Weekly mileages since 1st May 2021

Week ending

1 May 2021 = 60.18 miles

6 May 2021 = 65.64 miles

15 May 2021 = 105.89 miles

16 May 2021 = 25.35 miles (only rode once that week).

29 May 2021 = 75.58 miles

5 June 2021 = 67.09 miles

6 June 2021 = 21.44 miles (only rode once that week).

19 June 2021 = 84.75 miles

26 June 2021 = 70.46 miles

3 July 2021 = 84.57 miles

10 July 2021 = 34.53 miles

17 July 2021 = 83.17 miles

23 July 2021 = 115.73 miles

31 July 2021 = 143.53 miles

7 August 2021 = 47.68 miles

14 August 2021 = 70.34 miles

21 August 2021 = 83.01 miles

Notes: it's worth bearing in mind that since 1st May 2021 there have only been two riding weeks under 30 miles, 10 weeks over 70 miles, thirteen weeks over 60 miles and just three weeks over 100 miles.

64 miles, thanks to the Dunton Green Growler...

 A poor week of cycling redeemed itself on Saturday with a ride to Dunton Green in Kent. The weather was wonderful and it felt great riding along Pilgrim's Lane. I ended up in Bojangles where a cup of tea and a slice of coffee cake made things even better, although my cake addiction is worrying and needs to be stopped. I sat on the green opposite the cafe, which is takeaway only at the moment and has been for some time, thanks to the pandemic.

The Washpond Weeble...

During the week I didn't start riding until Wednesday, but after two rides, the last one on Thursday, the rain fell from the skies for the whole of Friday, putting any thoughts of a ride out of the question. I managed a Washpond Weeble and a ride along Beddlestead Lane and then along The Ridge and home, total mileage was around 29 miles, giving me little to redeem myself. In a way I felt a little guilty for not kicking myself into gear, but then it was my first week back at work having enjoyed a week off. So, 35.90 miles did the trick, add the 12 miles for the Weeble and the 17 miles for the Beddlestead run and it added up to what? Around 64 miles, I can't remember exactly. If you read last week's post you'll know that nothing over 70 miles can be considered respectable in my book, but then I tend to fret about stuff like this when I shouldn't really worry about it. Sixty four miles is alright and I'll have to try to do better this coming week. I've got work on Monday and Tuesday this week, and by that I mean actually going into the office. I could ride in, but I won't, it's too much of a faff and I'd have to leave the house at an ungodly hour, ie 0630hrs and that would mean missing a mammoth breakfast, which has become a regular habit. I like nothing more than getting up early and eating a hearty brekkie, but now I think about it, I have to leave the house early so it won't be that mammoth and I won't have time to really enjoy it, less if I ride in. I'll just have to ensure I get a few shorter rides in from Wednesday through to Friday and then, adding a ride to Westerham next Saturday should give me a respectable mileage. It's all about a respectable mileage.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane

I love the summer, it's the best season of the year. No need to wrap up and wear a balaclava, no need for layers of clothing and no need for gloves either. I love it! And there's nothing nicer than riding through the countryside on narrow lanes smelling the passing cow parsley and the last few days of the bluebells that shimmer in the woods on either side of the road.

Summer 2021 is not as good as last year, but there's still time so let's not get too pessimistic. Last Friday's rain was a bit depressing, it drizzled all day long and while I thought it would brighten up in the late afternoon there was no chance; it rained into the night. But Saturday morning started with mist and gradually brightened up. Sitting across the road from Bojangles on the white plastic seats provided I lapped up the sunshine eating the aforementioned slice of coffee cake with my tea. The ride back wasn't half as wearisome as I thought it would be and soon I found myself on the hill leading up to the Botley roundabout. There was traffic on the Slines Oak Road that might have slowed me down, but even though the hill is steep I somehow weaved around the cars that were stacking up on their approach to the 269. I'm amazed I kept the bike on two wheels in such a low gear, but I managed it and then sailed home along the Limpsfield Road towards home.

On The Ridge...

On Sunday morning I left around 0800hrs and when I reached Westerham there was no sign of Andy. For a short while I thought I'd missed a message and that he'd rescheduled, but no, he was on his way. Soon enough he arrived and told me all about his 162-mile jaunt to Rye, Dungeness and the surrounding area. I felt tired for him, but what an achievement. Andy, if you're reading this, take a couple of days off, you don't want to overdo things, it's not good for you. We sat on our favourite table, me with an almond croissant and a paper cup of English breakfast, Andy with a fruit drink, a cookie, a chocolate cakey thing given to him by mistake and, well, it doubled as a kind of second breakfast and rightly deserved after all the cycling. We chatted about his mammoth ride and eventually headed for home. I decided not to ride along The Ridge as I had stuff to do, like mowing the lawn, so I rode the 269, keeping a weather eye on the traffic.

Woods along The Ridge

I've got my second jab this week, can't say I'm looking forward to it, but needs must and all that.

A short break on Pilgrims Lane on last Saturday

It's worth pointing out, incidentally, that this blogpost has been waiting all week to be posted as, for some reason unknown to man, the images you see never uploaded to Google Photos for an entire week. Today, as I write this, Thursday 10 June, the day of my second jab, I found them on the site and now I can press the 'publish' button.

The bike on Pilgrims Lane last Saturday

It was a good week on the bike, that redeemed itself with the Dunton Green Growler. This week is looking a bit dodgy. The weather yesterday was amazing but I was feeling down, demoralised, I don't know, and I left the house without wearing a crash helmet. I didn't realise until I reached Church Way and was halfway up the hill. I thought about turning back or pressing on and decided on the latter. When I reached home I'd travelled all of 1.79 miles.

Bojangles in Dunton Green, time for some cake!

I must go out today, I keep telling myself, but it's jab day and I think you're supposed to take things easy, we'll see.

Tea and coffee cake, Dunton Green

The cake must stop, it just must.