Round town top cranking...and other stories

I can't believe that I rode for 14.5 miles around local streets yesterday (last Saturday to be precise). I worked out a lap that incorporated the Norfolk Nobbler. Each lap turned out to be almost five miles and I did three. Fortunately, the weather held out. Around 0900hrs I headed out on damp roads and wearing full waterproofs, but the rain had stopped and it didn't start again until I'd finished my ride. I'll be totally honest, it was a really hard ride as I'd thrown in many hills. A true work-out. When I got back I needed a shower and it goes to show you how deceptive things are: I was well and truly whacked on my return, more so than when I finish a ride from, say, the lakes or Westerham, and it's all to do with constantly facing hills on the local rides.

But I went via Beech Farm Road...

Andy and I were feeling a bit gung-ho about everything and had vowed to get out there today, today being the Sunday after last Sunday, rain or shine, but in all honesty, when I woke up around 0500hrs, I peered out of the window and noted the rain hammering down on next door's flat-roofed extension. As I write this (at 0712hrs) I'm guessing it's still hammering down, I'll take a look at the bird bath in a minute, but Andy and I have aborted the ride, the first 'abort' of the whole summer. Very annoying. We're both hoping to get out on local rides, which means I might attempt yesterday's ride, or possibly two laps of it, which equate to 9.82 miles, so all I need to do is ride the length of the Ridgeway and I reckon that'll be 10 miles (8 miles short of what I'd planned for today, unless, of course, things brighten up). Somehow I don't think they will.

Let's go and check that birdbath. Hold on for a second...its a right shit storm out there. The birdbath is frothing with turbulent waters, raindrops are dancing in the puddles, but when I look out front there's nothing but stillness. That said, I still might get out there and do at least two laps. I've got the whole day so I can pick my time. But alas, the rain cavorted in the puddles all day long and now, at 2203hrs it's too late to go anywhere. Instead I sit here watching Michael Palin's Around the World in 80 Days. It's quite amazing when you think that, back then, in 1988, there were no mobile phones and no Internet and it all looks very old-fashioned, not to mention 'terribly British'.

Fucking flytipping bastards...

On Monday I headed for work, but not on the bike. The threat of rain loomed large for the ride back so I decided to take the train instead, a big mistake. It never rained (of course it didn't) and the sun came out and I can't say I was happy about missing the chance of a swift 24-mile ride. So far this week, nothing, not a single mile. Remember, my week starts on a Sunday and yesterday was rained off (see above for details). I've got until Saturday (10 October) to put on some miles. If I can reach 70 I'll be happy. Last week I managed 73 and I'm concerned that the mileage will drop as the weather gets colder and we all slide towards Christmas. I've really got to get out there tomorrow, but let's see what the weather brings.

Having not gone out on Sunday or Monday, I was glad to get out on Tuesday late afternoon. I decided to ride to Westerham, the slow way and it was fine. There was a bit of rain, but it was short-lived and light and didn't have any adverse effects. The ride out was fairly smooth, apart from some fly tippers who had dumped a load of old rubbish, including a door, on the upside of the hill coming out of Westerham. It's very dangerous for cyclists as you come down the hill, not expecting anything, but then suddenly come across it, no warning, and there are, of course, cars coming at you on your side of the road in order to avoid the mess. After dark I'm sure there will be accidents. I rode the slow way, along Beddlestead Lane and when I got to Westerham I loitered for a few moments, took some shots of the bike near St. Mary's Church and in front of Churchill's statue and then headed off up the hill. I took a right turn off of the 269 and rode along Beech Farm Road, turning left into Washpond Lane, right on Ledgers and then left on Church Lane, heading towards Warlingham Sainsbury's. It was a fairly long ride, 23.65 miles in total and I reached home around a 1845hrs, fired up and ready to make a prawn curry, which was delicious, and then I watched Midnight Run with Robert De Niro, a great movie that I'd never seen before. Hit the sack around 2330hrs and woke up around 0500hrs. It's now Wednesday morning, 0744hrs and I've got to start thinking about work. Incidentally, Strava informs me that I'm the local legend on something known as the Rugby Dash, but again, I don't see anybody pointing at me as I pass or taking photographs. "There he is! It's Matt, he's the local legend for the Rugby Dash! Hey, Matt! Can I have your autograph?" Nobody knows me, which is just as well.

St Mary's Church, Westerham

Wednesday afternoon and rather than hit the road on the bike, heading for God knows where, although I had been planning a repeat performance of yesterday's ride to Westerham, I decided instead to slob around and do nothing. I didn't feel like if I'm honest with you and while I kind of considered doing a bit of Round Town Top Cranking, like on Saturday in between rain showers, I didn't and soon the moment had passed and I'd have to regroup myself, think about tomorrow and hope that despondency didn't win again, not that it really won today, I wasn't feeling despondent at all, well, perhaps a bit, but no, I just didn't get out there, end of the story. And now, at 2305hrs I'm writing this and watching the documentary of the Rolling Stones playing in Havana, Cuba, a momentous moment for the Cubans and an exhilarating experience for the band. They're a great band, the Stones. I like all of them in equal measure and hope they continue to rock into the future. I wonder whether they ever thought they'd be still playing?

It's Thursday morning and I slept badly. It might have been that slice of chocolate cake or the fact that I simply ate far too much last night, but either way, I went up around 2330hrs and was still awake around 0330hrs. Not good. I woke up around 0630hrs and I still haven't looked out at the weather, although I'm guessing it'll be raining. Well, according to the iphone there's a chance I'll get a ride in this afternoon if I'm feeling chipper. By rights I should head for Westerham again for another 23-miler, but I'm saying nothing. I don't want to commit to anything and then disappoint myself.

It's now 1312hrs and the sun is out. There was rain earlier, but it might be good for later when I down tools and head out on the bike. The plan is leave as near to 1600hrs as possible and see if I can get some decent miles under my belt.

Well, the plan was faulty, or rather, not adhered to. I never went anywhere other than a very pleasant after dark walk around the block. Sometimes I guess I'm not in the mood and this week, disrupted by last weekend's rain, is one of those weeks and I need to resign myself to the fact. It was a similar story on Friday, although I had to drive into East London so any thoughts of a ride had to be put on hold. For some reason (probably because I was told as much by the weather people) I expected the whole week to be a wash-out. I was amazed to get out there on Tuesday for an evening ride to Westerham, but I did, and there were plenty of opportunties to have jumped on the bike, but I didn't take them and more fool me I guess.

It's now Saturday morning and there appears to be sunshine seeping through the curtains. It's just dawned on me that I could go for a ride and probably should get out there. Choices enter my head: a lonely ride to Botley or Westerham even or a shorter ride to mum's or to see Bon on Woodmansterne Green. Decisions! Decisions! I've just had breakfast: bowl of Alpen, a toasted teacake, a strawberry yoghurt and, of course, a cup of decaff tea and now, with the end of my piss poor cycling week approaching me, I have to decide one way or the other: do I go out there or sit around here feeling sorry for myself?

Postscript: a ride to the Velo Barn

I went out, rode a good 22 miles, the slow way to the Velo Barn. The Velo Barn? It's a new bicycle repair shop and cafe. The weather was fantastic and when I got there I ordered a cappuccino and a slice of lemon cake. After ordering I went outside and basked in the sunshine. The Velo Barn is technically in Westerham, although (equally technically) it's about a mile outside of where Andy and I usually go when we pay a visit to the Northern Kent market town. It took them a while to deliver coffee and cake to my table and I was on the brink of going in to suss out the problem, but then I realised that the place was choc-a-bloc with Lycra monkeys in full kit, loads of them. So I sat back and soon enough it arrived. They'd even stencilled a bike on the froth. The only thing about Velo Barn I didn't like was the fact that it wasn't a bike shop. I was expecting to see a load of bikes for sale, tyres, saddles, you name it, but there was nothing, except for a repair shop. Look, don't get me wrong, it's a great place to go on a bike and cake and hot beverages at the halfway point of any ride take preference over bike stuff. I'm not complaining. So I sat there and enjoyed the whole experience and around 1100hrs I got on the bike and rode home, it took one hour exactly, but only around 15 minutes to reach the Botley roundabout. I soared up the Westerham hill, even beating a Lycra monkey. All-in-all a great ride and I'm glad I did it as it boosted my weekly mileage to around 45 miles. Not brilliant, but good enough for the last ride of my week. My phone was out of power again, so the ride was not recorded on Strava, more's the pity, but then I do own an Apple iphone 5S and it needs replacing.

To the (ahem) Tatsfield Bus Stop (the slow way – twice!)...

I've just realised that it's Tuesday and I haven't yet written about the weekend's cycling. I don't know why, I just forgot. I've been fairly tired of late, weary, perhaps, is a better word: weary and pissed off for no particular reason, just a nagging sense of injustice and, of course, an annoying, murmuring anger bubbling up under the surface, probably linked with this shitty country and it's awful political classes. God, they've made a right mess of things, the Tories. Listen, I'm not going to go on about it, but I guess I'm like a lot of people, just fed up with fucking Brexit and Theresa May and Gove and Rees-Mogg and fucking Boris Johnson. The 10 o'clock news is on. Katya Adler is explaining that there's a lot of uncertainty ahead.

Flytipping at the bottom of Hesiers Hill

So this weekend we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, twice, and the slow way. On one of the days we rode down Hesiers Hill and found a huge pile of crap some wankers had dumped in the middle of the road. Who are these people? Fly tipping is becoming a regular problem for cyclists. Often there are road closures and I'm sure that they closed Hesiers Hill to traffic at some stage over the weekend. A couple of Lycra Monkeys were on their mobile phones calling the police. I took a photo and later tweeted the image, which was later retweeted by Andy, so here's hoping something was done.

It must have been Sunday when we saw the huge pile of crap dumped in the road. The weather, I recall, was pleasant, the skies blue. On Saturday there was drizzly rain, but we still went out because it was so fine it was almost unnoticeable. Saturday I was feeling really weary. So weary that I almost aborted. I'm glad I didn't. We managed to get two rides in, both around 17 miles. On both occasions, Andy departed at The Ridge and I rode the off-road path towards Warlingham.

Not much is happening, apart from Brexit and knife crime and racist attacks. The UK is quickly becoming the laughing stock of the world and I genuinely do feel ashamed to be British. Now I know how the Americans felt under George 'Dubya' Bush.

Andy took this shot of our bikes at the bus stop on Sunday

My bike is in need of a jet clean and hopefully I'll sort it out next weekend. Nothing worse than a filthy bike.

I really can't think of anything else to say or discuss. Oh, I'm reading a great book at the moment: All Together Now by Mike Carter, yes, he who wrote One Man and His Bike. It's a good book, but a little depressing as it deals with the state of the nation – not a good subject at the moment.

Freezing cold as we head for the bus stop...

I didn't ride Saturday, needed a lie-in after Rome, but I was up at 0600hrs on Sunday and soon found myself on the bike. It was cold out and I didn't have a balaclava or a scarf, which had somehow disappeared. When I say it was cold, it was brass monkey weather and it made my face ache.

On a solo ride on Saturday, Andy finds Bullbeggars Lane...

We rode to the Tatsfield bus stop, the slow way, but decided against riding down Hesiers and along Beddlestead mainly because of the risk of slippery roads and, of course, the high chance of falling off the bikes, like Andy did a week or two ago. Instead we followed Beech Farm Road to the 269, turned left and continued on our way, passing Botley Hill and then turning left on to Clarks Lane. Soon we were sitting down and drinking tea. I've decided to avoid biscuits, but not forever. Why munch biscuits after eating a big breakfast of porridge, tea and toast?

Flytippers closed this road, but not to bikes!

En route we stumbled across a Road Closed sign. It normally doesn't affect bicycles and we pass on through, as we did a week or two ago on Ledgers Road. This time, as last time, the reason behind the closure was the same old story: fly tippers. Basically, people come along, probably in the dead of night, and unload a pile of rubbish on the road – they're too stingy to pay for its disposal. It could be anything: old fridges, seat cushions, you name it. Once dumped, the rubbish in question then stops other cars from using the road, hence the Road Closed sign. It's becoming a common occurrence and it's very annoying to see. Sadly, of course, it sums up the UK mentality.

We relaxed at the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

We chilled at the bus stop, sitting on our gloves in order to keep warm and in the process warming our gloves up for when we put them on and head home.

Andy was going back via The Ridge and he won't be riding next Saturday. After saying goodbye I sped along the 269, using the off-road path. The council has recently cut the hawthorn bushes along the way, so I was risking a puncture. Fortunately nothing happened, but who knows what state the bike is in right now, in the garage? I might have two flat tyres out there, but I won't find out until next week.

A point worth noting is that signs have sprung up stopping us from reaching the cottage. Last week we found gates shut and on my way home along the 269 I noticed that our usual entry point to reach the cottage now has a sign reading 'No Bikes'. We've been rumbled!

After a ride in the icy cold weather, this is what I needed most...

I was so cold as I rode home along the Limpsfield Road that I started saying, out loud, but when nobody else was in ear shot, "Fucking cold! Fucking brass monkeys! Sausages! I want sausages!" I don't know why, but it makes things better. I couldn't wait to reach Sanderstead, I needed to get home and fast, I needed a hot cup of tea, and most of all, I needed sausages! I don't eat sausages from one month – or year – to the next, but this week I visited the Flowers Farm shop to buy some food (a roast chicken, the aforementioned sausages and a few vegetables). I knew that when I got back I'd make up a Full English breakfast and that I did. It was incredible and later in the day I made the roast chicken dinner – we ate really well, that's for sure.

The weather is getting colder, as promised by the TV weather forecasts. When I woke up this morning there was a frost on the ground, just like yesterday. We cycle throughout the year so at this time it's not as pleasant as the summer, for obvious reasons.