Lockdown, Part 34: To the lake!

Around three decades ago I bought a Supergrass album from Virgin Records (£13.99) and never really listened to it. The CD in question? In it for the Money. So I'm driving over to mum's and I've decided to listen to it, properly, in the way we used to 'listen' to albums back in the olden days. I remember how I used to listen to albums and how they changed as familiarity with specific tracks crept in. Well, here I am doing just that, but in a car. When I used to 'listen' to albums, it was 'back home' when I lived with mum and dad. I'd be in the bedroom playing whatever it might be over and over again, rocking with the rhythm and soon getting to grips with the good and bad tracks. But here I am three decades on, driving (a great place to get to grips with any album) and I've decided that the track Late in the Day is fantastic. In fact, while I say 'here I am', I'm not sitting in the car anymore, I'm now at home and I've found the track on Spotify. Let me level with you: I found the track on Spotify, I listened to it and now I've moved on, to the Charlatans, and before that I listened to Roll with It by Oasis, a top band if you ask me. Anyway, why am I telling you this? There's no reason really, no inner meaning, no hidden message, I've just been listening to Supergrass and found a great track on one of their albums. That's all there is.

The Honey Monster got there before me...

What's happening with the lockdown? Who knows? Well, the pubs have re-opened (I've been a couple of times, but to eat, not drink, apart from mineral water). Everything is opening up. In fact, I've lost touch with what you can and can't do. All I do know is that masks are now compulsory in shops and on public transport, although today (Saturday) I saw three people in Waitrose who weren't wearing masks. Very annoying. How come they think they're special? It's not worth saying anything, but they didn't look like people with 'special needs'. I think they were just waiting for somebody to challenge them so they could tell them to 'fuck off'. Something like that. But while things are supposedly easing up, we're hearing that a second wave is now a full-on reality we all need to be aware of; pubs, claims the BBC, might have to close so that schools can re-open. Eh? Why? It's all mixed messages. Johnson's going to try and tackle obesity, mainly because he's a fat bastard and nearly died as a result. COVID doesn't like fat people. My advice? Just eat fresh food, it's that simple, and it's cheaper than buying all that pre-prepared shit, which is full of salt and all sorts of rubbish.

Chipstead Lake, Saturday 1st August 2021 around 0925hrs...

I've done pretty well on the cycling front this week. But let's go back and look, roughly, at how things have been going since I got the bike out of the shop. After a week of no cycling when I didn't have the bike, I put in something like 64 miles, then last week it was 71 and now, this week, I've managed 88.15 miles. During the week I rode three 20-milers and I gave them all stupid names, like the Reverse Chump and Bastard - a direct ride into Tatsfield Village and then round to St. Mary's church, on to Clarks Lane, then back on the 269 and hanging a right on to Beech Farm Road, following the lanes round to Warlingham Sainsbury's then rejoining the Limpsfield Road (which is the 269) and heading for home. In essence I did this three times, with minor variations. The second ride I called a Slogger, Chump and Bastard and then there was a Beddlestead Chump Bastard Womble, all variations on a theme, setting me up nicely for today's ride to the lakes, which wasn't given a silly name (not yet at any rate). I've not riden to the lakes for a long time and as Andy and I have always said, we tend these days to ride to the lakes alone. Why that should be, I don't know, but it's true and I was there today, early and alone, arriving at 0921hrs and then just basking in the sun with the Honey Monster, just him and I, looking at the lake and soaking up a few rays. I brought a Vanilla Chai tea along for the ride and chilled for a good 20 minutes before packing things up and embarking upon the gruelling return ride. Make no mistake, a 30-miler to the lakes and back will take it out of you. When I reached home I made myself another breakfast. Having already eaten porridge and fruit around 0700hrs, when I reached home at 1100hrs, I added two Shredded Wheat, a slice of bread and butter and a cup of tea. Much needed. I'll be honest, I was feeling deliciously weary and tired, that lovely relaxed feeling that strenuous exercise gives you. I had a shower and then slobbed around for a bit, watching The Railway Children and then, around 1600hrs, going shopping to Waitrose, where I saw those three mask-less individuals.

Sheree's Store and Tearoom in Tatsfield village - closed when I got there!

I forgot to mention the tearoom I 'discovered' in Tatsfield  village on one of my mid-week rides. Sheree's Store and Tearoom looked rather good and one to remember for Andy and I when the early rides start up again. I got there just past 1700hrs hoping I'd be able to buy myself some mineral water, but no, it was closed. In fact, I realised that on a ride from my house into Tatsfield village, whether the fast or the slow way, once you've passed Warlingham Sainsbury's there's nowhere in hell where you can stock up on food or water so it's best to take stuff with you. It was hot during the week and I was thirsty, but I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to wait until I reached home. Thirsty work.

The village sign and the pub...

The lakes was a great ride, seriously good, so chilled, especially riding along Pilgrims Lane. I could have sat there all day on the green in front of the pub and was reminded of a ride I did with Andy back in April 2011; that was a hot day too and we all had too much to drink, but in a good way. There's a Harvey's pub in Chipstead, right by the lake, and it offers great beer and excellent food. I remember once when Andy and I rode to the lakes early one morning and the waft of bacon sandwiches from the pub reached our noses, but they weren't selling them, it was too early, so we simply enjoyed the aroma and then headed home.

The weather has been amazing, not just of late but throughout the lockdown. I took Friday off because the temperature reached 34 degrees Centigrade, the hottest July 31st in 200 years, or so they say, which I'm guessing is when records began. Perhaps not. Today it was warm, not as hot as yesterday, but very, very pleasant. It's hot now. There's a cool breeze coming in from an open window and outside I note it's a full moon. It's 2145hrs and dark. Let's not forget, we've passed the summer solstice so it's getting dark again in the evening, very depressing. But there's still a lot of summer time left, it's now 1st August and the year has been flying by and everyone has been stuck indoors protecting themselves from COVID-19. The virus has ruined 2020 and it's such as shame because it's been a real scorcher.

While the lockdown is supposed to be easing, in essence nothing has changed for most people. There are still queues at the supermarket, people are still socially distancing and while the government is paying people to eat out and encouraging us to go back to work, there's now talk of a second wave and another lockdown. It's all getting very tiresome.

Woodmansterne Green
Sunday was another hot day and I rode to Woodmansterne Green to see Bon. We had a good chat about stuff and departed around 1000hrs. The ride from Sanderstead is 10.59 miles and took exactly one hour, that's 30 minutes each way.

To Westerham - the long way!

There was no way in hell we were going out yesterday. Rain was promised for most of Saturday and sure enough, when I woke up there was rain hammering down on the roof of next door's conservatory (or extension or whatever it is). So I resigned myself to no exercise and later stuffed my face with venison and cappuccino cake and a few cups of tea. As the day progressed the rain lessened and all was looking good for Sunday.

Venison with mushrooms, pears and potatoes

Andy sent a text suggesting we ride to Westerham, the slow way - a first for us! I rattled off a reply, something along the lines of 'yeah, great, let's do it', but then I started to regret it. I knew I was going to have a late one on Saturday night and began to worry and fret and wonder whether I'd be sending an abort text in the morning. But all was fine. I woke up around 0515 and simply lay there until the birds started chirping and then I got up, checked the phone and went downstairs feeling surprisingly fine. Special K. It's easier than making porridge so I chucked a ton of the stuff in a bowl, poured in a bit of milk, chopped up a banana, made some tea and chilled before it was time. Time to get up and head outside.

There were problems. I need a new flask or some kind of container (or containers) to hold the hot water to make the tea. But not today. I text Andy saying let's go the caff, but when we get there the caff is closed and so is Costa, so we end up in Deli Di Luca munching almond croissants and these weird pastries filled with chocolates and almonds.

On the way down we talked about the Corona virus and then I noticed an Italian was sitting behind me in the cafe. What was he doing there at such an ungodly hour? Had he sneaked into the country, had he avoided being tested, did he have the virus? I was more interested in my almond croissant and eavesdropping on a couple of Lycra monkeys, well-to-do Lycra monkeys, talking about fitness regimes, among other shit. The cafe was busy, probably because nowhere else was open, and we sat there chewing the fat, talking about joining cycling clubs. Soon it was time to go and while I usually don't feel overly motivated about tackling the hill, it was fine and so was the weather: blue skies, sunshine, warmth. I didn't need the balaclava.

Nowhere else was open, not even the Costa

When we reached Botley Hill we stopped. It was time to split, time to say farewell until next week. Andy headed off along The Ridge, I rode the 269 and it was great. The sun was out, it was warm, there wasn't too much traffic around and soon I found myself circumnavigating the green and heading along the Limpsfield Road and then crossing the Addington Road and free-rolling down Church Way, doing no-hands and then coming to my senses as a car drew up in a side road. I turned into Morley then Elmfield, left into Southcote, right on Ellenbridge, left on Barnfield.

Tea, almond croissants

And now it's gone 1pm and it's Bon's birthday today, he's 59. I just finished watching Bill Burr, the American comedian, he's extremely funny, and now it's time for a fish cake or fish fingers and there's no mayo and it doesn't really matter.  Here's to next week's ride.

What a great day! The cycling was energising and to top it all off I watched Season 3, Episode 13 of The Grand Tour - really, seriously, television simply doesn't get better than this. Please watch and enjoy! Good night.

Woodmansterne Green to meet Bon...

People often ask me why I call my brother Jon, Bon. Well, there's no answer to the question, other than 'I don't know'. Seriously, I don't know, I just call him Bon. Next time I see him I will ask if he knows the answer. He'll probably say it's something to do with both words rhyming, Jon and Bon. It doesn't matter to be honest, I just call him Bon, a term of endearment, perhaps.

So it's Saturday and temperatures are going to soar to 24 degrees. In fact, to give you some idea how wonderful it's been today, I'm writing this in the garden, sitting under an umbrella and its 1841hrs, not far off 1900hrs. The sun is still out, the wind chime occasionally chimes and the trees sway slightly in a summer-like breeze. The main reason I'm sitting outside, however, is because I have a new lap top. It's an HP Chromebook and the battery life is ridiculously good. Normally I have to thread my charger through the kitchen window and use the extension lead in the garage, but I no longer have the old MacBook, it died. Or rather I still have it, but it simply doesn't work.

Library shot of Woodmansterne Green

Chromebooks only really work when there's a WiFi connection, but my WiFi is strong enough to work outside of the house, which means it's easy for me to sit outside in the garden blogging, as I am right now.

Andy aborted today's ride last weekend and I'm not going tomorrow (Sunday) but today I thought I'd ride over to see Bon on Woodmansterne Green, it's roughly 12 miles all in. I left the house later than usual (around 0800hrs) and rode the usual route, via Foxley Lane, where they are knocking down a lot of the big houses that line the road and replacing them with ugly (yes, ugly) flats.

It's a straight ride from Foxley Lane all the way to the lavender fields where I turn left, pass the gypsy encampment that's a permanent fixture (in the USA it would probably be known as a trailer park) and within a few minutes I'm on Woodmansterne Green. Bon rode down the road to meet me and then we both rode back to the green and our usual resting place by the big tree trunk that has been carved artistically into rough seating. Out came the tea and we sat there for a considerable time, enjoying the warm sun and discussing this and that, mainly family stuff, but also what we would do if we won the lottery and, of course, Felpham, our childhood holiday destination. It was almost 1000hrs when I checked the time and soon we were bidding each other farewell and heading off in different directions: me to Sanderstead and Bon to Epsom.

I followed my outward route home, but in reverse, riding along an off-road path and then joining the road just before the roundabout that takes me on to Foxley Lane. It's a pleasant ride, apart from having to climb the South Face of West Hill, but once I'd cranked the Rockhopper into a low gear, I sailed to the top and was soon heading downhill towards good old 'Barny'.

When I reached home (around 1030hrs) I sat in the garden and drank tea and then enjoyed a fish finger and mayonnaise sandwich on brown bread. Later, I drove over to mum's for fruit cake and tea in the garden, two bits, which I regret, and let's not forget the Fox's chocolate biscuits. It's got to stop. Seriously.

Anyway, right now it's still not 1900hrs - seven minutes to go - and I suppose I'd better go inside and think about dinner.

It's Easter Sunday tomorrow and I won't be riding, but I'll be back in the saddle on Bank Holiday Monday.

Great weather on Saturday, but blustery and cold on Sunday morning...

Is there any such thing as a good abort? Probably not, because the 'abort' is basically the termination of a ride, the cancellation of a bit of leisure time. Perhaps the phrase I'm looking for is a 'timely abort'. Although 'timely' implies of the moment and my abort this morning was certainly not timely: I didn't check out the weather, see that it was about to pour down and then rattle off an abort text to Andy. Far from it. Mine was, if you like, pre-meditated. I knew I was going to do it, although, admittedly, I hesitated because I wasn't sure. In the end, however, I sent the text because I knew there was a lot happening today and that a ride would just be too much.

Our bikes,  Beddlestead Lane, Saturday 30 March 2019

After sending the abort I jumped back into bed and then, around 45 minutes later, I got out of bed. The clocks had gone forward an hour. I had porridge as always and a cup of tea and then I messed around on the computer. Later I went out, bought a Google Chromebook, on which I am writing this note.

Yesterday was great. The weather was wonderful. It was almost like a summer's day. We rode the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, but never reached it. We cycled a fair way up Beddlestead Lane and stopped by the mobile phone mast on the right to take a different shot than the one we might have taken at the bus stop. We've run out of ideas at the bus stop, having taken every possible shot at least twice. We decided not to push on to the bus stop, but to stay put and drink our tea, watching the Lycra Monkeys exert themselves as we took in a few rays and sipped from our mugs of tea. I wonder what they must have thought as they puffed past us, exerting themselves unnecessarily, and spotting Andy and I, not wearing Lycra, taking things easy.  It was pleasant. There were blue skies and it was warm We discussed Brexit, quite sensibly, I thought, and then headed towards Clarks Lane, turning right instead of left. Andy parted company at The Ridge and, as usual, I continued along the 269, using the off-road path and then joining the road at the roundabout close to Warlingham Sainsbury's where I would later buy my Chromebook (they have an Argos store). We vowed to meet the following day, but didn't because I aborted. It was Mother's Day, people were coming over. Charged with the simple task of heating up a few pizzas, I messed up, probably because it had been so long since I last ate a pizza that I simply forgot the procedure. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details, but I will say that we only ate one of the three pizzas purchased.

Yours truly (left) with Andy Smith, who took both photographs

Sunday wasn't as pleasant weatherwise as Saturday. In fact, it was cold and rainy as I crossed the car park clasping my new Chromebook, but things started to brighten up in the afternoon. As I write this, the sun is shining.

I'll be back on the bike next week.

Great weather, but no cycling...

I've noticed that there's a lot of 'no cycling' going on. Sometimes it's been because of the weather, other times because of illness or tiredness or, as is the case this weekend, there's simply not enough time in the day and besides, Andy's not going either, although he did say he could have gone tomorrow, but I can't make it. So, all in all, it's not a good situation.

All I can do is have weird dreams about cycling. I had one last night that half way through morphed into a bizarre toy car race. The cycling element of the dream is hard to recollect accurately, but it had something to do with myself and a colleague from work, called Sam. We were out on our bikes somewhere rural and all of sudden something weird happened to my front wheel. It was as if the front forks and the wheel melted and I experienced a strange, disorienting sensation that culiminated in whatever I was doing becoming a race that involved a toy car. The toy car that I had for the race was small – we're talking Matchbox size – and it had no form of propulsion (it wasn't battery powered or radio-controlled, it wasn't even friction driven) something I distinctly remember feeling disgruntled about as I could, apparently, quite easily have chosen a toy car that was a million times better than the one I was actually using.

One thing I do remember is the length of the race: 27 miles for some reason and I had to push my tiny Matchbox car along rural tarmac, crouching down in the process. Eventually, I'm guessing that the sheer monotony of such an undertaking frustrated me beyond belief and I woke up, at gone 0800hrs, and noticed one thing: incredible weather. The sun was shining through the gap in the curtains, there were blue skies and cotton wool clouds and while there was a cool breeze it was perfect cycling weather – another reason why it was so shameful that neither Andy nor I was going anywhere. The good weather is set to continue, hopefully it'll be good next weekend when, Andy has informed me, he still won't be cycling, more's the pity. But if it is good weather next weekend, I'm getting out there, even if it's a short one to Botley Hill and back or, better still, an urban ride to mum's.

The old Tatsfield Bus Stop...

Stop press! The Tatsfield Bus Stop is back!!!
That said, I have some very important news: the Tatsfield Bus Stop is back! Alright,it never went anywhere, but the seating did. A car smashed into the bus stop many, many months ago, making it uninhabitable for NoVisibleLycra. The end result has been regular visits to Tatsfield Village. Not any more! Last week I was driving along Clarks Lane towards Westerham and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there were seats at the bus stop. My heart skipped a beat and as soon as I was able, I sent Andy a text. Just when we both thought the Tatsfield Bus Stop was never ever to have seats again, the council has done its job.

I've just got back from visiting mum – I drove there, it being Mother's Day tomorrow, and I have been reliably informed, by mum, that there's some fruit cake to be eaten, and quite a lot of it. Mum made the first tier of a wedding cake for one of my nieces – who is getting married in June – and accidentally dropped it on the counter top (not the floor, let's make that clear). The cake in question then split so mum had to go back to the drawing board and start over, which she did. So there's what amounts to huge circular chunk of fruit cake going begging. I had a couple of bits earlier with a cup of tea and I can vouch for its greatness. Here's hoping they'll be cake in the tin next weekend. Mum says she'll save me some.

So, no cycling this weekend, not a good state of affairs.

Bus stop and churchyard – and brilliant weather on both days

St. Mary's Tatsfield, Sunday morning

We didn't cycle far this weekend, but the weather was good on both days as we rode first to the bus stop (on Saturday) and then to the churchyard (in double quick time) on Sunday. It took us about 25 minutes to reach the churchyard from Warlingham Green, which was pretty good going. Andy had said something like 'heads down until the churchyard?' and that was it; we kept up a fairly good pace all the way and stuck close together.

The churchyard was very peaceful, apart from the hiss of the motorway about a mile away. The skies were blue, it was warm – a much better day than I had expected – and we sat on our bench and chilled, munching BelVita biscuits, sipping tea and talking about nothing in particular. There was nobody else about, we didn't even see the usual church people who turn up and potter about.

When it was time to leave the churchyard, I knew I had to get a decent shot for the blog, but I didn't want the usual stuff so I wandered over to the church itself and took the images that accompany this post.

The ride home was very pleasant. It was warm, the skies were blue and the sun was out. We rode up Clarks Lane, travelling west towards Botley Hill and then headed north on the 269 towards Warlingham. Andy branched off halfway and said he wouldn't be riding next Saturday (cue an urban ride to mum's perhaps). He'd see me again on Sunday. We'd talked about the lake, we'd talked about a later ride and a beer in the pub – and one day we'd do it, but probably not next week.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before on this blog, but I've been reading Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. It's a good book, but it's a big one (1,168 pages to be precise) and it's taken me around eight months to finish it, but I can now report (as I shrug a sigh of relief!) that it's finished and I'm now enjoying Long Way Down by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman, which is absolutely brilliant. Mind you, I enjoyed the challenge presented by Rand's masterpiece and will be looking for similar literary obstacle courses over the next few weeks.

Looking south to Oxted from the Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday morning

When I reached home after the ride I put the bike in the garage and then set about mowing the front and back lawns. After that it was time for an excellent home-made tomato and basil soup and then a drive to Shere, a cake and a cup of tea and then a wonderful walk in the surrounding countryside. I sat in the garden on my return, the lawn a velvety texture and the skies still blue, but wasps disturbed the peace as I sat and read Long Way Down, accompanied by a bottle-conditioned ale. Wonderful. It's now just gone 7pm and the skies are still blue and the temperature warm. Countryfile is starting and it's time for dinner – salmon. After dinner I might sit outside again as I think the wasps have gone.

Until next week, enjoy your lives everybody.