Over to mum's for breakfast...

It was another perfect day: Blue skies, sun shining, but cold. There was frost on the paths and on the windscreens of cars, even late in the morning. But I felt fine and more than dressed for the occasion.

I rode down West Hill, the cold breeze smacking my face. It was the only moment when I felt the cold. The rest of the journey was fairly flat, apart from riding up Hayling Park Road, but the Rockhopper Sport meant I could take the ascent in my stride. I passed the Purley Playing Fields, turned right on to the A23 and cut through the Grand Theft Auto industrial estate, emerged on to Stafford Road and headed towards Carshalton – and mum's house.

Breakfast a mum's: boiled egg, orange, tea and a slice of bread and butter

Near Wallington I was overtaken by a man on an old 1998 Kona, but it still looked good, all Kona bicycles look good. "It's my winter bike," said the man, when I caught up with him and we both powered our way towards Sutton. He told me how he'd been cycling for 40 years and then, having said goodbye, he was gone, turning right while I continued straight ahead. Later I caught a brief glimpse of him as a he crossed the road that I was slowly advancing along. He clearly knew of a short cut.

At mum's my breakfast awaited me: boiled egg, fingers, a slice of white bread (good quality bread), a mug of tea, make that two. Golden Shred marmalade – mum said it used to be dad's favourite – was offered, but I declined.

We chewed the fat. Next door's baby wasn't well during the week and had to go to hospital; mum always gives John and Marion across the road a bottle of red wine for Christmas; my sister has her Christmas tree up; there's a marriage in the family, taking place in Brixham on New Year's Eve; Ainsley Harriet (he's a 'celebrity chef') has a special way of cutting up an orange; mum's been taking regular doses of cider vinegar (1 tablespoon per day) since she was 19 years old – it's supposed to be really good for you, but I tried it once and it's really unpleasant. Mum likes the towels we bought for her birthday.

Frost on mum's lawn. This shot taken through the kitchen window

The ride home was fine. I retraced the route of my outward journey. There was still frost on car windscreens, the sky was still blue and the sun continued to shine. As I passed the Purley Playing Fields Sunday League football was in full swing. I rode down Hayling Park Road, crossed the A23, followed Jarvis Road towards the Upper Selsdon Road and headed south towards home.

It was a good ride, albeit a solo one without the usual on-ride companionship provided by Andy and Phil.

Later I drove to Handcross in Sussex to see Dave and his new gaff in the country – 44 acres of woodland and a lake. Amazing. Now I'm home, Strictly's on the television, Judge Rinder's been voted off. Later I watched a fantastic programme on Channel Four, Alone in the Wild. A man tries to survive alone in the Yukon. Scary stuff and he manages 50 days, but in the end lost too much weight through not finding enough food. What a guy.

Mountain bike in the mist... and I ride to mum's

Andy's Kona Blast on the roadside, Sunday morning. Pic by Andy Smith.

Andy was up early and out in the mist – he rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard – while I slobbed around doing nothing having aborted at around 0300hrs. At 0600hrs when I woke up I realised I'd made the right decision, until I looked out of the window and noticed the magical mist shrouding the trees. Judging by Andy's images (above and below) I missed out on a bewitching ride. At roughly 1045hrs I jumped on the bike and headed over to mum's for a cup of tea and a slice of Christmas cake. Yes, Christmas cake! And let me tell you something: it was fantastic! So was the weather.

Misty morning in the Surrey Hills. Pic by Andy Smith.

The signs of summer's passing...

Monday 29 August: Riding back from Westerham yesterday morning and Andy and I noticed the corn rolled up like huge, rustic old drums, slightly surreal in a sense, but also a sign that summer is preparing to leave the building – for some, me included, a depressing thought, as our bikes pick up speed, metaphorically speaking, and roll downhill towards Christmas and that Jona Lewie song.

Our bikes in the cornfield just outside of Westerham in Kent

We pulled off the road and Andy took the shot accompanying this post before we re-mounted and headed up the hill, me on my new Specialized Crosstrail Sport Disc. Earlier we'd taken around 25 minutes to get from Warlingham Green to the green in the centre of Westerham and had stuffed our faces, as usual, with BelVitas, washed down with a couple of mugs of tea.

We discussed many subjects, including casual racism, and watched as market stall holders erected their stalls in preparation for a summertime festival featuring live music, a fairground, chainsaw sculpture, Celidh dancing (featuring women with muffin top midriffs) and, of course, food.

Westerham early morning is an interesting place at the weekends as there's always something going on, somebody doing something in preparation for a fayre of some description: stands are erected, vans arrive, people congregate and then we leave and invariably we don't come back for the festivities.

It's been a long weekend. I took Friday off and today's Bank Holiday Monday. I didn't ride anywhere on Friday, but on Saturday I took the Crosstrail on its first urban ride to mum's where breakfast was laid on (boiled egg, fingers, bread, an orange and, of course, a cup of tea). Sunday (yesterday) was the Westerham ride with Andy (Phil's away and I'm feeding his fish) and today the plan is a bit retro as I'm planning a ride to Woodmansterne Green to meet Jon and then possibly we'll ride to mum's for tea and, who knows, another breakfast.

The Specialized Crosstrail on Woodmansterne Green...

Outside there is nothing but stillness, not even a breeze. Nothing moves. Yesterday leaving Westerham Andy and I both thought we'd get rained on as it was very dark, but nothing happened, things brightened up a bit and the temperatures remained warm. Today, it looks like similar weather and while rain, in the form of scattered showers, has been promised all weekend, I've yet to see anything or wish I'd transferred the mudguard Andy bought me from the Scrap to the Crosstrail, although I will be doing that sometime soon.

The urban ride to mum's on Saturday was wonderful. I followed the usual route, up Hayling Park Road, down past the vast expanses of Purley Playing Fields, across the A23 and through the industrial estate. With the Crosstrail, things are much faster, including the corners and I think I shaved a good 10 minutes off the journey. Mum let me bring the bike into the hallway (it's new and I'm being protective, like a mum with a new baby). I didn't fancy leaving it unpadlocked on the front drive, not that where mum lives is in any way dodgy.

Mum was in fine form as usual as she rustled up my breakfast. I sat in the 'new room' – it's been the 'new' room for well over 30 years, as I've probably said before – and I sent Jon a text, hoping he'd turn up on his Cannondale, but he had a wedding and couldn't make it. Mum gave me a bottle of beer and I've still got it in the fridge, mainly because I had two bottles last Sunday at a garden party near East Grinstead. I try to keep my alcohol intake low these days and I feel much better for it.

On the way to mum's...

Right now I've just finished some Weetabix with sliced bananas, a slice of toast and a mug of tea and now I'm wondering when I should text Jon to say I'm on my way. I'm thinking we should meet on Woodmansterne Green, like in the old days, and then head down to mum's. It's almost 0700hrs as I write this (0656hrs to be precise) and I'm engaged in idle chit chat about this and that, mainly the rubbish nature of Waddon swimming baths. Yesterday we went for a swim and it was freezing cold. Normally I get straight in, but not on this occasion. I had to edge myself into the water, like I did once in Cannes in October. There was no temperature gauge, but I'm guessing the water was well under the required 29 degrees, unless, of course, it's got something to do with the last time I had a swim – in Ischia. But no, it was cold, very cold, and not pleasant, although once in I did manage 10 lengths in the slow lane, which we eventually got to ourselves.

So far, so good on the bike front. The Crosstrail is performing well and I might investigate a more comfortable saddle, not to mention bicycle maintenance lessons. I'm also planning on taking it back to Evans for a six-week check-up, which is free.

Breakfast at mum's...

Today, the plan is to take it easy, possibly go out for lunch somewhere, but generally chill out rather than drive aimlessly around the countryside in search of tea and cake. Outside it's very still, but brighter than earlier. I'm hoping there won't be any rain before I hit the road and I'm hoping to see Jon either on the green at Woodmansterne or round at mum's. Knowing us, we'll end up at mum's.

As it turned out, I reached Woodmansterne Green and waited around for Jon before calling mum to see if he might be there. When I got through I heard his voice and he later told me, after I'd cycled over to mum's, that his phone was out of power and he hadn't picked up my messages. I enjoyed a mug of tea and some Crunchy Nut Cornflakes before heading home via the smallholdings, turning left on to the Croydon Road and riding through Purley along Foxley Lane, straight across into Pampisford Road and then through the side streets towards Sanderstead and home. Coming up the southern end of West Hill was far easier on the Crosstrail than it ever was on the Scrap.

Before bidding each other farewell, Jon and I said we might meet on Woodmansterne Green next week, but we'll see how things go.

Solo ride to mum's and then Andy and I head for Tatsfield Village...

Never listen to anybody when they try to put you on a downer over the weather. On Friday people started talking down the weekend. "It's going to be terrible this weekend," some would say and I'd be left wondering whether I was going to be riding out on Saturday morning. "It's going to be nice on Sunday," they might add. As it turned out, it was fine on both days and I managed to cycle alone to mum's (on Saturday morning) and then to Tatsfield Village with Andy (Sunday morning).

Boiled egg, fingers, fresh fruit, bread and tea...

The weather on both days was fine. Clear skies, a crescent moon and a slightly chilly air, but not chilly enough to smack me in the face.

I took the usual route to mum's. This time, when I got there, I opted for the breakfast menu: tea, chopped orange, sliced banana and apple, two small slices of brown bread and, of course, light conversation. We sat in the new room – the room that's not new at all – and outside, while cold and crisp, the sun was shining. It was a nice day.

Breakfast at mum's is always good. We spoke about a wide range of 'stuff': mum's next door neighbour is fixing up his house. He's been knocking down walls, turning the back room into a large living space embracing a kitchen and a play room for the kids and somewhere to sit and lounge about. "But he's still got a front room," said mum.

"That's what I wish I had," I said, explaining how our house is all very 'open plan' – it was built when the 'lounge-diner' was all the rage, but it means that everything takes place in the same space: watching TV, reading, eating, everything. Fortunately we have an extension. We call it the 'conservatory' because it has huge picture windows and a flat roof, but it's not really a conservatory, it's an extension, a room in its own right and it's where you'll find my bookcase and desk and a couple of sofas that have seen better days.

Right now there are hassles at home. No hot water. It could mean a new boiler, but with the central heating still working, it's probably not the boiler – some say that won't stop British Gas from condemning what might be a perfectly decent, albeit old, boiler. It's amazing how we all take so many things for granted and hot water is one of those things. Try living without it for a few days and you'll know what I mean.

The ride back home was uneventful and I arrived at 0908hrs after a decent enough ride. As the day progressed, the rains came, but I reached home dry and that was good news.

Sunday – Andy and I ride to Tatsfield Village
Sunday was an equally pleasant day, possibly a little colder than Saturday, but again there was a crescent moon and a dreamy water-colour sky to greet me when I pulled back the curtain. No sign of Phil, but we all know how much he hates the cold. The truth of the matter, though, was that it wasn't that cold, or at least it didn't seem too bad. I didn't really notice the cold until Andy and I were riding south along the 269 towards Botley Hill. My feet were cold, but other than that I was fine and I didn't have the balaclava either.

My bike on Warlingham Green

We headed for Tatsfield Village where there is a covered wooden bus stop similar to the legendary Tatsfield Bus Stop on Approach Road. Out came the chocolate BelVita biscuits and the tea and we both sat there discussing the European Union, admitting that we don't really know enough about the real issues apart from immigration and not being beholden to Brussels for our legislation.

I'm quite torn on the issue in many ways, but in others it's a clear-cut case; and by that I mean I'll vote to stay in because I like Europe – as a place. I like the people too and I suppose like a lot of people, I buy in to the view that it's best to be a part of Europe than on the outside. Also, I'm not a 'little Englander'. I don't subscribe to the view that by being out of Europe we can make 'Great Britain great again'. We can't. And besides, it seems to me that all the people that want out of Europe are, well, a little bigoted in their leanings. I've always maintained that nationalism is unhealthy and that's what the so-called 'Brexiters' are pedalling. Union Jacks, 'who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler', casual racism in some cases (we've all watched those pre-election UKIP documentaries).

Sign near Tatsfield Village pond...

But then there's TTIP – the Transatlantic Trade & Industry Partnership. Why hasn't it received any major media attention? Nobody talks about it and yet it's being negotiated behind closed doors by faceless, unelected European bureaucrats and it will enable big corporations to sue foreign governments for loss of earnings, among other things. It will also bring into alignment EU and American quality and safety standards – but which way will those standards fall? Will EU citizens be winners or losers? Nobody knows.

What about 'ever closer union' and that whole sovereignity issue? What about the Euro, what about open borders and immigration? What about 'Operation Fear'? I'm hoping that over the next few weeks we'll all get a clearer view on what it's all about, but I suspect we won't get anywhere near it. Ultimately, it'll come down to our views on migrants and whether we believe the bigoted, nationalistic, Dickensian 'Brexiters' – like IDS – or those who say we'll be better off if we stay in the EU, like the Government...but should we trust the Government?

Andy with the bikes at Tatsfield

Tea and biscuits finished, we packed up our stuff and prepared for the ride home. The sun was still out, the skies were clear and the crisp air was still crisp. As we rode past Beaver World we both commented on the cold. I said it wasn't that bad, but I did have cold feet. Andy felt roughly the same. We turned right at the end of Approach Road, headed towards Botley Hill and parted company on Warlingham Green.

Riding to mum's in the rain...

It's been a mixed bag on the weather front. While the temperatures have been mild, there has been rain and, as I walked home, without an umbrella, on a rainy Guy Fawkes night last week, wet leaves underfoot resembling soggy cornflakes, I began to wonder how the year has flown by. It's November, we're a month away from Christmas and I've still got loads of annual leave to take. It might have something to do with being constantly broke and in debt. In a sense I can't afford to take any time off as I don't have the money to spend on teashops and restaurants, and I have little in the way of motivation to 'do things around the house'. Besides, doing anything will require money that I simply don't have. So I work, I come home, I go to bed, I get up, I go to work, I come home, I go to bed... you get the general picture.

Cycling keeps me sane. Even though I only ride twice a week, I look forward to hitting the road and 'zoning out'. I've said it before: there's much more to cycling than pure exercise, which in many ways is the added bonus.

Mum on the doorstep...

The mild weather is strange. I have a Californian lilac in the garden in full bloom – in November! It normally flowers briefly in May and that's it, but mine is in full bloom. As I write this it's still dark outside so I can't see it, but I know it's there and when things brighten up it'll be good to see it. I've always admired the Californian lilac; I just wish I'd bought the one with the darker purple flowers, but it's a minor complaint.

When I woke up and looked out there was a puddle of water on the roof of next door's side extension, meaning it had been raining during the night. The lack of raindrops disturbing the puddle's mirror-like surface, however, was good news as it meant a dry ride bar the wetness kicked up from the road on my bike without mudguards.

Bare trees on Purley Recreation Ground, Saturday morning

Neither Andy nor Phil were riding today. Phil was shrugging off his sore throat while Andy had things to do. I could have simply stayed in bed, but there's never been any point in lying in and invariably I'm up by 0600hrs and sitting here writing something. Having switched off the alarm last night, I didn't get up until an hour later than usual and having peered out of the window I drifted downstairs, made some tea and continued to look out of the window at a rain-soaked garden, looking for signs of raindrops and finding none, although the potential was always there.

At one point I considered not going at all, based purely on the fact that it could rain at any time, but I had to get out of the house and by around 0800hrs I was in the open air, freewheeling down West Hill in what can only be described as a warm breeze. I was heading for mum's and enjoyed a very pleasant ride, which remained dry all the way.

Breakfast at mum's

After a boiled egg, some sliced bread and a cup of tea for breakfast I headed back. At first all was fine, but soon the heavens opened and within a short space of time I was soaked through. But I persevered, just like Mark Beaumont in The Man Who Cycled the World and eventually it didn't matter. It never does once you're out in it.

I reached home around 1000hrs or thereabouts. To be honest, I wasn't really minding the time as I usually do, I was simply riding, and whenever I leave the house later than usual, I tend to lose track of time. As I say, it didn't matter as the rest of the day was spent sitting around doing nothing and then driving aimlessly all the way to Horsted Keynes and back in the rain.

To Warlingham Green and then over to mum's...

I'd forgotten that Andy wasn't riding this morning and headed off around 0700hrs, having waved goodbye to Phil who was on his way to Devon for a week's holiday. It was a wonderful day, arguably one of the hottest this summer, with temperatures around 29 degrees Centrigrade.

Warlingham Green, Saturday 22nd August 2015, 0730hrs

As usual my first job was pumping up a deflated tyre – I have a slow puncture but have yet to fix it – then it was smooth-running all the way to the green where the trees sheltered me from the early morning sun as I awaited Andy's arrival, although, oddly, there was no sign of him. I had a distant feeling that he might not be riding so I sent him a text and sure enough, he wasn't going to be there – he was working and, as he rightly pointed out, he'd texted me earlier in the week. Somehow I'd just forgotten. I was getting confused with the week before when he had a dentist appointment on the Saturday, but would be riding Sunday. Hey Ho.

So I'd reached Warlingham Green and I had options: carry on to Botley Hill, the bus stop or the churchyard (where I could drink my tea) or ride to mum's and indulge myself with fruit cake and tea. There was another option: simply ride back home and accept that an eight-miler would suffice. But I chose the ride to mum's and decided to retrace my tracks back along the Limpsfield Road, taking a left turn at Hamsey Green heading down Tithepit Shaw Lane, past Warlingham School and on to the A22 towards Purley. It seemed like I was on the A22 for ages, but I wasn't bothered. There was a warm breeze and light traffic, but reaching the lights at the bottom of Downscourt Road felt good. All I had to do now was negotiate the rather tricky Purley Cross where the A23 and Foxley Lane and the A22 join up, but it wasn't a problem and soon I found myself riding the quiet, tree-lined Foxley Lane heading towards Woodmansterne, but branching off right near the lavender fields and riding towards Carshalton Beeches.

Tea and fruit cake round at mum's...

I sailed along, passing the Village Bakery and Carshalton Beeches railway station and then freewheeled down to the Windsor Castle pub where I hung a left and then a right into Shorts Road, under the railway bridge and then two left turns – on to Westmead Corner and then into Rossdale. Half an hour earlier I'd called mum to reserve a table at what I call the Grandma Claire Tea Rooms (mum's house) and soon I was sitting down, eating fruit cake (two slices) and enjoying a pleasant cup of tea.

Mum's having her fence done, but there are still two bits to be done and at present it's possible to see into next door's garden. It's not an issue and will be fixed very soon.

After two slices of cake it was tempting to ask for more, but I resisted. I also resisted a Kit Kat bar and a biscuit, but I did have a second cup of tea before heading home, riding up Alma Road, turning left on the Carshalton Road and then right up Cambridge Road, turning right at the top, riding a few yards of Carshalton Beeches high street before turning left and riding up hill towards the Village Bakery. I crossed into Crichton Road and then turned left on to Stanley Park Road. I cycled down to the mini roundabout at the bottom of Boundary Road and onwards to the top of Wallington High Street, past Sainsbury's and along the Stafford Road towards The Chase and that industrial estate that weaves its way round to the A23. I turned right and at the lights by the Hilton National hung a left.

The weather was wonderful, like a Texas spring, as I ambled past Rockingham's and the playing fields and then along Hayling Park Road to the A23 where I nipped into Jarvis Road, followed the Upper Selsdon Road towards Carlton Road and then hung a left into Essenden, a right on to West Hill and home. I was trying to work out the mileage – four miles to Warlingham Green then something like 10 miles from the green to mum's and an easy six miles from mum's to Sanderstead – 20 miles in total.

It was 10am when I opened the garage door and parked up the bike and a wonderful day of just lazing about in the back garden beckoned. We went shopping, I bought The Guardian and sat out back reading about all sorts of things: an interview with Jonathan Franzen (which I didn't particularly like, it was just, well, it was nothing to write home about). Then there was Tim Dowling. I like Tim Dowling's column and this week he was writing about his Greek holiday. Holidays are alien territory for me at present. Then there was Rita Ora's Q&A, all good stuff, not forgetting Nicholas Lyndhurst, who was born in Emsworth, Hampshire, discussing family life, and a travel feature about the Greek islands I remember visiting back in the early eighties.

It's gone 7pm (just) and Indiana Jones is on the television. Nobody is watching it. I can hear it, but that's about it. Indiana Jones and something to do with a Crystal Skull. You get the picture, you know the deal, and that's why nobody's watching it. Dinner beckons and then it's Sunday. I often feel as if I'm just sitting around waiting for Monday and another week of work, but there's a bottle of Rosé in the fridge and I've just enjoyed a bottle of London Pride so life ain't all bad. Looking forward to tomorrow's ride, I really am. Cycling is the best tonic there is these days and I sometimes wish I could just keep on riding, at least for a day or two. The weather's so good out there I'd like to camp in the back garden, but not in the huge tent I own, something smaller.

Somebody's switched the channels and now Would I Lie to You? is on. I can hear Rob Brydon's voice.

Hawker Hunter fighter

In the news: a Hawker Hunter vintage fighter jet crashed on the A27 near Shoreham in West Sussex killing a handful of people. The pilot, apparently, survived the crash but is in a serious condition in hospital. More bodies are expected, claim news reports. The plane had been performing at a nearby air show.