Thoughts on this and that...

It's hard trying to get back into the swing of cycling, especially now that the weather is closing in. We're in November, heading towards the middle of the month, but the weather seems pretty mild. Last Saturday I rode to Westerham and sat outside munching on a billionaire's shortbread. Yes, you heard me, a billionaire's shortbread. It was fantastic, so good that I didn't want it to end, but I started to realise that I'd been falling back into my old ways: no exercise for a start (or not much) and then the food. The snacks. The white chocolate cookie, the chocolate brioche rolls, the Wispa Gold, the stale cinnamon brioche bun from Costa the week before last and that's just the sweet stuff. I bought some ham as I thought I'd be making my own sandwiches for work, but in the end I couldn't face the ordeal of eating a sweaty homemade sandwich when I could simply walk to the caff and enjoy something a little more substantial. But I digress, the billionaire's shortbread: it was worth every penny and even now, five days later, I'm still thinking about it. During the week I raved about it to colleagues, under the mistaken impression that only I knew what a billionaire's shortbread was. I was mistaken, which made me wonder why I hadn't enjoyed one before. A few days prior to my Saturday ride to Westerham (I think it was Wednesday) there was trouble on the trains. Somebody had jumped in front of a train close to East Croydon station. The emergency services were dealing with it. For me it meant 'no trains'. I wandered away from the station in the dark and made my way to the Costa Coffee opposite the bank for a large English breakfast tea and a millionaire's shortbread. Fortunately, I had a decent book on the go: Dave Grohl's excellent memoir, which I have since finished. I sat in the Costa reading it and then moseyed on back to the station and jumped on a train. The problem had been sorted out.

Night sets in early

It starts to get dark around 4.30pm. I started thinking about riding the bike into work and while the morning ride would be fine, for a while at least, the return journey would be a race against time. It takes around one hour and 15 minutes to ride to work and roughly the same going the other way, so I'd be home around 5.15 and would probably be riding in the dark for roughly half of the ride. I can't say the idea appealed to me and I don't remember doing much in the way of night riding last year, apart from the odd Norfolk Nobbler, talking of which, I did one today, a 7.30-mile ride. It's always a bit of a work-out riding the Nobbler, thanks to the hills, but I always feel good when I get home. I went out around 1345hrs and the ride was around 40 minutes in duration. A good way of bumping up the weekly mileage is to ride short distances, like the Nobbler, and while fairly easy on a Thursday and Friday (when I'm working from home) it's a little more difficult on a work day. Would I be motivated enough to ride at 0600hrs before eating any breakfast? Well, I wouldn't get any time for my Alpen and fruit as when I get home it'll be time for walking to the station to catch my morning train. I should really stick to Washpond Weebles on Thursday and Friday lunch time, but today's exercise was to determine the mileage of a Norfolk Nobbler with a view to riding one every day. Big thoughts! But I know only too well that when I wake up in the morning the last thing I want to do is get on the bike without drinking tea, munching toast and eating my Alpen and fresh fruits. It's just not going to happen. Actually, I really must get my act together; what with the aforementioned chocolate bars, cookies and billionaire's shortbreads, I must seriously slap myself into shape. For most of October I avoided the cakes and while I've only just started to weaken, I must stop it. That stale cinnamon brioche bun from Westerham Costa last week put me off, making me wonder at the time why I even bothered. Perhaps I should have taken it back.

More mid-week Washpond Weebles are needed

It's Friday and if there's any justice in the world I should be looking at a Washpond Weeble at lunch time. Right now, as I write this, it's breakfast time and today I admit I went over the top: in addition to my bowl of Alpen and porridge oats topped with blueberries, grapes, raspberries and sliced banana, I enjoyed two slices of toast with honey AND a couple of fried eggs on two pieces of toast. I'm thinking about another cup of tea as I write this.

Rain stops play

Friday brought rain and in the end I didn't go out so it all rested on Saturday, but instead of my usual ride to Westerham, I rode a 9.72-mile 'special edition' Norfolk Nobbler, a local ride extraordinaire (basically three loops of the Norfolk Avenue/Arundel Avenue/Ridgeway route). Last Sunday I started my week as usual with a ride to the Northern Kent market town, which is my long-winded way of avoiding using 'Westerham' twice in the same paragraph, but now, of course, I've done just that. So my weekly total was around 38 miles (one 21-miler, one 7.20-miler and a 9.72-miler, you do the math).

Billionaire's shortbread in Costa Coffee

I love coffee shops

Coffee shops have taken the place of pubs in my world. While, in the dim and distant past, a pint and a cigarette used to be my idea of relaxation (it never ended well) I now prefer sitting in Caffe Nero or Costa with a large cappuccino or an English breakfast tea. Alcohol never did me any favours, quite the opposite, and now, four years after giving it up, I found myself in Caterham, home of Ross Cycles, sitting in a Caffe Nero (I think it's the best brand around) reading a new book, Willy Vlautin's The Night Always Comes, his sixth novel (I've read them all). A couple of weeks ago, when I walked from Ross Cycles to Caterham railway station after dropping off my bike for its silver service (click here and here for more details) I stopped off at the Caffe Nero for a large cappuccino and a slice of cake. It was chilled and cosy. Yesterday I found myself alone in the house and decided to jump on a train to Caterham and head back there, book in tow. Again, I ordered a large cappuccino and this time a millionaire's shortbread. There's a tinsel Christmas tree at the front of the store, making it that little bit more cosy. I loved it and I sat there reading until I'd finished my coffee and cake. I found myself on the 1450hrs train back to Purley Oaks from where I walked home.

Sunday: the start of my cycling week

And now it's Sunday morning, almost 0700hrs. I've been up since 0600hrs and managed to listen to Radio Four's Something Understood (I'm guessing the subject was commemoration). I've since switched to the World Service and I'm guessing the news is about to be broadcast. Time to hear more about what is essentially a climb-down on climate change now that COP 26 has come to an end. I'm about to listen to Weekend with Celia Hatton. Coal is being phased down, not phased out, thanks to India, but who can blame them? We've had our industrial revolution, let them have theirs. I just hope that industry worldwide continues with its plans to reduce emissions. I know for a fact that the global steel industry is doing more than its bit to reduce emissions.

But enough of all this. There's around 30 minutes before I need to ride to Westerham to meet Andy and start my cycling week. Hopefully I'll be able to put in some decent mileage this coming week.

Notes from the ride...

The ride in itself was absolutely fine. I rode the standard route along the 269 and down Clarks Lane and when I arrived Andy was inside the Costa drinking a large Americano. He was halfway through a toasted tea cake. There was a long queue and everybody was ordering complicated drinks so I decided to wait it out and chat with Andy before getting up and ordering my English breakfast tea. But the queue never quietened down and in the end Andy left and I had a dilemma on my hands: queue up again or just ride home. I started to queue again, but immediately got annoyed with the whole situation and decided to ride home. I considered the Tudor Tea Rooms, but what was the point? I rode towards the Velo Barn, turned left on to Pilgrim's Lane and then crossed Clarks Lane and followed Pilgrims Lane to Rectory Lane where I turned right and joined Clarks Lane again but a little further up the hill. Loads of stuff was going through my mind. Do I take The Ridge into Woldingham? Do I take Beddlestead Lane and Hesiers Hill? Do I take Beech Farm Road and Washpond Lane? Nothing appealed and I felt I wasn't quite ready or motivated enough to tackle any big hill. This has plenty to do with being overworked. Instead I rode the 269 and reached home around a quarter to eleven (1045hrs). We slobbed for a while, had burgers for lunch and then headed out for a drive to Ightham Mote where I (foolishly) ordered a large cappuccino and a gooey mince pie. I can't say I really enjoyed either of them and vowed there and then to stop cake, biscuits, bread and cappuccinos. On the bread front, no more than three slices a day. Dinner was a light pasta dish with a tasty tomato-based source, home-made, the perfect end to the weekend. Tilly Ramsay survived another dance-off in Strictly.

"Plans that either came to naught..."

 Arguably one of the best songs ever written was Time by Pink Floyd on their Dark Side of the Moon album. The headline of this article is taken from the lyrics. It's relevant because this week I had great plans for daily exercise, but they were thwarted by 'stuff', they were plans that came to naught.

I now have to work three days a week away from home, meaning I get up at the crack of dawn to be at my desk by 0800hrs. To achieve this, the best bet is to walk from my house to Purley station, that's around 2.5 miles and takes me something like 40 minutes. There's a train at 0734hrs, which means I need to leave the house before 0700hrs to have any chance of catching it; and there's also a high probability that the train will be cancelled. I can do the whole thing around 30 minutes later, catching instead the 0804hrs train and being at my desk around 0830hrs.

Cutting down on bread led to me to a chilli jacket potato at the caff.

Before leaving the house I need to eat breakfast, so any thought of riding before I eat is just crazy. I'd have to get up at 0500hrs, leave the house by 0530hrs and then I'd get back around 0645 (when I should be leaving the house to catch the 0734. If I hung around for the 0804hrs train there would be a window of around 15 to 20 minutes to eat breakfast and get showered, unless I changed my routine and showered and shaved the night before, but that's always a bit hit and miss. The only way to get a ride in between Monday and Wednesday is to do it in the evening after returning from work and while that's possible, as the nights draw in and the clocks go back it's going to be out of the question: cycling is not without its dangers, we all know that, but night riding just adds to the problem. 

This sickly bun in Filtr made me rethink what I was eating.

Let's face it, we've got rain, snow and cold weather to look forward to, plus dark nights and dark mornings and it's going to drag on for months. I hate it. The only way, possibly, to get a ride in while working is to ride to work, but for how long? The clocks go back next month. I need to check what kind of cycling I was doing last winter and that might help me plan for the next six months. Last winter I seemed to be fine in October, but things sloped off a bit in November, there's a lot of 'If I ride after work then I might put in a respectable mileage' and indications that weekly mileage nose-dived to under 50 miles, thwarted by the rain, and this post in November 2020 rather sums it up (click here), the headline reads 'Not riding as much...'. It all makes me wonder what I should do. That November post suggests I shouldn't fret about it so I'll do my best on that front. I've thought about joining a gym or starting swimming again or just blending walking with cycling. 

The bike outside of Filtr, Sanderstead

On the positive side, winters are fairly mild and last year I was riding to the Velobarn late in the year and sitting outside with a cappuccino reading Consider This, by the author of Fight Club (Chuck Palahniuk) - a book I found very inspiring - so I mustn't lose hope on this, I've just got to get in as many rides as possible, increase the walking and possibly even look at swimming, although I think I'll hold out on the winter being mild (thanks to global warming!). Andy talks about buying some kind of contraption, hooking it up on the old Kona and then working out in the garage when it's raining. It's not a bad idea, although 'the old Kona' is in a severe state of disrepair. I think I'll maintain as positive an attitude as is humanely possible, get out there as often as I can and try to do local rides, like the Norfolk Nobbler.

Looking at last December's rides, I managed a trip to Sevenoaks so things weren't too bad (click here for more). 

This week, the long and the short of it was this: I had intended to ride daily, but things got in the way. Monday was the first day back at work so the whole 'ride to work' thing was out of the question (too much to carry). However, I took Monday off so you might think getting a ride in would be a piece of cake, no sir! For a start, I took the day off for a reason: to paint the bathroom. I thought I'd get it all done by around 4pm and then I'd scoot off for a ride to Westerham, but it was not to be. Why? Because I was still hard at it around 6pm and, as usual, there was all the clearing up to do and washing the brushes. In short, I never had the time to do anything else.  The plan was then to start on Tuesday, but that wasn't to be either (I went out for a meal (at Cucina, Oxted) and was picked up at Purley station, no chance of a ride). Wednesday? Nope, just being at work put paid to that and I didn't leave at 4pm (I never do). So it was all down to Thursday and Friday and thank God I did that, I rode the Washpond Weeble on both days and, as I write this I'm about to embark upon a ride to Westerham; I should be able to put in respectable weekly mileage. But listen, it's not to do with now, it's to do with the coming weeks when the days draw in, the temperature drops and the heavens open. I guess I'm just going to have to deal with it. The truth of the matter is pretty simple: stop moaning and get on with it (as my dad used to say). Incidentally, it would have been dad's 92nd birthday last week (8 September).

I ought to explain the photographs

The first one, of chilli con carne on top of a jacket potato was my lunch at the caff during the week. Last Sunday while chilling in Costa Coffee in Westerham, Andy and I spoke about dieting and exercise and I said I was going to stop eating bread and buns. Well, I kept up the buns and I won't be having one later when I arrive in Westerham on my Saturday morning ride, but I weakened on the bread (yesterday, Friday) and I had toast and honey for breakfast this morning. However, the odd bit of bread is fine. I also had a couple of cheese rolls for lunch yesterday. No, the key thing is not to eat cakes and so far I've managed, in fact I don't see there being a problem. So the chilli con carne and jacket potato was instead of my usual chicken fillet baguette and yes, I know, I would have been far better off with the chicken baguette. The next photograph, the one of the bun and the cup of tea in Filtr in Sanderstead High Street, was taken after a Washpond Weeble last week the week before last. The bun was so sticky and awful that it prompted me to weigh myself the following morning. I was 13 stone! Shite! 13 stone! That realisation led to the diet conversation with Andy last Sunday and during the week just past I did well, trying not to eat in between meals (but that was another reason for that jacket and chilli: I hadn't nibbled biscuits or anything so I figured a decent lunch would prevent me snacking in the afternoon. I hasten to add that my stomach felt a little dodgy after that chilli. The shot of the bike outside of Filtr is just that, nothing special, just saying, perhaps, that I had just rode the Weeble, perhaps a justification for the bun, but there's no justification for the bun at all and that's why, for the past week, just over, I've stopped cakes and biscuits and wrapped chocolate bars (like Twix, Wispa, Twirl etc).

This morning I rode the slow way to Westerham, following Beddlestead Lane and then branching off of Clarks Lane and on to Pilgrims Lane. I turned right on Westerham Hill and followed the road into town where I stopped at the Costa, took a seat by the window and sat there gently sipping my large English Breakfast tea while listening to the chilled out music being piped through the sound system, so relaxing. I didn't want to get back on the bike, but I did, riding back the way I came and turning left on to Pilgrims Lane. I followed Clarks Lane to the Botley Hill roundabout, hung a left on The Ridge and rode through Woldingham, tackling with ease the steep hill at the 269 end of Slines Oak Road and then riding into Warlingham and then Sanderstead and home. It's now just gone 1pm, I'm alone in the house just finishing off this blogpost, which I'd earlier checked on my iphone while in Costa and found it wanting. Hopefully it now reads fine.

A strange dream, yes, but I managed 84.75 miles this week, not bad!

A strange dream last night and very vivid. I was in the house of a very rich person and was engaged in some kind of game, I'm not exactly sure, but we were in a large space with a glass roof, possibly a very big conservatory and we were in what must have been water that was covered with white rose petals, up to our necks in it; I say 'we' because I was not alone. Sir Richard Branson was one of the guests and so was veteran newsman Harold Evans, plus myself and I can't recall anybody else. I was intrigued about Evans' presence, not because he's dead, but because there was a connection between him and my father and I wanted to ask him if he remembered dad. I never got the chance. Branson, incidentally, must have been fully submerged in the water because he broke the surface with a toothy smile and then we all sort of sat there not really saying a great deal. The next scene was outside somewhere, presumably in the grounds of the huge house in which this strange situation took place. I was walking along, possibly crossing a bridge over water or even simply walking along a concrete path bordered by a low wall behind which there was water, possibly a lake of some sort. Robert de Niro was leaning against the wall, but just before we engaged with one another a man started to attempt tripping me up from behind. He didn't succeed, but at one point he grabbed me by the short and curlies, said something offensive and then moved on. He was an older man with broad shoulders and farmers' clothes, a brown jacket, possibly corduroy trousers, the details are sketchy, but he passed by and soon I was telling Robert de Niro what had happened, pointing the man out as he strode away from us and disappeared. We walked in the man's direction, not with any intention of chasing him. We turned right and I heard myself saying, "So, how's it all going on the sartorial elegance front?" A strange question to ask, but one he answered without hesitation. He said he was fine and had seemingly taken my advice, but what I might have advised him I simply don't know. When he had gone I found myself approaching a young woman who I mistook for Harold Evans' wife, but she was far too young for that and pointed me elsewhere. Once again, my true aim was to ask Evans if he remembered my dad and I probably thought that by finding his wife I might stand a chance, but it wasn't to be. Lastly, prior to waking up, I was somewhere else and while something was going on, I can't remember exactly what. It was 0600hrs, it was raining outside (or about to) and a day of work lay ahead of me.

Tea and cake, Tudor Rose, Westerham

I'd had a fairly good week on the bike, unlike the previous week when I did absolutely no cycling, apart from the Sunday ride with Andy. Why I don't know, but after my jab on Thursday (not last week, the week before) I felt a little weary and didn't even go last Saturday, so my weekly total was something like 22 miles or thereabouts. This past week, however,  has been far better. On the Sunday just past (13 June) I rode into to Westerham to meet Andy. We sat on the green as usual, chatted about this and that, watched a few Harley Davidsons roll by and then rode home, parting at the top of Slines Oak Road in Woldingham. I then rode down the hill, up the other side and home. Fortunately I was motivated enough on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to ride three Washpond Weebles, but on Thursday there was rain, loads of it, all day long, and more is promised according to the weather people. I would like to ride today, Friday (18 June) and then again on Saturday (19 June), but my current total is just under 60 miles so even if I don't ride today and manage to get a ride in on Saturday, my weekly total will hover over 80 miles, which is a result. Right now it's looking pretty gloomy out there, in fact it's raining now, I can hear it, so a ride today is probably out of the question, which is a shame. Yesterday I was seriously considering a ride. I went out on to the driveway and there was a lovely smell of rain in the air. Fortunately, I decided not to ride and no sooner had I made that decision it started to rain, just like it is right now. There are those who will say it's good for the garden and perhaps they're right, but sod the garden I want to ride my bike. It is Friday 18 June 2021 and as I say, it's not been a bad week for cycling and it's not over yet; if today's a wash-out, there's always tomorrow and I think it'll fine on Saturday, but the weather will deteriorate as the day progresses, or so they say. I might still get to eat cake and drink English breakfast tea on the green at Westerham, but whether Andy and I will be meeting on Sunday (20 June) I don't know. We will see.

So it's now Saturday morning as I write this and everything is dull and still and it's looking as if it'll rain at any moment, although the weather people are still saying it will be cloudy, no rain, not until later in the day, or possibly overnight. It's 0739hrs and I'm planning to hit the road around 0800hrs. My iPhone says a mixture of cloud and sunshine today, certainly until lunch time, which means if I'm quick I could get myself down to Westerham and score a quick 22 miles, which would bring my total this week to just over 80 miles, not bad going, but let's see.

Well, it's now 1220hrs on Saturday morning and I've not long returned from a ride to Westerham, which was fantastic. Alright, it was cloudy, but it wasn't cold and while on the outward journey there was a fine shower of drizzle for a short while, I sailed along Beddlestead Lane and down Clarks Lane, turning left into Pilgrims Lane, passing the Velo Barn and then riding into Westerham where I found the Tudor Rose Tearooms. I sat inside, ordered tea and a slice of coffee & walnut cake, which could have been a little fresher, but it did the job, and soon I found myself back on the bike riding home. I decided to follow The Ridge into Woldingham, braced myself for the steep hill at the end of Slines Oak Road and then turned left on to the B269 and headed home. In total this week I rode 84.75 miles, a vast improvement on last week's 22 miles, and right now I feel good and I'm looking forward to a drive to Chartwell, which is just outside of Westerham, so I'll be retracing some of this morning's ride in the car.

The Westerham ride was fantastic as everything is in bloom. As I rode along Beddlestead the cow parsley was tipped with teardrops of rain and as that fine drizzle fell to the ground quietly, as only drizzle can do, I embraced the moment, the misty air, the warmth of a summer morning, the tweeting of the birds in the hedgerows, what was not to like, I thought, as I pedalled along looking forward to seeing the mobile phone mast that signifies the near end of Beddlestead Lane and the refreshing downhill ride towards Pilgrims Lane. I really hope that rain doesn't stop play tomorrow (Sunday 20 June) as I'm looking forward to meeting Andy on the green in Westerham* for our weekly chinwag.

* We met in Tatsfield village.