Happy New Year (to all my readers!)

It's New Year's Day 2018. Outside everything is still, even at 0911hrs. I woke up at 0832hrs having got to bed around 0100hrs. I 'saw in the New Year' alone – meaning I was the only one still awake – watching a bit of Jools Holland and then switching to Nile Rodgers on BBC1. The thing I hate about watching Hootenanny, apart from the name, is that mildly corny music-head snobbery that surrounds the programme and, worst of all, the fact that it isn't live. That means it is recorded during the week and that when everybody says 'Happy New Year' it's not really, it's probably something like 27th December, possibly earlier, but either way it doesn't sit comfortably with me; I'd much prefer it to be properly live.

New Year – time for reflection, says Andy

So it's 2018 and the anti-climax that is the 'new year' is upon us; basically everything is the same as it was 24 hours ago except that there are people with pointless hangovers waking up in strange places and considering making their way home, or just waking up with a sore head and stumbling down to the kitchen for a pint glass full of cold water and something for their headache. I, on the other hand, can smugly report no hangover because I didn't drink a thing, apart from a peppermint tea. It all goes back to that dizziness thing I've been complaining about, which is still there, I'm just managing to avoid sending the room spinning by not getting up suddenly, not turning my head too fast and being a little careful. I'm not drinking because I don't want to add to the problem, although, by and large, like at this very moment, I don't have a problem.

In fact, on the dizziness front, a friend of mine texted me yesterday to say that his daughter has it too. The only common denominator between her and me is that we both had transatlantic flights just prior to getting dizzy. As I said, I don't have a problem now because I'm sitting upright and it seems to go when I'm out and about and standing upright. At night, though, I still sleep with three pillows, which seems to help, and the only time I might possibly experience any issues is getting out of bed. As a result, since it first occurred back in late October, I sleep on my left side and still get in and out of bed 'carefully'. I know that one false move and the room will spin. There is, apparently, something called the Epply Manoeuvre that can be done by a doctor – after two or three sessions the dizziness is supposed to go. I still might go and see my GP again, but I'm fine.

Trying in vain to keep my saddle dry...

On the cycling front, it's been good. For the last two weeks we've rode twice a week, Saturday and Sunday, although we didn't have our traditional Boxing Day ride and it's too late to go out for a New Year's Day ride. I was planning to see Bon today.

Today is Monday. Yesterday and Saturday we rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop, the slow way. There were heavy gusts of wind along the way on both rides and on Sunday a bit of rain too. In fact, it must have rained heavily during the night before both rides as there were huge puddles, some spanning the width of the road in front of us.

We had mum's Christmas Cake on Saturday and the good old Belvita biscuits yesterday. In a way I'm looking forward to the cake going for good. Alright, I've had one piece per day since around 27th December, but it'll be good not to have the temptation. That said I fancy a bit right now, but I'll resist as I've just enjoyed a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea.

Riding the slow way to the bus stop has always been a bit of an ordeal, but it's easy to blank it out, either by the heads-down approach or by chatting our way out of it; the great bit is passing the mobile phone mast and having just 75 yards or so to go before reaching Clarks Lane.

Yesterday, the combination of wind and rain meant that the seats at the Tatsfield Bus Stop were damp. Andy sat on his gloves, I sat on my rucksack and all was well. We discussed ways of modernising the shelter by adding an awning at the top and, perhaps, a small gated wall at the bottom to prevent the seat from getting wet during windy, rainy weather, but somehow we didn't think Tandridge Council would take our requests seriously.

Riding along the 269 in windy, rainy conditions is not good, especially if the puddles straddle the road like they did this weekend. The temptation, of course, is to avoid the puddles, but that means drifting into the middle of the road, which is not good when you consider that everybody else, on both sides of the road, is doing the same thing. The alternative is the off-road path or riding back the slow way, but taking the latter option means climbing Hesiers Hill, which takes up valuable time. Yesterday, on riding through what amounted to a small pond, I took a soaking on my right leg half way along the 269, just before the downhill stretch on the return run.

Coughlans opens early – worth knowing

We'd left later than usual yesterday. I'd texted Andy suggesting we met at the green at 0800hrs, not the usual 0730hrs. I needed to chill a little more than usual. Andy agreed. In fact I think we both considered sending the dreaded 'abort' text. When I hit the air I noticed it was raining so I texted Andy, just in case he too had rain. Let's face it, the aim of that text was to kind of abort the ride, but we both knew it was only 'spitting' a little, so the ride continued. Luckily, the only real heavy rain hit home when we were safely undercover at the bus stop and, unbelievably, it cleared up before we packed up and headed for home.

We parted at the green, but we'll be back next week, same time, same channel (as they used to say on American television).

• It's amazing what you don't notice while cycling. The photo below, taken by Andy's 'on-bike' camera shows a car passing me yesterday as we both rode back along the 269. It's a dangerous road and when you get cyclists and motorists coming at you in both directions there's not a great deal of space; and let's not forget that there is an off-road path we could be using.

Yours truly on the 269 yesterday morning...

My only worry about the above shot is that I'm wondering how far that car could move further to the right without drifting into oncoming traffic. He's given me what, about 4ft clearance? He's not exactly pushing me on to the grass bank. Just a thought.

To Westerham in the wind and rain...

Up with the lark and ready to ride. I listened to the news on radio four and then jumped out of bed and made my way to the kitchen where the kettle was filled with water and switched on; toast was placed in the toaster and milk in the saucepan – for the Shredded Wheat.

But there was rain. Well, drizzle, like a fine spray, but it didn't matter because it was warm outside. Waterproof clothing. Hmmm...you know when somebody refers to something as 'bombproof'? Never believe them. Because anything with the word 'proof' after it is some kind of lie. I'm sure that anything described as 'bomb proof' would be blown to smithereens if somebody actually attached (and ignited) a bomb on it.

In a slightly different vein, 'stay press' anything invariably isn't; Anchor spreadable? Not always and if something is billed as waterproof – expect a soaking.

We sent this shot to Phil

I rode towards Church Way, in full waterproofs, in the wind and rain, and within a few minutes of leaving the house I was shiny. I felt and looked like the skipper of a North Sea trawler – somebody more than capable of pulling up a chair at the Skipper's Table – and, as I made slow progress up Church Way, the wind seemingly blowing me back down the street, I got wetter and wetter. The only reason I wasn't too bothered was because it was mild, not cold, and the truth of the matter was quite simple to understand: while I was certainly getting wet, the best word – or phrase – to describe it was probably 'a little damp'. Later, when I reached home (at 1010hrs) and peeled off the waterproofs, I had damp trousers underneath, but they weren't wet. Well, alright, they were wet, but I wasn't soaked through is what I'm saying.

Andy was waiting for me at the Green and when he mentioned Westerham – following on from a Facebook comment by yours truly pointing to the fact that I'd been eating too many cakes and biscuits during the week – I admit that I was astonished. Westerham? The northern Kent market town? I couldn't remember the last time we rode there. Andy reckoned it was about a year ago and I've yet to check the exact date. He's probably right.

We decided to get our heads down and ride along the 269, past Botley Hill, past the Tatsfield Bus Stop and down the hill into Westerham. The wind and rain continued, but it wasn't too bad. The rain was still little more than a fine drizzle and the worst thing was the wind. Eventually the rain eased off. We passed a jogger who was travelling in the opposite direction. "At least I'm going this way," she remarked cheerily, alluding to the fact that she had a tailwind while we had to endure a full-on headwind. "We'll have a headwind coming back too," said Andy cynically as we pushed on.

Some people really are slovenly. What idiot, I wondered, had spilt brightly-coloured Dulux paint not only at intervals along the 269, but also further along Clarks Lane as we made our descent into Westerham. How long that paint will be splattered on the 269's cycle lane and Clarks Lane is anybody's guess, but it looks a right mess and it ruins the look of the countryside.

Westerham hadn't changed a bit. The Costa Coffee had its windows boarded up and was closed after the accident over Christmas. Avid readers might recall that a car careened out of control off of the road and through a window of the coffee retail outlet, injuring many and killing an old lady of 70 years old. We noticed a few bunches of flowers left outside as we made our way past, heading in the direction of Churchill's statue on the green.

Everything was wet and there was nowhere to sit down so we stood there, drinking tea and munching Belvita biscuits. And yes, you did hear correctly, I've signed up to Facebook under my real name – Matthew Moggridge – where I've also set up a NoVisibleLycra page. But why I bothered I'll never know. Social media, as I've said many times before, is a complete and utter waste of time. I've been on Linkedin since 2009 and since then I've had ONE job interview (not that I'm looking). As for this blog, it's purely for my own pleasure (I love writing and I've enjoying writing everything I've written on these pages). Once I decided to 'monetise' the blog and guess what? A few ads appeared, but I never made a single penny. And now, for some ridiculous reason, I've signed up to Facebook.

Andy and Matt on Westerham Green, 6 February 2016

We chatted about Top Gear. We both feel that Chris Evans won't pull it off – or rather he'll pull it off, in his own way, but he won't be able to recreate the magic of Messrs. Clarkson, May and Hammond. His biggest mistake would be trying to recreate what Clarkson and Co. created. And what the hell is Matt Le Blanc doing on the show? The strange thing about him is the fact that he's nothing like Joey from Friends. Now I know that's kind of obvious – he was, after all, acting – but I think people expect him to be Joey and he's not, he's quieter and considerably more reserved. Andy says they have an old 'stig' on the show too. Well, again, an 'old' Stig – a leftover from the glory days of Clarkson, May and Hammond. I'd love it to work for Chris Evans, I really would, but I'm still suffering withdrawal symptoms over Clarkson's departure.

The rain eased off early on in the ride and for most of the outward journey it was just wet tarmac and roadside puddles – not good if you don't have mudguards, but at least I had the waterproofs.

Reluctantly we mounted the bikes and rode out of Westerham. It's a long haul from the town to the bottom of the hill, but the hill itself isn't too bad. The problem is that it continues, naggingly, all the way to Botley Hill and beyond before we're able to settle in to a smooth ride along the 269 to Warlingham Green.

When I was a kid I remember pretending my bike was a train and that I was the driver. I made up mythical stations and pretended that kerbsides were platforms. The stations were named after some characteristic of the road, so if there was a plum tree the station was called Plumbury. Now, as I prepared to race past the Tatsfield Bus Stop without stopping I found myself imagining once again that I was driving a train, the non-stop Westerham to Sanderstead train that went through a station called Tatsfield Bus Stop. Silly, I know, but there you have it.

It's quite odd imagining things to be something they're not. I do it all the time. Going back to when I worked for a different publishing company, I remember, on my walks home during the dark, winter months, pretending that a pub fairly close to home was really an old haunted galleon and that I was in a rowing boat, alone, on calm black seas, when the old ship emerged from the fog and I continued on my journey, rowing alongside the eery, creaking, wooden hull, a bell ringing mysteriously on board, getting quieter as I rowed away from the mysterious vessel.

Andy and I parted company on the green and I reached home at 1010hrs. Here's hoping we both feel suitably inclined tomorrow morning to repeat today's performance.

Seriously cold weather as we battle snow and heavy winds to and from the Tatsfield Bus Stop

There was about 25 minutes in it. Twenty five minutes between getting soaked through and almost frozen to death or staying indoors and enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Had Andy and I agreed to meet at 0800hrs instead of the usual 0730hrs things would have been different, certainly drier, but only if we hadn't gone out. In the end – in fact, shortly after leaving the house – the snow started.

I pedalled up Church Way as the snow began to fall and it never really stopped until I returned home. When I reached the top of the hill the snow eased off, but only temporarily. By the time I reached Waitrose it was snowing again, it might have become rain or sleet, but then, once I reached the green, it was full-on snow again.

Bleak at the bus stop...

Andy was cycling towards the green at roughly the same time as yours truly, and when we spotted one another we kept on cycling, agreeing while in motion to head for the Tatsfield Bus Stop. It was the only sensible place, being as it offered shelter from the snow and a dry bench on which to sit. I didn't seem to have the usual wet arse, which goes with the territory when you don't have mudguards, but that's because there was more snow than rain. That said, on the approach to the bus stop the roads were wetter and soon my arse was wet too.

As we rode south along the Limpsfield Road towards Botley Hill, however, the snow didn't seem that bad. As usual with snow, it seems fine early on, almost enjoyable, but then it turns and things get nasty. For Andy and I the nastiness started when we made the left turn into Clarks Lane and found ourselves heading east towards Westerham. At this point the snow was blowing horizontally across the road and hitting us sideways on. Very, very unpleasant. We were both relieved to reach the bus stop.

It was truly awful weather and I think we were both wondering what the hell made us want to ride out in it. Yes, it would mean a 'respect is due' for both of us, but why? What was the point? There was no point.

We looked out from the shelter offered by the bus stop, our view slightly impeded by a sign advertising an arts and craft fair in Tatsfield Village, but the view was bleak: snow flurries travelling horizontally from north to south and showing no sign of abating. There was little else to do other than pack away our 'stuff' – flask, cups, milk – and then simply ride home, enduring the pain of the journey, which was going to be rough.

The ride to Botley Hill was unpleasant and I stopped after a few yards to cover my face with a scarf; not a brilliant idea as eventually the moisture generated by the heat of my breath dampened the cloth, which eventually cooled, becoming more unpleasant than comforting. When we made the right turn on to the 269 and headed north towards Botley Hill Andy suggested we rode along the off-road tracks for the sake of safety, but there was always punctures to worry about. It would have been the last thing we needed. Fortunately, all was well, although I can't guarantee that Andy's journey remained puncture-free as we parted company halfway along a windswept road.

I stayed on the roadside track until I reached the roundabout adjacent to Warlingham Sainsbury's and then, soaked through, I hit the road and continued the journey home. While there had been snow in the burbs, it had now turned to driving rain with rivers running along the gutters. Oh how I wished my bike had been fitted with mudguards, but if the truth be known I was already soaked through so in many ways it was academic, but it didn't feel good. My feet and hands were frozen and I knew that when I reached home I would have to stand under a warm shower for many minutes. All I wanted was for the journey to end and eventually it did. I rode through Sanderstead High Street on the path and then crossed to the Gruffy and Sanderstead Pond, into the churchyard and down Church Way. Church Way became Arkwright Road and I turned left into Morley, right on to Elmfield Way and then left into Southcote, hanging an immediate right into Ellenbridge and another right on to Barnfield.

Normally, we see plenty of cyclists, but today we were the only idiots mad enough to venture outside. There was something pleasing about that.

Having peeled off my clothing I stood under the shower and thawed out. My legs and feet were red raw with the cold and numb too, but after drying and putting on warm clothes, drinking a mug of hot tea and chilling, I felt the life begin to seep back into me. It was really good to be home.

The day remained cold and blustery and I'm wondering what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps an abort text, but not if things warm up, we'll have to wait and see.

Sunday morning
In all honesty I wasn't keen on an early start in the cold so I sent Andy a text and discovered that he felt the same way. For the first time in God knows how long, I remained in bed beyond 0600hrs and then I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, but when I looked out of the window, while a frost still lay on the ground and it was clearly a cold, crisp morning, the sun was out, the skies were blue and I started to wish I hadn't wimped out. But I had, and I'd have to live with it.

The rain and the wind continue to batter the UK...and there's no riding today

There are severe weather warnings as the rain and wind continue to batter the UK and, as I sit here now, it carries on; the rain hitting the roof and the wind blowing everywhere. A ride is completely out of the question so this morning I sent an 'abort' text to Andy and he sent one back saying 'let's see what it's like tomorrow'.

Jon in drier times at Hunger's End, Merstham.

I'd like to think we'll get out tomorrow, but the weather forecasters think differently. The UK, they say, is in for some severe winds and rains. Already, as this blog has reported, there has been extensive flooding and power cuts, people have been washed out to sea, the trains have experienced severe delays due to things like fallen trees, and there are, as I've said, problems with travel everywhere.

In fact, I can't think of anything more unpleasant than jumping on the bike and going for a ride. Having said that, my brother Jon enters the NoVisibleLycra "Respect is Due" hall of fame. He went out for a ride on New Year's Day, over to mum's, and took a major soaking in the process. He called me from mum's where I'm guessing he was standing in his underpants, his clothes drying on various radiators.

The story goes that once his clothes were dry he put them on and rode off home, taking another soaking. Still, it gets a 'well done' from the NoVisibleLycra "Respect is Due" committee.

More heavy winds and rain...

The plan was to ride out today, alone, possibly just to the green and back, but the weather had other plans. As I write this it's raining and the wind is blowing hard outside. I can hear the rain on the conservatory roof above me – definitely not cycling weather.

It's the day before New Year's Eve and I'm in that timeless zone between Christmas and the New Year when nothing much happens and it's hard to tell whether it's the weekend or not. Well, it's not the weekend, it's Monday morning and I know that Andy's off to work today, but only for two days and then it's New Year's Day, arguably the most boring day of the year. In many ways it's like Christmas Day but without the turkey dinner and false bonhomie. There's nothing to do, most people are tired after being fooled into thinking the day before that it was all going to happen as they counted down to midnight only to discover that, on the strike of twelve, everything was exactly the same and nothing at all had changed. New Year's Day is the biggest anti-climax in the world. It's when we all sit around thinking about work, which is normally the following day.

And don't you just hate it when you get into work and find yourself wishing everybody you meet a happy new year. I often find myself wondering when, in the month of January, it's safe not to wish people a happy new year. Probably some time after the middle of the month, around the 15th perhaps. Either way it's horrible.

I've given up making new year resolutions too. Why bother? I never keep to them.

So the wind howls and whistles and the rain patters outside. The bike is in the garage and won't be seeing the road today.

Wind and rain aborts ride

I had a feeling the weather would be poor this weekend, mainly because people had been talking it up, saying how it was going to be pretty murky. Sure enough, as my alarm went off, I could hear the wind and rain outside and reached for the phone to type out one word: abort.

There are grey clouds and the trees are wavering around in the wind; not the sort of day for a ride to Botley Hill and back. Here's hoping things will brighten up for tomorrow.

By the way, the date says 21st June, the longest day, but that was yesterday. Today is Saturday 22nd June. If I was writing this afternoon it would say 22nd June but I'm not, it's now 0725hrs...just because the ride was aborted doesn't mean I don't get up.

Rain, wind and fog – but it didn't phase me!

Soaked in the fog, wind and rain, 0825hrs, Sunday 10 February 2013.

It's been an interesting weekend weather-wise. Yesterday morning (Saturday) there was a wonderful sunrise with a huge orb burning on the horizon and silhouetting the bare trees against a purple sky. Sadly, I didn't have my camera on me, otherwise I'd have taken a shot of it. Besides, it was a rushed ride for me, a non-stop special to Botley, round the roundabout and home. The weather was fantastic. A little cold, but generally fine, albeit mildly wet, not because of rain during the ride but definitely in the early hours of the morning. Puddles on the roadside provided plenty of evidence.

I'd left the house early due to family commitments and met Andy at the Green. We headed off for the Tatsfield Bus Stop, but Andy had to turn back just beyond Knights Garden Centre and I continued alone and turned around at the mini-roundabout.

Sunday was going to be Westerham, or even Redhill, but the weather dictated otherwise. There was a fine rain when I went out around 7am and it was touch and go. I texted Andy and we decided to meet at the Green, but as I my ride progressed, the rain, while still fairly mild and not really a big problem, increased slightly in its intensity. When I reached Warlingham Green I thought I saw Andy talking to another cyclist, but it turned out to be two complete strangers who were off on a long ride towards Reigate Hill. They asked me to join them, but I declined. Actually, they weren't total strangers. I'd met one of them a few weeks back and we chewed the fat about bikes and stuff.

My phone said '10 missed calls' and 'one message' and they were all from Andy. The rain had picked up a bit over Caterham way and he decided to abort. Now, I could have turned around and come home, but I persevered a little bit, reaching Warlingham Town Hall and riding into its small car park where I made a few circles while deciding whether to carry on or just go home. It wasn't too bad out, I thought to myself, and then exited the car park left and headed up the road towards Botley. There was a wind coming straight at me, which made the rain seem worse than it was. In fact, if I turned the bike around, as I did twice while still deciding whether to push ahead or not, I noticed that travelling north, with the wind behind me, was far more pleasant than riding south. But I was out and even facing the wind wasn't that bad so I carried on, past Sainsbury's, past the pub that has been turned into a coffee shop, called something like Anana and on towards the garden centre and then the pond on the corner of Slines Oak Road. I passed Ledgers Road thinking 'if I turn around now it'll be ten miles all in', but no, I kept going.

It's amazing how, once out in the rain it never seems as bad as it looks when you're indoors looking out.  I knew that I was going to make it all the way to Botley, although as the journey progressed, past that lonely bus stop that marks the end of the hill on the 269 the wind increased as the terrain became more exposed and a fog appeared to be rolling in. With only a front light – my rear light needed new batteries – I moved on to the thorn-ridden pathway that runs the length of the road but decided to hit the road again as I didn't want to risk a puncture. At one point, I was beginning to regret coming out – or rather I was beginning to regret going further than just Knights as I was facing thick fog, rain and wind, but I was well beyond the point of no return and was very pleased when I saw the broken Botley Hill pub sign.

Bearing in mind the conditions, I didn't go as far as the mini roundabout and settled for the gate to the pub on which I rested the Kona while I took the photograph accompanying this post.

There were other cyclists out, but only the hardy few. Once the shot was taken I headed back home with the wind behind me, but still got soaked. There were puddles lining the roads most of the way back, including one huge one that spanned the width of the road. I waited for cars travelling in both directions to go through the puddle first before aiming the bike at the middle of the road – where there was less puddle – and made my own way through. Then I stopped to take a shot of the puddle, resting the camera on the ground so it looked like a huge lake; except that on this occasion it just looked like a puddle and I didn't have the inclination to try different angles to achieve my sad objective. I found myself standing there, in the middle of the road, soaking wet, thinking to myself, how ridiculous! Taking a photograph of a puddle on a rainy day. It's not as if I haven't got anything better to do! Realising what a complete nob cheese I was being, I packed away the camera, mounted the bike and headed for home.

Once I reached the downhill bit of the 269 I experienced a lot of face-ache; it was like an ice cream headache and it didn't wear off until I'd slowed down on my approach to the Sainsbury's roundabout.

I had a bit of a headache anyway, thanks to a couple of glasses of red wine the night before – we had cottage pie and there's nowt better than a glass or two to go with it. I'd only had a couple of glasses – alright, three or four – but I woke up around 0330hrs with the beginnings of a headache. I must have fallen back to sleep because I was awakened by Radio Four and Something Understood, which this week featured the Dalai Lama talking about Buddhism. Normally I'm up and out of bed by just gone six, but today I just lay there listening to the radio until 0630hrs when I jumped out of bed and quickly changed, made the tea and caught a bit of breakfast TV before going out and noticing the rain. That was when I called Andy and we decided to meet at the Green.

I was soaked through when I reached home and had to change into my dressing gown (which I'm still wearing now at 1124hrs). Tea, an egg sandwich, Shredded Wheat and bread and marmalade (St Dalfour Orange and Ginger, did the trick and now, as the rain continues outside, I sit here writing this post glad that despite the rain, I got out there and rode the bike.

Both today and yesterday I clocked up 14 miles so that's 28 in total. Not bad considering the rain normally manages to abort the ride. Here's to better weather next week.