"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.

Watching the fog...

I had plans to start talking about 'history in the making', but that would have been misleading. The truth is that history hasn't been made at all, it was just another cyclist on the way to see his mum. Another Dawes Galaxy, perhaps, or another recumbent cyclist on his eccentric way to somewhere, but nobody knows where.

What the hell am I talking about? We were sitting at the Tatsfield bus stop, watching the fog. Believe me, it's better than watching paint dry. In fact it's quite educational: watching cars without lights disappearing into the murk, watching cyclists without lights (Lycra monkeys, of course) disappearing or simply cycling past us without a care for their own safety. Why don't people switch their lights on when there's fog? Some did, but an equal amount didn't. The biggest idiots were the Lycra monkeys.

Our bikes – my Rockhopper (left) and Andy's Blast – close to the bus stop

So we're sitting there, sipping tea, watching the fog when somebody turns up and has the audacity to ask me to move my rucksack. Naturally, I oblige and we engage in small talk. He'd cycled from Biggin Hill en route to Warlingham – not a million miles from where we'd set off earlier – to see his mum. I was reminded of my own 'urban rides' to mum's (haven't done one of those for a while) although that said, it's Tuesday as I write this, Tuesday 9th October at 2241hrs, and earlier today I'd seen mum and enjoyed a slice (or three) of fruit cake. But let's get back to last Saturday and the fog and the stranger, who, it turned out, was a nice guy.

We were sitting there at a later time than normal and it was all my fault. I'd switched off my alarm and had forgotten to switch it back on. Result? I woke up at 0700hrs instead of 0600hrs (after a broken night) and had to text Andy to say we should meet at 0800hrs, half an hour later than usual. So naturally we were later and that's how we met this new guy. We never exchanged names, but we did exchange pleasantries, told him we'd been coming here for almost a decade, told him about our other routes and then it was time to say good bye. We watched him disappear into the murk of the fog.

"I wonder if he makes a good sausage sandwich?" said Andy.
"Or a Bakewell tart," I added.

It was all because our recent conversations had focused on Phil and how we never see him anymore.

"He's gone over to the dark side," said Andy.
"Forever," I added.

There wasn't much more to say on the subject and soon it was our turn to pack up and head into the fog. Andy was going home via the Ridge and I stuck to the off-road path on the 269 due to the fog.

Fog ahead. At Warlingham Green 0800hrs

Sunday was another late start. This time Andy sent me a text asking if 0800hrs would be okay. Of course it was okay, I texted back, and settled in for a little more relaxation. I'd been up since 0600hrs and was glad for the lull in proceedings, so glad that I almost missed the 0730hrs departure time.

We decided that a short ride would be the order of the day. I had things going on and needed to be back early so we headed for the good old 'cottage' – a short ride along the 269 and then a left turn into the fields, following an off-road gravel path. When we got there the seating was damp, but it was good to be back at the cottage. Being as the place is right off the beaten track it was tranquil apart from birdsong.

"Imagine if you'd spent the night here," I said.
"If you had a sleeping bag you'd be alright because you're off the ground," said Andy. "It's the ground that's damp," he pointed out.
"I'd pitch up a tent over there," I said, pointing to the woods surrounding the cottage. "Keeping out of sight is crucial."

I found myself wondering why I have this 'camping out' fantasy, this strange yearning to sleep under canvas. It's been with me for years and was bolstered somewhat by reading Mike Carter's One Man and His Bike. Mike combined cycling with sleeping in a tent in a mammoth cycling adventure around the coastline of the United Kingdom. It's one of my favourite books of all-time.

Looking at the fog...

We drank tea, we dunked Belvitas and we chatted about nothing in particular, apart from camping wild. I had to get back so we mounted the bikes and headed off. I raced up the gravel track to the main field, the rear wheel slipping constantly, and then, when I reached the top, I lost momentum and had to dismount. I walked for a few yards and then jumped back on. Andy and I rode side-by-side to the gate and then we both used the road, not the off-road path, to reach Warlingham (it's faster, but also much more dangerous). That said, there was no fog on Sunday morning. In fact, the weather was very pleasant, much warmer than Saturday morning.

Talking of the weather, it's starting to creep towards winter. Last weekend I realised I needed a scarf before heading out – but couldn't find one. If I recall correctly, the week before it was very cold. I think it was around 6 degrees, but it got warmer as the day got older. The pattern seems to be cooler temperatures first thing in the morning, but then rising temperatures as the day progresses, so much so that there are blue skies and sunshine. Today, Tuesday 9th, was an amazing day. Sunshine, heat, and it's mid-October. Not that good weather in October is rare. I remember a ride to the lakes with Andy back in, I think, 2010, when the weather was wonderful, just like a midsummer's day. I've also got a photograph somewhere on this blog of Woodmansterne Green in November – with plenty of leaves still on the trees.

This weekend, the one just past, was good. We managed two rides, albeit both of them were later than usual, but sometimes a slower start is better.

Here's to the next ride...