Through the smallholdings

Top: the road to nowhere? Nope, it takes you back through Wallington. The other shot is my bike resting against a fence along the same stretch of road.

Jon and I commented on a walk we enjoyed years ago when living at home with mum and dad. It was along an isolated road running through the smallholdings at the top of Wallington over the Christmas period, probably Christmas Day, as these were in the days when everything was closed and if you were suffering from cabin fever the best thing to do was go for a walk.

I stumbled across the lane again on Saturday and here's the evidence. It's amazing, looking at these photographs, to think that I was in Wallington in Greater London and not somewhere a little more remote.

Mum & Dad's and then Woldingham

From the top: our bikes at the rest point in Woldingham plus the view and a shot of Andy on Warlingham Green just prior to setting off and taken on the iPhone.

Andy couldn't make it on Saturday, meaning a later start than usual for your truly, which meant that a trip to Merstham was kind of out of the question as Jon and I had things to do back home. In the end we decided to visit mum and dad in Carshalton for some Shredded Wheat and a cup of tea – you can't beat a free breakfast, especially one prepared by mum.

Jon and I then cycled around the Poets Estate (where all the houses are named after poets: Milton Avenue, Browning Avenue, Coleridge Avenue) and then went our separate ways. I found an interesting short cut to the top of Wallington.

Sunday saw Andy and I head out to a resting point in Woldingham, not a million miles from Botley Hill Farm. We were originally going to the Tatsfield Bus Stop but decided to cut it short and stop where we stopped – there was a bench there and some amazing views as we were high up and overlooking the M25 – pity they were partly obscured by a barbed wire fence, but then there is a sheer drop of a few hundred feet just a few yards from the fence.

Andy and I both have new iPhones so we chatted about them more than anything else and then headed home. The pic of Andy above was taken on my iphone.

News just in!!!!

Photo credit: Jill Torrance, Arizona Daily Star.

We're on our bikes for what? A couple hours? Something like that, but hey! Check out the Kona 24-hour mountain bike race! Click here!

Jon's slow puncture

Jon pumping up his slow puncture outside the Hunger's End Café in Merstham on Saturday 6 March 2010. He needs to fix it properly before it becomes a fast puncture.

6 & 7 March 2010 – to Merstham for breakfast!

Andy's bun – but as you know, precious grams mean nothing to us and what's a sticky bun among friends?

I think the phrase 'variety is the spice of life' is key in cycling, and now that we have a new default cycle route (to Merstham in Surrey) we've kind of moved on from Woodmansterne Green, which is now there as a quick route should we not have time for anything else. Having said that, of course, if we keep going to Merstham for breakfast at the Hunger's End cafe, then it's soon going to become boring and we'll start yearning for new destinations. The key, then, is variety.

Okay, on to this weekend. Saturday was a full house: Andy, Jon and yours truly; and we all headed off for Merstham and Hunger's End where Andy had a cream bun, I had scrambled eggs on toast and Jon had a smaller version of the Full English he had last week. We all had mugs of tea and I had two and then headed back home – Andy along the A23 and Jon and I through the quiet lanes that weave their way under the M25 and back towards Chipstead and Banstead.

The Merstham run is good because it's fairly long. All told, the trip covers 30 miles or thereabouts, so it's equivalent in work-out terms to our Chevening Lake route. Merstham is okay; a little eccentric, what with the shaving man, who is there EVERY Saturday. Apparently he likes watching Merstham FC, the local team. The women who run the caff all smoke, which is not good, but they're a friendly bunch and they can rustle up a decent breakfast. That, of course, is the great thing about cycling to Merstham. It's a long way and there's a nasty hill (from the bottom to the top of Hazlewood Lane) but that makes the notion of a big breakfast even more exciting. The problem is getting back off our arses, on the bikes and home again. To be honest, I could sit there all day drinking tea, watching the shaving man and chewing the fat with Andy and Jon. Still, you can't everything.

I was out late on Saturday night and didn't turn in until 1am in the morning so the prospect of a Sunday cycle was not good. Having said that, I did wake up around 0630 and wasn't feeling that tired, but I stuck with my abort message sent to Andy very early on Sunday morning. He didn't go cycling, but Jon called me from Woodmansterne Green. I felt a little envious as I stood in the conservatory chatting on the mobile as the sun shone brightly outside. And here I am now, Sunday morning, just gone 1030, the sun is shining and I'm still in my dressing gown, wishing I'd gone out in the fresh air. My only consolation? That Andy was still in bed when I called him, about 30 minutes ago, to see if he'd gone out.

Now I feel tainted by not having gone out, but that's the way of the world and I shouldn't beat myself up over it.

Retro Kona website – worth a peek!

Check out this amazing site all about retro Kona bikes. There's old catalogues, all sorts. Yes, I know it's a bit 'anoraky' but who cares? Click here!!!

The River Wandle as it flows through Grove Park, Carshalton

The River Wandle as it flows through Carshalton.

The River Wandle as it weaves through Grove Park in Carshalton. It brings back happy memories of fishing with a net on a bamboo stick and playing with our Star model yachts, made in Birkenhead, but probably not any more. I've still got one in my attic.

The River Wandle will always bring back happy childhood memories for me; Dad used to take us fishing for sticklebacks with our bamboo fishing nets and I remember sailing many a model boat here too. Just down from where this shot was taken there is a gushing waterfall and an old mill where it is rumoured that a small boy, died; but that story is as old as the hills, although probably true. The mill used to have – probably still does, I haven't looked for ages – a mill pond covered in a green algae of sorts. Looking at it gave the illusion of solid ground, it was that still, but throw a stone into it and the 'plop' told the truth – it's water! Just down from the old mill used to be a mortuary. It was used during the war and closed down shortly afterwards, but that didn't stop Graham Knowles and I from venturing inside when we discovered it was fairly easy to gain access. I had a large remote control Tiger Tank at the time (what a great toy!), which we sent in first, like one of those remote control robots used in bomb disposal and about the same size. I cannot recall if I had the bottle to go inside the mortuary, but others did and found old shrouds and coffin lids and some dried-up blood on the old slabs. Not nice. My dad called the council and got it closed down. Today there are new houses in its place – now there's got to be a plot for a story there, a brand new house, haunted, but why? And then someone digs up the history of the mortuary – spooky!

Jack Shit handle grips...

My Kona Scrap, complete with Kona's Jack Shit handlegrips, leaning against a tree in Grove Park, Carshalton, Surrey.

Mine were getting a bit worn and full of holes, so when I took the bike in to have the hydraulic brakes made safe, I bought some Jack Shit handle grips. The bike, incidentally, needs a service.

Over to Carshalton, supposedly to fix Jon's puncture

Top shot: a milk float similar to this one accompanied 'Dynamic Norman' and myself on a milkround in the Woodcote area of South Wallington.

Larger photo shows All Saint's Church in Carshalton taken from the Grove Park and looking across one of two lakes; the other one is to the right of this picture and is separated by a road bridge, over which that rather ugly bus (the 157, which, apparently, the singer Matt Monroe used to drive, according to my mum). The two lakes aren't actually separate at all as the water flows under the road bridge making it really just one big lake. The water, incidentally all forms part of the River Wandle, which joins the River Thames at Wandsworth.

Mild rain yesterday, unlike today's torrential downpour, which has led to an 'abort' text to Andy. The plan was to head out to the Tatsfield bus stop, but the rain is still hammering down on to my conservatory roof as I sit here in the halogen glow of the computer writing this blog.

Andy wasn't cycling yesterday (Saturday 27 February) so Jon and I decided to cycle to mum and dad's and fix his puncture. When we got there, having met halfway along the road towards Woodmansterne Green (I was running a little late) we headed down through South Wallington in the heavy Saturday morning traffic towards Carshalton but then decided to veer left and follow the quieter roads where, many years ago, I used to do a milkround with a man known as 'Dynamic Norman', probably because there was nothing dynamic about him. He was, I recall, a film buff, but that was all I knew about him, apart from the fact that he had a son who he took the movies at the weekends. These were the days when it was always summer. I can't remember doing the round in the rain ever.

There are some nice 'gaff's' at the top of Wallington and riding down Boundary Road towards the mini roundabout at the end, memories of my time working for the Express Dairy from their depot in Shorts Road came flooding back. I'll always remember how mum used to ask me if I was going to be doing my round that morning to which I would always reply, 'might, I dunno'. It became a family joke.

We rode through Ruskin Park, otherwise known as the 'dip park' because of these huge craters where I remember cycling as a kid. Jon and I considered going down the dips again and stopped to prepare ourselves, but I knew (and so did Jon) that coming up the other side would be an effort so we didn't bother. Instead we pushed on: across the Ruskin Road, down past Carshalton Library, along West Street past the Racehorse pub and then past Dog Shit Alley and up Colston Avenue, past Audrey's (which is closing down) and then up Rossdale to mum and dad's.

Dad was on his way out for a haircut down at Scissors in the village but we stayed and had Shredded Wheat and and a mug of tea before heading our separate ways: Jon to Epsom and me to Croydon, via Wallington in the traffic.

Woke up this morning (Sunday 28 February) and realised I hadn't yet bought Jon a birthday card for tomorrow. Oops! Better stop writing this blog and do something more constructive. It's still pissing down outside, has been since I was rudely awoken by the alarm on my mobile phone. It's now 0731hrs and it looks as if cycling is going to be the last thing on the agenda today.

Punctures, sore throats and dodgy brakes

Well, for a start, I'm back! God knows what happened, but for a few days it was impossible to get hold of this blog on either computer in the house. Anywhere else, fine, but not here; so imagine how pleased I was when I logged on and it sprung up (the site, nothing else, novisiblelycra isn't a porn site, for heaven's sake).

Anyway, no cycling at all this weekend for the simple reason that there was something wrong with all of our bikes. Andy was fixing new brakes to his and was having a few problems; my brakes were non-existent and need to be replaced; and Jon's bike had a puncture, possibly the same one and, on top of that, he hasn't managed to shake off that sore throat.

Saturday was fine in terms of the weather, but Sunday was bad: it rained on and off all day long, so there was a definite chance that, had we all been fine, the cycle would have been aborted.

Today (Tuesday 23 Feb 2010) it looks as if it has been raining. Outside it is very overcast and grey and will probably rain. Yesterday it rained all day. I need to take my bike into Evan's (a cycle shop in West Croydon) to get the brakes sorted out before the weekend and, hopefully, a trip to Merstham, our new destination.