Cycling over 16 and 17 October – an uneventful weekend...

Tatsfield won Double Gold in the 2010 Britain in Bloom competition.

A brief word on last weekend's cycling. Last Saturday, nothing, but on Sunday Andy and I went to Tatsfield Village where we drank some tea, had a chat and ended up back home. Not a good weekend for cycling, but hopefully we'll make up for it this weekend. Jon's back from his holiday (I think he went to Sorrento for a week) so we might be heading off for Hunger's End and a nice breakfast.

Generally speaking, the weather is getting colder. I've noticed the car has frost on the windscreen now, which is a sign of bad weather. Andy has stopped wearing his shorts and I think that this weekend I'll definitely be wearing my gloves.

It's also getting a bit dark in the mornings, although this weekend I think the clocks go back – another sign of winter! Dark mornings mean that Andy will start reminding me that I don't have a rear light. I need to get that sorted immediately – but then again, I've been saying that for the past four years.

Smithy, the no-nonsense racehorse – and me!

Yours truly (on the left!) with Smithy, the John Smith's No Nonsense racehorse.
This shot was taken at the stables of Ginger and Donald McCain, two extremely
good racehorse trainers. Ginger, who turned 80 recently, was the trainer behind
the great Red Rum. Suitable captions please! But come on, what a great-looking
horse – and I don't look too bad either!

Blue skies and sunshine – in October

Blue skies along Pilgrim's Lane on Sunday 10th October 2010

Just thought I'd throw in this shot taken around 10.30am on Sunday morning, October 10th, just to show how amazing the weather was last weekend.

To Hunger's End and Longford Lake...

In another shameful display of either sheer laziness or pure fatigue – although more likely a bit of both – I took the train home from Merstham after our cycle to Hunger's End where we enjoyed tea and toast and a read of The Sun.

Map shows Merstham High Street, home of Hunger's End
and, of course, Merstham Railway Station.

As promised by the weathermen, the weekend was good. Not sunny on Saturday (as predicted) but not raining and not cold. Andy is still wearing his shorts, put it that way, and I'm not yet reaching for the gloves, so the weather's been pretty mild and we've yet to get a soaking. In fact, as we discussed, we've managed to avoid a soaking since the beginning of the year. I say the beginning of the year, but it was probably something like April or May, I'll have to check the archive. I've checked and, believe it or not, it was August 1st on the way back from Westerham.

I wasn't really up for cycling to Merstham to be honest as I'd not slept well and had woken up around 0350hrs and then found it difficult to get back to sleep. The week prior, I'd managed to walk the best part of 30 miles (roughly six miles a day, five days a week) and that must have contributed to my general state of weariness, although the lack of sleep the night before the ride did it for me.

Shameful evidence! My bike spotted by the fitness police
outside of Merstham Station, Saturday 9 October 2010.

The ride was good and we decided to go 'the short way' by turning right on the A25 and not going across and down towards Church Town and the Enterdent.

After bidding farewell to Andy who, to be fair, had a shorter return ride than I would have had, I loitered around the music shop looking at the bass guitars before free-wheeling down to the station and buying a ticket to Purley, from where I cycled home.

At Purley, one of the minicab drivers outside the station stopped me to discuss my unusual saddle. He was refering, of course, to the Spongy Wonder. We chatted for a while and then off I went home to work out what to do with the rest of my weekend.

Off-road outside of Westerham, en route to Longford Lake.
The sun shows through the trees around 8am, Sunday 10 October.

Sunday saw us riding along Pilgrim's Lane towards Longford Lake in Chevening, Kent. A nice ride and I was feeling much more alive. We talked about this and that but our main topic of conversation, which we'd started in Merstham, was the EuroMillions British winner of the £110 million jackpot. What, we wondered, would we do with such a huge sum of money? We both agreed that we could offload around £30 million to friends and family, but that would still leave £80 million.

My plan would be to invest in property as I simply don't trust the banks anymore. I'd probably build a few housing estates for those who can't afford to buy their own house, holiday lets, that sort of thing; and I'd definitely travel around the UK visiting hospitals and finding out what they needed in the way of scanners and such like. I'd like to see whole hospital wings built using my money and possibly named The Moggridge Ward or whatever, some kind of lasting memento of my philanthropy.


Our big question as we returned home from the lake was how Camelot hand over the money. Do they place it electronically in the winner's bank account or hand them a cheque? How worrying it would all become in the sense of not being able to trust the banks. There is, of course, a £50,000 limit on monies refundable should the bank or banks go bust, meaning that you'd have a load of different bank and building society accounts. I reckon that you could put away a couple of million in that way, ie £50,000 in the Halifax, Lloyds, Nat West and so on, then, of course, you could whack away £30,000 in premium bonds, but remember we're dealing with something like £70 million after you've been generous with friends and family. Oh, and all that philanthropy would bring it down a bit too, but what a headache! I wonder if Camelot has it's own bank? The Bank of Camelot. That simply doesn't sound right. A bit like Toytown Bank when you were a kid and I know I wouldn't invest my hard-won cash in THAT bank!

My bike resting against a fence along Pilgrim's Lane.

I wonder if winners get offered a choice, ie would you like several cheques of £50,000 made payable to different banks and building societies? Yes, please!

Either way, it made no difference to Andy and I as we didn't win. I don't think Andy got any of the numbers and I only got number 35. In fact, the only reason I bought a Euromillions ticket (I bought two, one was a lucky dip) was because a man with no right hand in Belgravia made me a cup of tea and brought me one of the slips to fill in. I figured: man with one hand, this could be some strange soothsayer from another dimension offering me fame and fortune, so I filled it in and exchanged it for a ticket and then hoped for the best.

Andy on Pilgrims Lane, Sunday 10th October 2010.

But Andy and I cycled home, in the heat (Sunday was like a mid-summer's day) knowing we'd both be going to work on Monday and not having to worry about how we would keep track of hundreds of bank and building society accounts and fretting about how the banks might be trying to swindle us. In many ways, I think we were both glad we hadn't won the jackpot – but no, I think that's a load of old rubbish as we'd both love to have the headache of simply looking at bank statements once a month.

The lottery is like a religion, it provides false hopes to millions.

Hot weekend promised...let's make the most of it!!!

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

The weathermen are promising a hot weekend in the UK, so let's make the most of it!

Odd photograph of the week

Phil Tufnell in his pyjamas on Victoria Station

This is former England cricketer Phil 'Tuffers' Tufnell on Victoria Station last week. He's chatting by some kind of video link to Jodie Marsh, the former Sun Page Three Model who, no doubt, was somewhere equally public talking to Tuffers. There was somebody else in the conversation but his name escapes me. Either way, Tuffers was advertising some new form of three-way video telecoms system. A woman handing out Travelcard holders asked me if I had anything I'd like to ask Tuffers. My question would have been, "Why the fuck are you in your pyjamas talking to Jodie Marsh on Victoria Station in the rush hour?" Needless to say he'd have mentioned that he was getting paid a considerable sum of money for simply acting the fool. Nice work if you can get it.

To Hunger's End in Merstham...

Saturday October 2nd: Running late, by about five minutes, because I'd mislaid my keys, but I headed out towards to the top of Church Way and on to the B269 en route to Warlingham Green. Mist hung in the trees but the skies, while grey in places, let through the sun and I just knew there would be no rain. Not until later at any rate. The weather forecasters had been promising rain and later on in the day we got it, but for Andy and I it was a dry run.

We decided to go to Hunger's End, a place we'd neglected for some time. I called Jon and told him our plans but only via his voicemail. We never saw him.

Single from Merstham to Sanderstead, but I got off at Purley

Once again, I was feeling tired having been 'up north' the day before with the racehorse trainer Ginger McCain and his son Donald. No, I wasn't buying a racehorse, I was up there to write about Smithy, a racehorse owned by Heineken UK. Ginger and I sat in his living room watching Sky's coverage of the Ryder Cup. I say coverage of the Ryder Cup, it was mostly men mopping up rainwater and, of course, an eventual announcement that the tournament had ceased due to excessive rain.

The night before I'd stayed in the Cholmondeley Arms in Cholmondeley (pronounced Chumley) and then I was given a lift to the stables by the proprietor. I had travelled from home to Whitchurch by train and had been ripped off by Virgin Trains, having to pay a ridiculous £108 for a single ticket. Anyway, having met the horse, interviewed Ginger's brother Donald and drank a cup of tea, I made my way back to Whitchurch (what a run-down place) and a train to Crewe and then London. The return journey only cost me £60.

So I was tired (again) or at least thinking about a shorter cycle, but by the time I was on the B269, my energy reserves returned and, on reaching the green Andy and I decided to go for Hunger's End. It was 0752, getting late, but we headed off through Woldingham and down Gangers Hill but decided not to cross the A25 – which would have meant The Enterdent. Instead, we travelled along the A25, shaving off a good 20 to 30 minutes. We'd have been late had we taken our usual route, but equally, I was relieved that we were avoiding The Enterdent as I wasn't in the mood.

Hunger's End had changed. It had been given a lick of paint and the proprietor told me she was getting rid of the sofas and installing a deli. Nice idea, but I like sofas in caffs. We ordered tea and toast, we read The Sun and we spoke to the lively aunt of the proprietor who was over from Egham in Surrey as it was her 73rd birthday. The proprietor's aunt was a keen cyclist, which is probably why she was so sprightly. She's a member of the CTC, the UK's national cycling organisation (click here for more details).

After one cup of tea and a couple of slices of toast, we decided to have one more. We read The Sun, commented on the two page-three girls and that was it. Except that I was not feeling like cycling home up Markedge Lane towards Chipstead. I know, it's terrible and I did feel pangs of defeat in my decision to get the train. In fact, as the train made its way north towards it's ultimate destination, London Bridge, I resolved to get off at Purley and cycle home from there.

What was really annoying about Sunday October 3rd was our decision not to go cycling because of the expected rain. Admittedly, both Andy and I had a late night on Saturday, so going cycling wasn't really on the agenda, but when I looked out of the window at 7am, the weather was fine; it wasn't until much later that the rain started.

Early nights, then, are the order of the week and then, if there's no rain next week, we'll have a good cycle.

The Tatsfield bus stop – twice!

The Tatsfield Bus Stop, September 25th 2010.

Having over-indulged on the ale on Friday night, it was touch and go as to whether I'd go cycling on Saturday morning. I woke up feeling fine (several pints, yes, but it was only 3.8 per cent abv) but there was a kind of weariness that led me to hang around and not go for an early morning jaunt. I called Jon but he was going to see Arsenal v West Bromwich Albion and couldn't make it. Alas, it was down to me to motivate myself. I'd figured on a shortish ride to Woodmansterne Green, but now it was looking like Botley Hill, but not yet, not so early.

Blue skies at the bus stop on Saturday (above) but cloud and drizzle on Sunday.

Eventually, I left the house around a quarter to nine and headed off with a mild headache, nothing the fresh air couldn't deal with; the sun was shining and while there was definitely an end of September bite to the air – and I considered gloves and a scarf, but made do with a V-necked jumper – the weather, generally was fine. It was only a little chilly cycling down hill or in the shade. In fact, once I was out and beyond that bus stop on the A269 that signifies the end of the first hilly part of the route, I was feeling fine. So fine, in fact, that I realised, foolishly perhaps, that I was in one of those moods that meant I could cycle for ever and a day. In fact, had I not been constrained by the mundanity of domesticity, I'd have probably just carried on, through Westerham, further east and God knows where I'd have ended up.

As NoVisibleLycra celebrates its first anniversary, the sign that
characterises the website is uprooted. This shot taken on Saturday 25th
September.

I planned to cycle into Tatsfield Village but on reaching the famous bus stop, I spotted the road sign that features on the home page of this blog (just look up to the top of the page and you'll see it). It had been uprooted and was lying on its side on the grass. Was it hit by a lorry or a car or had somebody deliberately uprooted it? I would never know.

I sat and drank tea alone at the bus stop, flicking my teabags on to the grass in front of the bus stop in training for a game with Andy on Sunday (we always see who can flick their teabags the furthest).

I headed back home via Beddlestead Lane and Hesiers Hill, emerging at Warlingham Sainsbury's and then heading home for a morning of cleaning out the garage.

Cycling up Hesiers Hill, I began to wish I'd gone home the 'fast way', but, like all hills, it was a matter of getting my head down and getting on with it. Soon I was home, reading the Guardian and getting ready to tidy up the garage.

Sunday (today) Andy and I went to the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Why? Well, we were going to head into the village but it started to rain and we narrowly avoided a soaking, taking refuge at the bus stop where we drank tea, chatted about opening our own cycle shop and talked about this and that, although we didn't discuss Ed Miliband being appointed the new leader of the Labour Party or the Iranian president, Mr 'I'm a Dinner Jacket' having a go at the UN and blaming 9/11 on the Americans.

We cycled home the fast way, said goodbye at Warlingham Green and here I am, home and dry – we managed to avoid the rain and now it's looking a little brighter outside. I've got to make roast potatoes and cocktail sausages and I'd better get started!

Tired

I would be foolish to say that walking a total of 20 miles, wearing a fairly heavy back pack (carrying a lap top and other stuff) was not behind the general feeling of tiredness that hit me square in the face on Friday evening. I'd been doing about five miles a day, since Tuesday, and then, on Saturday, I was up and out of the house early for a cycle. To be honest, I wasn't feeling up to it and was tempted, not to abort the ride, but to say something naff like, "Let's just go to the bus stop."

Andy contemplates life in the Old Forge Deli Café on Godstone Green

Instead, we cycled to Godstone where we paid a visit to the Old Forge Deli Café and, I think, got ripped off. If a cup of tea is 80p and a slice of toast 50p, then my bill for a cup of tea and two slices of toast should have been £1.80. Why, then, was I charged £2.30? In true British style, of course, I said nothing, but that was because I hadn't actually worked out the prices; I just knew that I had £2.50 in my pocket and that my order, surely, wouldn't cost the lot. It didn't: I got 20p change.

I then emptied my flask of water on Godstone Green and Andy and I cycled back home, dreading the hill that awaited us on the other side of the A25. It wasn't too bad, though.

Sunday just didn't happen. Andy wasn't going anyway, meaning that it was down to my own motivation to get up and go; but I couldn't muster up the energy. I got out of bed, I had a mug of tea around 7am and I reluctantly put on my cycling gear in readiness to head outside. Instead, though, I paced around, wondering whether to go or not. I considered ringing Jon, but thought I'd leave it, hoping that he'd call me – but he didn't; he was thinking the same way as I was and, besides, he'd been out already, on a three-mile run, in early training for the April 2011 Marathon. I was reminded of that great quote from "uncle" John, the neighbour next door but one back at mum and dad's. He used to say, "Animals only run if they have to." Never a truer word and all that! Still, each to their own. I just can't get on with running.

The Kona Scrap resting against a tree on Godstone Green

Anyway, that was it, I didn't go cycling on Sunday despite pacing the house, taking my shoes on and off – at one stage having one on and one off – and, well, it's just not good is it? On one side I wanted to go and hated that whole thing about not getting out in the air; but on the other side, I was whacked out and couldn't face it. In the end, general fatigue won the day and I lolled around all morning, inwardly pissed off for not getting my act together, but, in a way, my body was relieved that I hadn't set foot in the garage.

I'd love to go out there now and discover a puncture. That way I could say to myself, "Oh, well, I wouldn't have been able to go anyway!"

Photograph of the Week

Warning! Ducks!

This sign is prominent as drivers and riders enter the village of Tatsfield.