Bill Moggridge, inventor of the laptop, dies...

I thought I would mention the death, announced today, of Bill Moggridge, inventor of the modern laptop. Whether there's a family link between the late, great Bill and the UK-based Moggridge family, of which I am a member, I don't know, but considering that Bill invented the laptop, I thought it worth a mention on the pages of NoVisibleLycra.

Bill Moggridge, inventor of the laptop computer.

Sadly, Bill didn't enjoy a long life like my dad, but here's hoping he didn't suffer.

I know it's vain to Google yourself, but when I'm bored or at a loose end, I often click on 'images' where, among my own mug shots, I find photos of Bill Moggridge, one of which I've posted here. I'm guessing that Bill, when he was bored, probably Googled himself and found shots of yours truly.

My late father, Gerald Moggridge, who died on May 15th 2011, was a keen geneaologist. He never Googled himself for the simple fact that he wasn't on-line.

I now possess a proof copy of dad's excellent history of the Moggridge family, which spans 1680 to the present day. When it's generally available on Amazon, I'll post again, providing the link, but let me tell you now that's it's a work of sheer historical genius.

Click here for more on the late, great Bill Moggridge.

Two years ago....

Click here to find out more.

Andy rides Caterham-Brighton-Caterham

Andy, Brighton Beach, Saturday September 10th 2012.

Saturday 8th September: Hot weather. Very hot. But Andy was up with the lark and en route to Brighton from his home in Caterham. It wasn't easy, but he did well, arriving at the coast at 10am. Here's a shot of Andy on the beachfront. The cycle back was hard due to the heat, but he did it and still managed to meet me the following day at 0730hrs on Warlingham Green for a shortish ride to the Tatsfield bus stop, although he admitted that an 'abort' text from me would have been well-received.

We cycled to the Tatsfield bus stop, drank our tea, munched on our cereal bars and then rode home. It's a wonderful day. Very hot as I write this at 1045hrs. Time, perhaps, for a trip to the beach!

Something worth listening to...

... while noting that 'listen' is an anagram of 'silent'.

Click here for Bob Chilcott's Making Waves.

Enjoy the peace.

Everything stops without tea...

Tea - the lifeblood of NoVisibleLycra rides. Not to be overlooked again!!!

NoVisibleLycra discovered that tea is at the centre of its cycling universe. Without it, life just isn't the same. This Sunday, due to some mild texting confusion, tea was not produced for the Sunday ride to Westerham. Andy had been expecting friends from work to join the ride and thought it probably best that we all visited the tearoom on the green rather than try and squeeze four cups of tea out of the NVL flask. In all honesty, it would have been fine: we would all have had one mug of tea each. Normally, Andy and I have two mugs each.

Anyway, I'd received a text saying 'don't worry about tea', so I didn't. If I'm on honest, I was expecting The Saturdays. I figured that somehow, Andy had spoken to their management, possibly sent them a link to the infamous 'hot tubs' post and, well, they'd said they might join us on the ride.

But when I arrived at Warlingham Green, there was nobody there except for Andy, although I still held out a glimmer of hope that they'd be waiting for us in Westerham.

Another problem was the time: we had agreed to meet at 7am instead of 7.30am and when we reached Westerham at 8am, everything was closed.

"Oh, I didn't make the tea," said I, reminding Andy of the text he'd sent me.

There was no sign of The Saturdays and then Andy let the cat out of the bag. "A couple of guys from the office were going to join us, but I think the early start put them off," he said.

"Oh," said I, concealing my disappointment.

To make matters a little more disappointing, the bench behind Churchill's statue was wet so we decamped to the benches in front of the underwear shop, a timely reminder of The Saturdays' absence.

Andy brought out the cereal bars, but without a mug or two of tea our lives were clearly empty and our 'tealess' state nagged at both of us. I gazed up at a clock perched over the shops to our left. It was 8am. By five past we were ready to leave.

"It's not the same without tea, is it?" said I.
"No, you're right," said Andy as we pedalled out of Westerham towards the hill.

It was a good ride, though, and Andy and I bade farewell to one another at Warlingham Green and then went our separate ways.

When I reached home it was 9.15am and we'd been all the way to Westerham and back. A combination of no tea and an early start provided a valuable brownie point back home as I'm not normally expected until 10.30am!

Next Saturday, Andy and a couple of pals are riding from Caterham to Brighton and back. It's an 80-miler, says Andy who's done it before, and while I'd like to join them, I can't due to other commitments. Hopefully, we'll ride out together on Sunday.

On the weather front, by the way, we got a mild soaking on the return trip, despite television weather forecasters saying that Sunday would be a scorcher. It wasn't cold, but it was generally overcast and grey.

Cycling pix from Andy's ride

Woldingham near the railway station. Nice shot.

The Ridge between Gangers Hill and Botley Hill. Love the sun rays.

Camping's not for me...

Andy's Blast and yours truly on Westerham Green.

First, don't say I haven't tried. In 2009 I spent over £200 on a tent. Alright, it was an eight-man tent and we didn't need it to be so big, but there you have it: a Eurohike Buckingham from Millets. It's so heavy when packed up that I can barely lift it to the car. But lifting it is nothing compared to putting it up. The first time was in the New Forest and I managed to get help from friends; the second time, the same (help from friends) but for me one of the big daunting things about going camping is erecting the tent. I should have bought something smaller. A four-man tent would have sufficed, but no, I had to go and buy a huge tent instead – and, of course, I'm paying for it. Big time!

The Eurohike Buckingham – it's going on Ebay.

But that's not all that's wrong with camping. My view is this: I'm happy to go camping if, say, I'm walking the Pennines with a tent on my back and some de-hydrated food in the rucksack. I'm happy to pitch a smallish, one- or two-man tent in a field, miles from civilization and camp under the stars en route to my end destination if there's no B&Bs or small hotels in the vicinity. That's fine, but why make camping a recreational activity beyond that? Where is the holiday in pitching a huge tent in a field alongside loads of other huge tents and then, when you need a leak in the middle of the night you have to unzip the tent door and stand around in misty, dewey, damp night air taking a wazz. Fortunately, I'm a bloke. A woman would have a little more aggravation. Perhaps that's why you rarely hear of women going outside the tent at night for a wee. I can't think of any occasions.

Equestrian sports at the Edenbridge & Oxted Show

Then, there's having a wash and a shower: you can't just stay put, you have to walk 100 yards or more to the washrooms, which, invariably, are full of unflushed toilets, used bandages and horrible smells. And now I've noticed a new thing: people emptying out what can only be described as 'toilet buckets' somewhere – presumably down the toilets in the washrooms. Yes, you can see people, in their dressing gowns, holding a plastic bucket full of shit, en route to the same washroom where you're planning to have a wash and shave. They look at you knowingly as they pass and might even say something like, 'I'm not relishing this job'. No, I bet you're not, so why make a holiday out of it?

Motorcycle stunt riders in action

I just don't get it, but I try until the other big stumbling block, that particularly affects me, hits hard: disorganisation. I wish I was like my pal. He's so organised it hurts! Always has been and it's a great quality. I envy him. Me? I'm just not like that.

When I realised that camping was game on I just got the tent out of the attic, shoved it and a few sleeping bags into the back of the car and drove to Corfe Castle. I only packed a double airbed - for my wife and daughter – I forgot that my daughter might have out-grown her child-size sleeping bag and I just hadn't counted on the fact that they both hate camping.

Classic cars – there were quite a few Triumphs

Night one: no way was I getting any sleep and neither was my daughter. She was cold and uncomfortable and decided it best just not to talk for the entire time we were away – which was not for long. A rain-drenched day walking around Swanage followed. My daughter wore a long face and didn't smile or talk. She didn't eat anything either. She wanted out and so did my wife. Admittedly I did too and had said as much the night before, but I figured that an airbed would solve my issues and that a full-sized bag for my daughter would solve her's. But no, they both wanted out and so we had to leave after just one night.

I drove home through driving rain, reached the house by around 10pm and then spent Saturday doing mundane things like shopping and drying out the tent on the back lawn (it's now in the garage awaiting another session of drying, hopefully today, although rain is promised). Generally, I feel bad about coming away when all I needed to do was buy a sleeping bag and an airbed, but my wife and daughter were not prepared to make that the solution and besides, I'm well in the red financially and couldn't cope with even a smallish purchase like a sleeping bag and air bed. Even if I had bought them, the pressure was on to just come home and I've spent the weekend occasionally wimpering about the whole thing. Still, you live and learn and we all made a decision: no more camping.

Birds of prey aplenty – I think it's an eagle, not sure

To add to our woes, while we were away, some nob cheese climbed over the side gate, broke into the garage and stole one of our mountain bikes. Unfortunately for whoever it was, the bike in question was not in good nick and was virtually useless (as I'm sure he or she discovered). The police were called and, of course, we can get money off the insurance for the stolen bike. Amazingly, my top-of-the-range Kona was still there – because it was padlocked (thank the Lord!). My daughter's bike, which was unpadlocked, was still there too. Perhaps they didn't want a girl's bike.

Alpacas too!

Being home, meant that I could re-instate my planned ride with Andy. We met early (at 7am on Warlingham Green) and headed for Westerham where we did what we always do: drink tea and munch on cereal bars before heading back home.

Cycling is good as it often gives you ideas for things to do over the weekend. In my case, the Edenbridge and Oxted Show, which was frequently advertised along the roadside, seemed like a good idea so I set off with the mother-in-law, wife and daughter to Lingfield for what proved to be an amazing day out. We got there around 3pm and entered the showground where there was a load of stuff to do: classic cars, motorcycle stunt teams, equestrian stuff involving stuffy-looking toffs riding around in seemingly period costume, hoping for a place in the Horse of the Year Show, which I'm assuming is later in the year. There was a flower show, prize vegetables, plenty of exhibition stands, a fairground, prize cows, rabbits and chickens, cake competitions, you name it, the Edenbridge & Oxted Show had it. We had a tremendous day and the whole thing was rounded off with a takeaway curry. In other words, all's well that ends well.

Andy goes it alone to Westerham

Andy's Kona Blast resting against Churchill's statue, Sunday 19th Aug 2012

To be honest, I've been feeling fatigued and sleepy. It's probably got a lot to do with flying back from Atlanta and not really taking it that easy. I'd planned to avoid cycling on Saturday, but had every intenton of riding to Westerham on Sunday – but it was a hot night and I got very little sleep and around 5am in the morning I sent the infamous 'abort' text.

Andy, however, did go out, and here's the photographic evidence.

Saying goodbye to Atlanta and coming home...

Well, it was time to head home and the prospect of a night flight was pretty daunting. Why? Because I can't sleep on planes and it means foregoing a night's sleep. I was flying on BA226 from Atlanta to London Heathrow and, well, it was horrible.

For a start, turbulence. I hate turbulence, but it never seems to bother ANYONE else on the plane. Other passengers happily carry on conversation, read newspapers, even queue for the toilets, while I grip hard on the seat in front of me and sweat profusely. Cloud normally brings turbulence and that's another reason why I don't like night flights: I can't see the clouds out there. I only choose a window seat because I like to see what's going on. And if there's turbulence, by looking out of the window (during the day) I can at least comfort myself with the knowledge that the plane is in an upright position.

The problem with a window seat, of course, is that your general freedom is curtailed. If you want to get up and stretch your legs, you tend not to, because you don't want to disturb your fellow passengers, who, invariably, are asleep. How can they sleep? So I sat there, feeling very uncomfortable throughout the journey.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, there were quite a few bumpy bits coming over and then, when we reached the airspace over Heathrow, we had to circle a dozen or so times before landing. I took the Express into Paddington, then the Bakerloo to Victoria and a train home, where, thankfully, a lift awaited me. I've had a nap and now I ought to be heading off to bed, but I've got to finish my blog coverage of the trip and this is it.

Here, then, is a collection of photos with brief explanations of what they are.

Inside Tap, a real ale bar on Peachtree and 14th, Atlanta.

The photo on the left was taken in Tap, a gastro pub in Atlanta on Peachtree and 14th. It was here that my pal Sean Seymour, his fiance Joan and myself met for a lunch time beer on the day I flew back to Atlanta. There's some good beers here, both local brews and foreign stuff – even Old Speckled Hen from the UK. Bombardier too and, of course, Guinness from Ireland. But the best beers were the locally brewed varieties from companies such as Sweetwater, to name but one. Very, very nice beers and I could have sat there all afternoon enjoying a few more.

Tap's blackboard menu.

In fact, the next photograph shows a blackboard of special beers, including Old Speckled Hen. There's also an extensive list of other beers, a kind of beer menu, and there's food available too.

What I loved about Atlanta was the climate: it was hot and according to most of the people I spoke to out there, the weather's always good. They tend not to get snow, but can get ice during the winter months (December through March) but by March the weather is normally good again.

A shot of Peachtree, opposite Tap.

The Marta – I wouldn't take it late at night.

The shot on the left is of a general street scene at Peachtree and 14th, just across the road from Tap. You can see the bright sunshine and can just imagine how most people have a bright outlook as a result. Is it no wonder that in places were there is very little sunlight - think northern Scandinavia and Alaska – there are drink-related social issues? In the UK this year, we've had very little in the way of summer and it's depressing. I was feeling decidedly upbeat in Atlanta, mainly because of the sunny weather. it makes you feel good.

More of a tea 'sack' than a tea 'bag'.

I've mentioned the Marta in a previous post and ok, it doesn't have a brilliant press and people I spoke to said if you ride it, just don't catch people's eye. Well, there are a few 'undesirables' riding the Marta but it's the cheapest way to get from one end of town to the other, especially the airport, so I took it from Lenox, using a Breeze card. I didn't encounter any problems.

Whenever I fly off anywhere I always get to the airport miles too early and spend my time shuffling around the terminal looking in shop windows, flicking through books and then having a coffee somewhere. I stopped at a place on Atlanta airport, beyond passport control, and ordered a grilled chicken roll and a cup of tea. What amazed my about the tea was the size of the teabag – not so much a tea 'bag', but more a tea 'sack'. Just look at the size of it (see pic).

This shot sums up Atlanta for me: sunshine and skyscrapers

Tap is located at the junction with Peachtree St and 14th.

And that just about rounds up my trip to Montreal and Atlanta. They were both great cities for different reasons and while I liked Montreal because you could literally walk for miles and ride for miles too, Atlanta had the weather and I've always loved the Americans. The best hotel of the trip was the Holiday Inn, Montreal, but the best service went to the Marriott where the front desk staff were simply excellent – friendly, helpful and prepared to go out on a limb for their guests. The Holiday Inn offered free wifi in the rooms, which was great. Having to trek down to the reception to use my laptop was a bit of a pain.

• Postscript: One thing I NEVER saw in Montreal, by the way, was a Kona bicycle. Everything else: Trek, Specialized and so on, but no Kona bikes. Why? That's a question for the guys at Kona (it's a Canadian bike company).

Rain stops my swim...so I'm off to the mall

I had planned to take a dip in the Atlanta Marriott's outdoor pool, but it was raining this morning and has only just stopped. The rain, of course, has cooled things down a little, which is good, but I'm now checked out of the hotel and at a loose end until I fly off later on today. So, I'm sitting in the hotel reception area, considering a walk across to the Lenox Mall and then I might stroll down to Peachtree and 14th where there's a bar called Tap. I'm going to meet Sean for a quick beer. He's at work so it's a lunchtime drink, and then I'll probably hit the mall again before getting the Marta down to the airport.

Marriott Atlanta reception looking out on Lenox.

I know, I was told that the Marta attracts a lot of undesirable types and yes, it does, but it's fast and it takes me straight to the airport. The alternative is an expensive cab ride. I haven't actually checked how much the cab will cost, but I'm guessing around $50 or more so the Marta it is!

The rain's stopped, but it's a little cloudy out there, but still warm. There's something unappealing about swimming in the rain so I didn't bother. Shame as it would have rounded off the trip. I couldn't cycle here as there are no Bixi bike equivalents. Or rather there might be, but they'll be downtown and I'm in Buckhead.

The mall is appealing, though. Might get a coffee and a bun and do a spot of people watching. Or I could stroll down to Peachtree and 14th. Not sure, but either way, I'm now going to sign off. The photograph accompanying this post is of the hotel's reception area – or a bit of it.