Bank Holiday Weekend – the Tatsfield Bus Stop and then the Village

Saturday was a little on the cool side when I left the house around 0700hrs. The skies were a greyish colour, but there were blue skies poking through as I pedalled along Ellenbridge Road en route to Warlingham Green to meet Andy. While we'd talked about riding to Bletchingley, we went instead to the Tatsfield bus stop where we met and chatted with Dawes Galaxy. No photographs were taken.

The Old Ship, Tatsfield, has been given a coat of paint and some galleons

On Sunday there was plenty of evidence that it had rained heavily during the night – there were puddles and a general gloom in the air and signs of rain and dampness everywhere. I texted Andy to say it might be best sticking to a conventional route rather than branching out and being caught in the rain. We opted for Tatsfield village and rode leisurely along the 269 towards Botley Hill seeing nothing of yesterday morning's propellor-powered hang gliders.

The Tatsfield village noticeboard – complete with colourful floral display

We're almost into September and it's getting towards the time of year when our destination is determined by whether or not the seats will be damp when we arrive. Normally this means we spend a lot of time at the Tatsfield bus stop as it provides shelter from the rain and invariably offers a dry bench on which to sit. Going anywhere else would mean standing up to drink our tea and we can't have that, can we? In fact, with the exception of the bus stop and Tatsfield village, there's very little in the way of shelter at any of our destinations.

Yesterday, as we approached 'our' bus stop on the Approach Road, we spied a Lycra monkey relaxing on our bench. He was waiting for his associates to fix a puncture further back along the road and then he (and them) would be heading for Edenbridge to tackle a few punishing hills, he said. We told him about White Lane across the way from where we were standing and explained how, once a year, there was some kind of time trail. We had attempted the climb and I remember having to dismount half way up, but Andy made it all the way; it's about maintaining momentum and keeping the front wheel on the ground.

Gimme shelter – but not today

The rain held off and we soon found ourselves in Tatsfield village where we noticed that the Old Ship pub had been painted and a couple of galleons had been left on the window sills facing the small green. We decided to sit on the circular wooden table outside the pub rather than use the bus stop – the seats were dry – and soon we spied Dawes Galaxy (odd to see him twice in one weekend). He joined us for a chinwag and told us that, apparently, Tatsfield was the most isolated village inside the M25 – a hefty claim, we thought, but it could be right as there's not much in either direction once you're outside of the village. It's about two to three miles to Westerham in one direction and around three to four miles to Warlingham and there's not much in between. In the other direction there's Biggin Hill, but in between there is nothing but rural lanes – or so says Dawes Galaxy. In fact there's nothing but twisty lanes in the direction of Addington either so, all told, Tatsfield is fairly isolated. As Andy pointed out as we rode towards Botley Hill, it's about 25 to 30 minutes by bike to Warlingham Green and no more than 10 to 15 minutes (downhill) into Westerham.

This Tatsfield restaurant offers a Sunday roast at £25.95 per person

There's an expensive restaurant in Tatsfield (isolated or not the residents won't starve – or perhaps they will when you consider the extortionate prices being charged). I went over and checked out the menu: £25.95 per person for a Sunday roast, meaning that with wine it's probably closer to £30 or more – not my cup of tea, especially when I could pay a visit to my local Waitrose, buy a decent joint of beef and a fine bottle of wine (or two) and feed a few friends for about £30.

One of two model galleons at the Old Ship, Tatsfield

Last night Andy watched Red Bull Rampage, a downhill cycling event characterised by very narrow tracks and almost vertical drops. Apparently those who take part often brag about their injuries – broken backs, bruised livers, damaged spleens, you name it. We wondered what the contestants would make of a leisurely jaunt with NVL to the Tatsfield bus stop. I imagined the scene: Andy and I plus some bleached blond American 'youth' wondering when there would be some 'action'.

"Would you care for a cup of tea, young man?"
"Tea? Haven't you got an energy drink?"
"You're not going to need one. Biscuit?"

We took a few snaps of the pub and the bikes and the galleon in the window and after finishing our tea and biscuits headed out of the village along the Approach Road and then west towards Botley Hill. Andy and I parted company halfway along the 269 and I rode on towards Warlingham Green and further north towards Sanderstead and home.

Our bikes outside the Old Ship, Tatsfield, Kent. Pic: Andy Smith.

It's almost noon but still no rain, but it's been predicted so we're expecting a downpour any second. Time to tidy myself up and see what the rest of the day has in store.

New rides worth investigating?

Prompted by my own criticism (in the last post) of our rather 'samey' cycling routes, I've been checking out the map and I've found what could be a good ride... to Bletchingley in Surrey. It's east of Redhill and yes, we've been through the place before – on our ride to Hunger's End in Merstham – but there's a pleasant-looking route, accessible through Caterham and via the Warwick Wold Road. In a nutshell it's the way I ride to Redhill via the backroads of Merstham but instead of hanging right where the Warwick Wold Road adjoins the Bletchingley Road, ironically we take the Merstham Road (by turning left) and this eventually becomes the Pendell Road and then either Big Common Lane (a right turn) or Little Common Lane (a left turn) and that leads us on to Castle Street in Bletchingley.

Once beyond the M25 we ride south to Bletchingley

There's some interesting alternatives too. We could, for instance, ride further east along the A25 and take a left turn into North Park Lane, under the M25 and on to some rough tracks where many options lurk. One of the tracks is Roughetts Lane, which I recall from our Hunger's End trips via the challenging Enterdent, or, alternatively there are rough off-road tracks leading into a huge wooded area, the easterly flank of which is known as Fosterdown Wood while the more westerley tip is referred to as Oldpark Shaw and the middle ground, Ten Acre Shaw. There's even a place called Tupwood Scrubs, but I don't think it's a prison! In fact, there is a Tupwood Scrubs Road that runs right through the wooded area and has two exit points, one on to the A22 heading east and another, heading north, on to the B2030 or Godstone Road, which appears to be right in the heart of Caterham, not far from the North Downs Hospital in the CR3 postal district.

Mercers Park near Redhill

The whole area south of central Caterham, flanked in the south by the M25, seems worthy of exploration, mainly because it's all a bit rural, loads of woods and open land and a few interesting off-road tracks. In fact, talking about off-road tracks, there's a track called Green Lane adjoining Roughetts Lane that travels south through fields with nothing on either side of it. The track becomes Church Lane and travels through the middle of Bletchingley Golf Course and emerges in Bletchingley High Street.

The woods south of Caterham en route to Bletchingley

If we really had the time and the inclination, from Bletchingley we could travel east on the A25, through Godstone and out the other side, still on the A25 and then take a left up Flower Lane, which becomes, yes, you guessed it, Gangers Hill – not good if, like me, you're relying on just eight of 16 gears, so probably not worth it and besides, too much A25 for my liking.

For a clearer look at the maps, simply click on them.

To the churchyard (again)

Things are really getting a little samey. We've kind of locked in to two routes – the bus stop and the churchyard – and we don't seem to be riding anywhere else. It's the usual excuse: time; and let's face it, riding anywhere is better than riding nowhere so perhaps we shouldn't complain, but I can't remember the last time we rode anywhere different, like Westerham or Redhill.

In fact, where Redhill is concerned, I know that on the outskirts of town, near the Watercolour estate, there is a huge lake similar in size and dimensions to another long lost cycling destination, Longford Lake in Chevening, Kent, which used to be an occasional destination (and one of the first rides I embarked upon with Phil back in May 2013 if I recall correctly.

My bike at the churchyard, Sunday 23rd August 2015

The weather was not as pleasant as Saturday (see previous post for details). It was warm but there was a stronger breeze, the trees swayed in the wind and there was more cloud, but no rain until just before noon so we escaped a soaking.

We rode to the churchyard, encountering nothing out of the ordinary en route and when we got there we drank tea and ate BelVita biscuits (three each) as we chatted about the something for nothing culture that has built up over the past 20 years. By that I mean that companies expect far more for nothing these days than in the past. PR companies want photography taken for nothing – "it might give you good exposure to other companies who will pay" – and similarly some publishers expect writers to contribute articles based on the assumption that more work will come out of it. But it rarely does. We both decided that it only works when there is something in it for both parties: a product is reviewed and you get to keep the product; you're sent, say, a top-of-the-range bike to review and obviously you get to ride it. Each party gets something out of the deal. But just to do something unpaid? It's not on and it goes way back to the person who dreamed up the idea of internships on one level and, on another, there's a certain arrogance in trying to get people to work for nothing, not to mention selfishness. The Internet is also to blame (isn't it always?) especially where photographers are concerned. How many times, I wonder, do photographers spy their work being used online without being paid for?

We didn't see anybody else at the churchyard, it was remarkably quiet apart from that motorway hiss I think I mentioned in a previous post. While we used to see people tending graves, or the church staff doing this and that, it's been very desolate the last few times we've been there and that ain't a bad thing.

The ride back was as uneventful as the outward journey. Andy branched off halfway down the 269 and, as usual, I pushed on towards Warlingham and home, getting back some time before 10am.

To Warlingham Green and then over to mum's...

I'd forgotten that Andy wasn't riding this morning and headed off around 0700hrs, having waved goodbye to Phil who was on his way to Devon for a week's holiday. It was a wonderful day, arguably one of the hottest this summer, with temperatures around 29 degrees Centrigrade.

Warlingham Green, Saturday 22nd August 2015, 0730hrs

As usual my first job was pumping up a deflated tyre – I have a slow puncture but have yet to fix it – then it was smooth-running all the way to the green where the trees sheltered me from the early morning sun as I awaited Andy's arrival, although, oddly, there was no sign of him. I had a distant feeling that he might not be riding so I sent him a text and sure enough, he wasn't going to be there – he was working and, as he rightly pointed out, he'd texted me earlier in the week. Somehow I'd just forgotten. I was getting confused with the week before when he had a dentist appointment on the Saturday, but would be riding Sunday. Hey Ho.

So I'd reached Warlingham Green and I had options: carry on to Botley Hill, the bus stop or the churchyard (where I could drink my tea) or ride to mum's and indulge myself with fruit cake and tea. There was another option: simply ride back home and accept that an eight-miler would suffice. But I chose the ride to mum's and decided to retrace my tracks back along the Limpsfield Road, taking a left turn at Hamsey Green heading down Tithepit Shaw Lane, past Warlingham School and on to the A22 towards Purley. It seemed like I was on the A22 for ages, but I wasn't bothered. There was a warm breeze and light traffic, but reaching the lights at the bottom of Downscourt Road felt good. All I had to do now was negotiate the rather tricky Purley Cross where the A23 and Foxley Lane and the A22 join up, but it wasn't a problem and soon I found myself riding the quiet, tree-lined Foxley Lane heading towards Woodmansterne, but branching off right near the lavender fields and riding towards Carshalton Beeches.

Tea and fruit cake round at mum's...

I sailed along, passing the Village Bakery and Carshalton Beeches railway station and then freewheeled down to the Windsor Castle pub where I hung a left and then a right into Shorts Road, under the railway bridge and then two left turns – on to Westmead Corner and then into Rossdale. Half an hour earlier I'd called mum to reserve a table at what I call the Grandma Claire Tea Rooms (mum's house) and soon I was sitting down, eating fruit cake (two slices) and enjoying a pleasant cup of tea.

Mum's having her fence done, but there are still two bits to be done and at present it's possible to see into next door's garden. It's not an issue and will be fixed very soon.

After two slices of cake it was tempting to ask for more, but I resisted. I also resisted a Kit Kat bar and a biscuit, but I did have a second cup of tea before heading home, riding up Alma Road, turning left on the Carshalton Road and then right up Cambridge Road, turning right at the top, riding a few yards of Carshalton Beeches high street before turning left and riding up hill towards the Village Bakery. I crossed into Crichton Road and then turned left on to Stanley Park Road. I cycled down to the mini roundabout at the bottom of Boundary Road and onwards to the top of Wallington High Street, past Sainsbury's and along the Stafford Road towards The Chase and that industrial estate that weaves its way round to the A23. I turned right and at the lights by the Hilton National hung a left.

The weather was wonderful, like a Texas spring, as I ambled past Rockingham's and the playing fields and then along Hayling Park Road to the A23 where I nipped into Jarvis Road, followed the Upper Selsdon Road towards Carlton Road and then hung a left into Essenden, a right on to West Hill and home. I was trying to work out the mileage – four miles to Warlingham Green then something like 10 miles from the green to mum's and an easy six miles from mum's to Sanderstead – 20 miles in total.

It was 10am when I opened the garage door and parked up the bike and a wonderful day of just lazing about in the back garden beckoned. We went shopping, I bought The Guardian and sat out back reading about all sorts of things: an interview with Jonathan Franzen (which I didn't particularly like, it was just, well, it was nothing to write home about). Then there was Tim Dowling. I like Tim Dowling's column and this week he was writing about his Greek holiday. Holidays are alien territory for me at present. Then there was Rita Ora's Q&A, all good stuff, not forgetting Nicholas Lyndhurst, who was born in Emsworth, Hampshire, discussing family life, and a travel feature about the Greek islands I remember visiting back in the early eighties.

It's gone 7pm (just) and Indiana Jones is on the television. Nobody is watching it. I can hear it, but that's about it. Indiana Jones and something to do with a Crystal Skull. You get the picture, you know the deal, and that's why nobody's watching it. Dinner beckons and then it's Sunday. I often feel as if I'm just sitting around waiting for Monday and another week of work, but there's a bottle of Rosé in the fridge and I've just enjoyed a bottle of London Pride so life ain't all bad. Looking forward to tomorrow's ride, I really am. Cycling is the best tonic there is these days and I sometimes wish I could just keep on riding, at least for a day or two. The weather's so good out there I'd like to camp in the back garden, but not in the huge tent I own, something smaller.

Somebody's switched the channels and now Would I Lie to You? is on. I can hear Rob Brydon's voice.

Hawker Hunter fighter

In the news: a Hawker Hunter vintage fighter jet crashed on the A27 near Shoreham in West Sussex killing a handful of people. The pilot, apparently, survived the crash but is in a serious condition in hospital. More bodies are expected, claim news reports. The plane had been performing at a nearby air show.

Churchyard with Phil and a solo urban ride to mum's...

Phil and Matt at the Churchyard, Saturday 15th August

Despite a pretty awful week in terms of the weather, the weekend proved to be perfect for cycling with sunshine and blue skies from the offset and no sign of any rain. Sunday, on a drive to the south coast, I saw a few clouds gathering north of the downs, but once on the beach it was sunshine all the way.

Andy was absent on both Saturday and Sunday and Phil decided not to go on Sunday, but we ventured out together Saturday morning and headed for the Tatsfield Churchyard the long way. I haven't seen Phil for a while so we had a lot to chat about and decided that the long route via Hesiers Hill and Beddlestead Lane would be best, even if there were a number of Lycra monkeys suddenly appearing right behind us and on one or two occasions causing me to jump, as in they made themselves known at the very last minute.

The playing fields near Purley, Sunday 16th August

The churchyard, as always, was very peaceful and we both enjoyed sipping tea in the early morning sunshine, even if there were no BelVita biscuits courtesy of Andy.

On Sunday I decided to embark upon an urban ride to mum's and set off some time after 7am following the usual urban route past the playing fields and through the industrial estate towards Wallington and then Carshalton where tea and fruit cake awaited me. I rode back through Carshalton High Street and on towards Wallington, but turned left into Demense Road and then retraced my outward route towards The Chase and then through the industrial estate towards the junction by the Aerodrome Hotel and the rather ugly-looking Hilton National, past the playing fields and home.

Empty streets – Sunday morning on the A23 near Purley

I must point out that while at mum's I enjoyed some of her excellent fruit cake, a welcomed treat after riding the bike through the mean suburban streets of Croydon, Wallington and Carshalton and washed down by a couple of mugs of tea. Perfect.

Tea and cake round at mum's, Sunday 16th August

Later in Littlehampton I stumbled across Coastal Cycles, a decent bike shop selling Dutch style bikes from Batavus and Raleigh and an amazing-looking Koga tourer (for £1,800). Coastal Cycles stocks electric bikes, road bikes, Dutch bikes, hybrids, folding bike, trikes, BMXs and scooters and runs a hire service too. Based at 46a Pier Road, Littlehampton, BN17 5LW there is also a website, which is accessible by simply clicking here.

The Henty Wingman – a multi-purpose, all-weather bag cyclists have been waiting for

The Henty Wingman

Have you ever thought it was about time you did something healthy such as cycling to work instead of taking the bus or the train? Me too, but you know what? It's never that easy – nothing is. Cycling to work is a terrible hassle, mainly because it involves an element of planning. It's not just a case of strolling into the garage, jumping on the bike and riding away. No, there's plenty of 'stuff' that needs attending to first, like where are you going to take a shower when you reach the office? If there's no shower then you need to locate the local leisure centre and if it's up the road from the office, ride there first and freshen up.

All well and good, but there's more. After a shower you don't want to be putting on your sweaty cycling gear again as that would defeat the object of visiting the leisure centre. It's all very well saying that if you were organised you might have taken some work clothes to the office along with a shirt, a pair of socks and a pair of shoes – but for me that's one of the reasons why I don't cycle to work. It's just too much grief – until now!

The Henty Wingman – ready to ride!

There's a new piece of kit on the market that takes the hassle factor out of cycling to work. It can't fix punctures or bad weather, but it makes life easier for people like me who feel that urge to ride to work but often think twice when the reality of carting a shed load of clothes to the office kicks in. And who wants to arrive at the office in their cycling clobber for all and sundry to gawp at prior to changing into that suit? There's nothing worst than skulking off to the bathroom, suit on a clothes hanger and saying, "I'll be back in a minute, just going to change out of this cycling gear...".

Cue the Henty Wingman. It might sound like the nickname of a Second World War fighter pilot, but it offers a solution for all those people who, like me, want to get on their bike but simply can't face the palaver involved in a ride to the office.

The Wingman is a combined suit carrier and backpack that conveniently rolls up once loaded and can be slung over your shoulder in preparation for a ride. There are two elements to it; first, the suit carrier, which is self-explanatory; and second a small, zipper bag that extends the width of the suit carrier and is big enough to carry a towel, shoes, your sandwiches and any washing gear you might require (shower gel, soap, a razor and so on).

The zipper bag connects to the suit carrier by means of sturdy plastic clips and then the suit carrier is simply rolled up and joined together by a couple of larger and equally sturdy clips forming a cylindrically-shaped backpack. Sling the whole lot over your shoulder and off you go to work carrying everything you're going to need when you get there.

Once on the bike the Wingman feels perfectly fine, it's exactly the same as a conventional cycling backpack except that it can carry your clothes, your washing gear, a shirt, a pair of shoes... it's brilliant!

The Wingman, says Henty, the Australian company behind the product, was designed by a couple of guys who cycle to work regularly but were frustrated by the lack of products available for transporting business wear. They put their thinking caps on and came up with the Wingman.

Henty describes the Wingman as 'a multi-purpose bag that enables easy and versatile all weather commuting and travel for active business men and women'. According to the company, "If you walk, cycle or fly to work or exercise before, during or after work, the Wingman is your new best friend."

If you would like to know more about the Wingman, log on to http://www.henty.cc

• The people behind the Henty Wingman have kindly sent NoVisibleLycra a Wingman multi-purpose bag to test and it's packed and ready to use. I'm planning to ride to work and have a two-piece suit plus a shirt in addition to a towel, shower gel and a pair of shoes already packed. A report on my ride will follow shortly.

1. My Wingman with suit and shirt packed and the inner bag containing
shoes, a towel and some shower gel.

2. Packed and ready to roll into backpack mode...

3. Rolled up and ready to ride

• A word on putting the bag together, it's all very straightforward. In essence, as outlined above, the inner bag simply clips to the suit carrier and is then rolled up and clipped together. There's nothing complicated about this product at all.

Henty Wingman – if you're riding to work, this is the product to have

Bus stop and churchyard – and brilliant weather on both days

St. Mary's Tatsfield, Sunday morning

We didn't cycle far this weekend, but the weather was good on both days as we rode first to the bus stop (on Saturday) and then to the churchyard (in double quick time) on Sunday. It took us about 25 minutes to reach the churchyard from Warlingham Green, which was pretty good going. Andy had said something like 'heads down until the churchyard?' and that was it; we kept up a fairly good pace all the way and stuck close together.

The churchyard was very peaceful, apart from the hiss of the motorway about a mile away. The skies were blue, it was warm – a much better day than I had expected – and we sat on our bench and chilled, munching BelVita biscuits, sipping tea and talking about nothing in particular. There was nobody else about, we didn't even see the usual church people who turn up and potter about.

When it was time to leave the churchyard, I knew I had to get a decent shot for the blog, but I didn't want the usual stuff so I wandered over to the church itself and took the images that accompany this post.

The ride home was very pleasant. It was warm, the skies were blue and the sun was out. We rode up Clarks Lane, travelling west towards Botley Hill and then headed north on the 269 towards Warlingham. Andy branched off halfway and said he wouldn't be riding next Saturday (cue an urban ride to mum's perhaps). He'd see me again on Sunday. We'd talked about the lake, we'd talked about a later ride and a beer in the pub – and one day we'd do it, but probably not next week.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before on this blog, but I've been reading Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. It's a good book, but it's a big one (1,168 pages to be precise) and it's taken me around eight months to finish it, but I can now report (as I shrug a sigh of relief!) that it's finished and I'm now enjoying Long Way Down by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman, which is absolutely brilliant. Mind you, I enjoyed the challenge presented by Rand's masterpiece and will be looking for similar literary obstacle courses over the next few weeks.

Looking south to Oxted from the Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday morning

When I reached home after the ride I put the bike in the garage and then set about mowing the front and back lawns. After that it was time for an excellent home-made tomato and basil soup and then a drive to Shere, a cake and a cup of tea and then a wonderful walk in the surrounding countryside. I sat in the garden on my return, the lawn a velvety texture and the skies still blue, but wasps disturbed the peace as I sat and read Long Way Down, accompanied by a bottle-conditioned ale. Wonderful. It's now just gone 7pm and the skies are still blue and the temperature warm. Countryfile is starting and it's time for dinner – salmon. After dinner I might sit outside again as I think the wasps have gone.

Until next week, enjoy your lives everybody.

Solo ride to the Tatsfield bus stop

With Andy taking part in Ride London – he cycled a total of 122 miles – I was left to my own devices on Sunday and was considering an early morning ride to mum's. But then I thought the Tatsfield bus stop would be a better bet, although I didn't take any tea with me, which always makes it a little depressing.

The Tatsfield bus stop

The ride was fine – and so was the weather, although not as good as Saturday when I didn't go out, although I did drive over to mum's, hence my reason for not riding there on Sunday morning.

Andy's Ride London route

Dawes Galaxy turned up and got off his bike. We sat and discussed nothing in particular and then, after saying our goodbyes, I took the shot accompanying this post and then headed for home.

Another ride to the bus stop...to discuss freedom

I wasn't expecting to ride anywhere today as rain had been predicted by the weathermen, but this morning it was fine, albeit a little cloudy. I was running a late, but not by much, and when I reached the green, Andy and I decided that another ride to the Tatsfield bus stop was all that was open to us.

There was nothing untoward about the outward journey other than a VW Golf driving on the wrong side of the road in order to overtake the car in front of it and basically heading straight for Andy and me. It was one of those moments when we found ourselves lost for words and lost for anything other than to look upon the situation with an open mouths, expressing nothing but incredulity.

"Was he deliberately aiming for us?" I asked Andy, who was equally confused.
"I don't think so, he was overtaking," he replied,  but there was an element of both shock and surprise at the situation that had briefly unfolded. Still, these things are sent to try us, we thought, as we ploughed on along the 269, past Botley Hill and down towards the bus stop.

My bike resting against a tree adjacent to Sanderstead pond.

When we reached our destination the conversation focused on freedom. We all regard, say, motorcycling and pushbike riding as offering the rider a sense of freedom and, yes, that's true; being on the open road, the wind in our hair, the freedom to stop and start whenever we wanted to and so forth, offers a great, liberated feeling that I'm sure other activities also offer. Sailing, perhaps, would be another freedom-inducing pastime, but then so is walking through the countryside, a stroll on an deserted beach, anything that takes the participant away from the stresses and strains of everyday life and offers a sense of escape from the drudgery of paying bills and going to work.

Is there such a thing as freedom of speech, freedom of expression or, indeed, freedom in general? It was at this point that we discussed those who, at face value, show the rest of us that there is such a thing as real freedom and that all you need to do is get out there. Think Mike Carter in his books Uneasy Rider and One Man and His Bike or Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman in their books and films entitled Long Way Round and Long Way Down – they, with the help of the media, set out to prove that true freedom is out there (but only if you have money to burn and little in the way of responsibilities). Or, perhaps, you have responsibilities, but you also have enough money – or the wherewithal to make money, lots of money, from your freedom-inducing activities. Cue book deals and film rights.

Now, I won't moan too much about the way the media tries to fool everybody into thinking that it's possible to simply up sticks and cycle around the country or, indeed, the world, with your dog on a specially-built plinth over the rear wheel of your bicycle; OR the way it makes you think that it's possible to be cycling to work one fine morning and then deciding, on a whim, to simply ride on past the office and embark upon a six-month journey of discovery cycling around the coast of Great Britain. I've said enough about this in past posts.

Sanderstead pond in the rain, Sunday 26 July 2015

So Andy and I are sitting at the Tatsfield bus stop looking out towards the road and watching the odd Lycra monkey ride by and I suddenly realise how we're all basically prisoners, slaves, to the society that supports us and that the media's role in all this is to hoodwink us all into thinking that we are perfectly free to do whatever we want; this is, after all, a 'free' country. Or is it?

"What would happen if you were cycling to the office and just kept pedalling past?" Yes, I know, I've mentioned this quote before; it's from the back cover of Mike Carter's excellent book One Man and His Bike – and we all know that Mike didn't 'just keep pedalling past' – otherwise he'd have been sacked. He had arranged everything prior to leaving, he was earning money through writing a column for The Guardian and, well, he simply didn't exist in the same world he might have existed in IF he had simply decided en route to the office, "Oh, sod this for a game of soldiers, I'm going to cycle around the coast of Great Britain instead."

I started to think about what would really happen. Say, for example, that this morning I'd decided, on reaching the Tatsfield bus stop, that I was simply going to ride further, not go home, not go to the office tomorrow, but continue cycling east towards the coast – I don't know, Margate, Sandwich, Deal, Broadstairs, wherever I happened to end up.

Let's take it step-by-step: first the immediate practicalities and the rows and upset that would be caused when I phoned home and announced that I wouldn't be coming home for, well, a few months. "What do you mean? You've got work tomorrow! You'll get the sack! And what are you going to do for money?"

That, of course, would be the big sticking point. What WOULD I do for money? I'm already up to my eyeballs in debt, I have no disposable income whatsoever – even if I was solvent – and I'm leaving a family back home with possibly just one more pay cheque to last them the month. Except it won't last them because the moment we're paid, we're in debt and living off an overdraft that is costing us dearly in terms of interest.

Let's assume, just for the hell of it that I did think ahead – just a little bit. I bought a tent from Halfords to enable me to camp in the woods or the fields or at camp sites. Even though there's no money in the bank, I'd have a tent and that's it. Sadly, however, 'wild camping' is against the law in England so I'd either have to break the law (I would definitely break the law) or pay for campsites with money I simply don't have.

Then there's the matter of sustenance: food and drink. I reckon I could survive on an M&S sandwich (or equivalent) for lunch with, perhaps, an apple or a banana, but that's not going to be cheap – let's say a fiver. Then there's dinner. I'll need at least one hot meal a day and it won't come cheap and when there's no money, it'll have to be cheap, which means nutritionally suspect. I won't have any means of cooking myself (unless I buy a camping stove, which might prove cheaper in the long run as I can cook fresh food, which would be cheaper than eating out even in the most down at heel 'caff') but it's going to mean additional weight and who said I had the money to buy a stove? If I ate out every night (not really an option) I'd have to limit myself to a tenner per meal, meaning my daily outgoings of roughly £15 would make my monthly bill just under £500. But this figure doesn't take into account potential problems with the bike. Alright, punctures are pretty cheap to fix, thanks to Leeches, but anything else (gears, brakes, wheels) would cost money that I don't have and this would leave me scuppered early on as I couldn't afford to fix the bike, especially once the money really dries up and the phrase 'refer to bank' stares back at me from a cash machine.

So I'd need to earn money on my way around the country, which means there would be long periods of standing still, living rough in a tent and working, say, in a pub. I might, perhaps, be holed up working somewhere for a month and then a situation might exist where I'm riding one month and working the next – one month on, one month off. And who's to say what would be happening on other fronts? My family would certainly be in touch to ask where I am, when I'm returning home and how the hell are they going to survive without me there earning money? My office would be in touch either to sack me or to ask me if I was considering returning to work any time soon. All of this aggravation would be pre-occupying me to say the least, making my cycling a little tense, a little uneasy. In short, I really would be an Uneasy Rider.

And who's to say the police wouldn't be involved? Back home bills would be mounting up, the power would be cut off and let's not forget my mobile phone account. Soon I would be completely off the radar and unreachable by anybody other than those who might have an idea where I'd be heading, but there would be nobody (apart from Andy) who would hold that knowledge as the whole 'adventure' was based on a whim. Remember the line? "What would happen if you were cycling to the office [or in my case the Tatsfield bus stop] and just kept on pedalling past?"

I couldn't even go on benefits because the Government has tightened things up and while there are people out there who know how to work the system, I'm not one of them. The best I could do to survive (apart from finding somebody who knew how to work the system) would be the aforementioned 'one month on, one month off' scenario of casual labour one month followed by a month on the road, living rough in a tent, doing a spot of 'wild camping', surviving on pre-packaged sandwiches during the day and one hot evening meal using the money I've made in the pub, or cooking something on a camping stove – and what's the guarantee I'll find work at the end of my month of cycling – unless I strike some kind of deal with a national pub chain?

In short, we realised, as we finished our tea and BelVita biscuits, that there was no such thing as true freedom, that all of us (let's make that 'most of us') are shackled to something – 'responsibilities' – and limited by a lack of funds that need to be replenished in order to survive. Most of us work to live, some of us live to work, but either way, if you just walk out of the rat race you won't last for long as the practicalities of life will gate crash your party, and if you wanted to ride around the coast of Great Britain or jump on a powerful motorcycle and ride around the world in any direction, you can't simply 'pedal past the office' and keep on going... unless you have the funds and the wherewithal to simply jump off the carousel of life in full knowledge that nothing much will have changed when you eventually return to the fold.

It started to rain and it was time to mount the bikes and ride home. We packed up our stuff, jumped on our steeds and, as the rain intensified, we accepted the sad fact that nobody was truly free. In short, the vast majority of us are prisoners, confined by a lack of wealth and a sense of responsibility for others. So much for Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady, so much for Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, so much for road movies, so much for escapism... it all comes at a price that many of us simply can't afford.

On a lighter note, the photographs accompanying this post are of Sanderstead Pond. I'd taken a shot at the Tatsfield bus stop just prior to departure, but it was over-exposed thanks to somebody back home changing the camera's settings without me knowing. By the time I reached Sanderstead the heavens had opened, but I braved the elements to take these shots, which are not over-exposed... unlike yours truly who was well and truly over-exposed to the rain, which continued for the most of the day and only brightened up around 4pm when the sun made an impromptu appearance.

To the Tatsfield bus stop

It had rained heavily overnight and there were still a few drops landing in the birdbath at 0600hrs when I peered out to see what was happening with the weather. I'd been off work all week and the weather had been fairly good, bar yesterday when it rained all day.

This morning, as I sipped from my mug of tea, the trees swayed in the breeze, the bushes rustled and the sky was grey – an abort seemed likely, but there were no text messages from Andy so I figured that he, like me, was feeling optimistic. In addition to my cup of tea I had cut off a length from a baguette that had been standing to attention behind the bread bin.

A brief period of messing around on the computer followed and then, after making up a flask of hot water, putting four Twining's English Breakfast teabags in my heavy duty Integrated Mill Systems blue mug and pouring just enough fresh milk for Andy and I to enjoy two cups of tea at our destination, I headed out to the garage to blow up the front tyre, which was suffering from a very slow puncture. After a week the tyre was almost completely flat, but 50 pumps later it was as hard as rock and I was ready for the ride.

Roadside puddles provided evidence – not that any was needed – of last night's downpour, although I later observed, as we rode south on the 269, that the puddles had all but evaporated and were nowhere near as big as I've seen them on past rides. As I made my way towards Warlingham Green the weather improved considerably and blue skies appeared behind rapidly diminishing grey clouds.

Once we were underway, en route to the Tatsfield bus stop – our chosen destination – I was glad that we hadn't aborted the ride.

There were a few Lycra monkeys here and there, but no sign of Dawes Galaxy. I told Andy that I'd bought a hardback copy of Ewan McGregor's and Charley Boorman's Long Way Down. What a great book, even if I've only reached page 39. Phil has the DVD and I'm rather hoping he'll let me borrow it.

At the bus stop we made tea and enjoyed Andy's chocolate BelVita biscuits while watching somebody riding a Royal Enfield motorcycle back and forth along Tatsfield's Approach Road. "Not my style," said Andy – he's a sports bike fanatic (a kind of motorised Lycra monkey). He used to be a courier but admitted today that his motorcyling days were over. As for me, well, I had my mid-life crisis back in my mid-30s (when I yearned for a Harley Davidson Sportster but never had the money to buy one, although, in all honesty, motorcycling is not for me and I strongly believe that had I bought one, I'd either be dead by now or seriously injured, so it's just as well that I had no money. I still don't have any money.

April 2008, pre-blog pic near Botley Hill

While at the bus stop we chatted about pre-blog days and how we both wished we'd thought about the blog earlier as a lot of the early pre-blog rides were the pioneering ones. But there's no point crying over spilt milk. This afternoon I went into the photographic archive on a remote hard drive in search of pre-blog images and then remembered that in pre-blog days why would we have bothered taking photographs? Well, we did take the odd shot, but the only ones I can find that are 100% pre-blog images are those of Andy and I in the snow back in April 2008 – and they've been published here before. Still, as we didn't take a shot this morning, I'm going to bore you all with an image of yours truly, close to Botley Hill, in the snow, back in April 2008 (see pic left).

By 0830hrs we were ready for the return ride. Andy rode with me to Warlingham Green where we said our goodbyes and vowed to be back on the green at 0730hrs tomorrow, although I've been reliably informed that the weather is going to be bad. My iphone says cloud and rain – and so does the mother-in-law, but we'll see; I'm forever optimistic.