The Tea Drinker

Yours truly drinking tea at the Tatsfield Village bus stop on Sunday morning.

Photo taken by Andy Smith.

Vintage MG spotted in supermarket car park

Off to Waitrose to buy some razor blades yesterday and look what I found! A vintage MG. Mind you, I say it's 'vintage', check out that automatic gearbox.

Pix of our pal Dave on his new Harley-Davidson

"I don't want it unless there's extra pepperoni!" I shouted to the pizza delivery man – until I realised it was David on his new Harley.

A lairy helmet to match a lairy bike – and look at that crash helmet too!

It's big, a bit gay in terms of the colour scheme, but it's quite nice – and very noisy. In a nutshell, now that David's legally allowed to ride a bike that isn't de-tuned, he's gone and bought another one. Here, for your viewing pleasure, are a few shots, taken by yours truly.

That SatNav on the handlebars takes away a little cred, David.

That's a bit more restful on the eyes, don't you think?

Early start at the Green

7am, Woodmansterne Green and I was there first – and that's a first!

I didn't go cycling yesterday as Andy wasn't going and I didn't get a call from Jon. I slobbed about at home, getting a little irate about my current state of employment – on the dole if I don't get a job by the end of next month. To be honest, it's all very stressful. It's that nagging thought that, after my next pay cheque, nothing. I won't say too much about it here, for obvious reasons, but suffice it to say that there's a lot of tension in the house and I'm not sleeping that well either.

A host of golden daffodils in Tatsfield Village.

Today, the clocks went forward, meaning I lost an hour's sleep on top of losing sleep anyway. Andy wanted to meet at 7am instead of 7.30am, but I was awake at 0430hrs (meaning it was really 0530hrs). I jumped out of bed at 0554, switched off the alarm on the mobile and headed downstairs to make some tea and a bread and marmalade sandwich. Call me Paddington, I don't care.

This was taken last week in all that fog, but it's a
metaphor, perhaps, for my disappearing career

Half an hour later and I was out of the house, heading towards the green. I got there before Andy, which was a first (or rather, it's rare). We debated where to go and decided upon (ahem) Tatsfield Village. Well, why not? It's a good enough distance so we get the much-needed exercise and it's not as boring as Woodmansterne Green – or rather, it's not as boring as the ride to Woodmansterne Green.

The daffodils were out on the village green at Tatsfield and we sat and drank our tea, as we always do. Next week, if we can motivate ourselves, we're planning a trip to Merstham and a visit to the Hunger's End café, which means, for me, scrambled egg on toast and a mug of tea.

Tatsfield Bus Stop – it's just the way things are at the moment

Me arriving at Warlingham Green.

Not much in the way of spare cash at the moment, so any thoughts about taking the bike down to the garage to get it fixed are out of the question. There's two things wrong: one, the rear brake has gone completely; and two, the bike won't change down at the front, meaning that hills that are normally fine now mean getting off and walking. As a result, I'm constantly suggesting going to Tatsfield as the hills are okay with just the larger front crank and there's no dodgy downhill stuff that could see me flying headfirst through a hedge – or the radiator of an oncoming car.

At the Tatsfield bus stop.

So, after yesterday's trip to Woodmansterne to meet Jon, who arrived in his car, it's time for a proper ride but only to the Tatsfield bus stop. To be fair, I did consider Westerham as we sped down Clarks Lane on our approach to the bus stop, but decided against it due to time considerations mainly as I can climb out of Westerham with just the front crank and the downhill into town, while touch and go, is fine as I know that stretch of road like the back of my hand. Still, we stopped at the bus stop, chewed the fat, drank tea, munched cereal bars and returned home.

Andy took these photographs.

Andy locked out of his garage and Jon turns up – in his car!

For whatever reason, I awoke this morning at 0400hrs and eventually decided to get out of bed, make a cup of tea and some bread and marmalade and check out the emails and stuff. No, I didn't look at anything dodgy, just the emails and work-related stuff and then it was time to head off to Warlingham Green.

Woodmansterne Green taken in November 2009 I think.

 I dropped Andy a text explaining how I was running about five minutes late and then, as I pedalled along Church Way there was a message from Andy. Ding! "You're on your own, I can't get into my garage." Or words to that effect. I dabbled with the idea a. of going home. b of going alone to Botley Hill or the Tatsfield Bus Stop or c. calling Jon and heading over to Woodmansterne Green – for the first time this year. I opted for the latter and agreed to meet Jon around 8am.

Andy: locked out of his garage, he aborted.

Jon: ignore that bike, today he drove to Woodmansterne!

All the way there I took it easy and when I reached the Green and sat down on Jean Merrington's memorial bench, I awaited Jon's arrival. Out came the tea and, as I sat there, I noticed Jon over at the newsagent's  clasping the Saturday edition of the Times. Where, I wondered, was his bike? He'd been trying to reach me on my mobile, unaware that it had run out of power (so I couldn't take any photographs as I didn't have the camera with me).

He'd come by car! What a cheek! First Andy can't get into his garage and then Jon turns up on four wheels. His excuse? He had a slow puncture – that had gone flat – and his pump had broken.

I didn't matter. We strolled around chatting about this and that and then I cycled home while he drove. Still, I got the exercise, although my bike is need of repair: no rear brake, a rusty chain, the gears are buggered, so all-in-all it's a bit dangerous, but I can handle it. Of course, when I reached West Hill I walked up, miles to too steep at the Sanderstead Road end to climb with wonky gears.

Home at 0945, I mowed the lawn, ate lunch in the garden under an umbrella – it was positively balmy, to coin an Andy Smith phrase, drank a bottle of Alhambra, a Spanish beer, and then kicked a football around, vacuumed out the inside of the car and went to see mum and dad.

Dad's still got his awful moustache. I might have mentioned it before: it's green, or some kind of funny colour. As I said to Jon this morning, it looks like an old woman's minge. Horrible! Dad's not on-line, so he won't read this, otherwise I'd say, "Dad! Shave it off!"

Andy and I at the Tatsfield Village bus stop...

Yours truly (left) with Andy at the Tatsfield Village bus stop, Sunday 13 March 2011.

We both arsed around trying to take this self-portrait at the Tatsfield Village bus stop, but eventually Andy captured the shot perfectly on his complicated Nikon digital camera.

Tatsfield village

A field halfway along the B269 and yards from where Andy and I parted company.

Sunday 13 March 2011: Having watched Top Gear recently and got a little excited about (ahem) the Skoda Yeti, I was amazed not only to see one – in Tatsfield – but to discover that it wasn't exactly of Chelsea Tractor proportions. Andy and I were sitting at the village bus stop gassing about something or other and there it was and we both agreed that we'd like one – not that either of us have the money, but that's another issue.

Andy on the B269 prior to parting company.

So, Tatsfield Village. We're here because it's a good destination, not too boring, a fairly good distance away and there's a covered bus stop to shelter from the weather. Mind you, it is fast becoming our default destination, but that's because of the state of my bike – gears and rear brake are buggered – and the run to the village is not big on steep hills. It's still a good 16-mile round trip.

It was hard to believe I was only 30 minutes or so away from civilisation

Compared with Saturday, Sunday's weather was not good. Later in the day (around 3pm) it rained and I took shelter in a Costa Coffee shop, watching the rain dribble from the awning, but on the ride it was damp and misty. The word 'misty' is an understatement; up on Botley Hill it was very thick fog – a real pea soup as they say – and yes, you've guessed it, I had no lights.

We managed to avoid a soaking, although I picked up a wet arse, courtesy of no mudguards, but that was the height of any problems we encountered.

Andy's found a new way home along a dirt track half way along the B269 on the return trip, so we parted company in fog and vowed to meet again next week. I stopped and took a few photographs and they illustrate this post.

Helen Pidd's brilliant article on the Velorbis Victoria Balloon

I know there are not many left-leaning Guardian readers amongst those who glance at my blog, so I'll have to state now that I am probably the only one. Every Saturday I buy and enjoy reading the Guardian for so many reasons, some of which I've already discussed in a previous post. Something I probably didn't mention the last time I brought up my favourite broadsheet, was a regular feature in The Guide, a small A5 magazine devoted to what's on the television.

In the Guide, in addition to finding out what movies are being screened during the week on television and at the cinema – and, up until recently, a brilliant column by the great Charlie Brooker – is something entitled Michael Holden's All Ears. It is, arguably, one of the funniest columns in journalism at the moment and if you want an example, click here to check out this Saturday's edition, it's very, very funny. Alright, I know there's nothing worse than having other people's sense of humour forced upon you (and I'm not saying you'll laugh as much as I always do) but give it go, it's great.

Something else that makes the Guardian on a Saturday praiseworthy in the extreme – apart from the property column, Snooping About, in the magazine, and the celebrity Q&A (this week it's Sarah Brown, Gordon's other half) is that, in addition to car reviews, also in the magazine, there's occasionally reviews of bicycles.

This week, Helen Pidd, has penned a review of the Velorbis Victoria Balloon. First, what a great name for a bicycle. It sounds like something out of Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines.

The Velorbis Victoria Balloon – my type of bike.

Anyway, Pidd lives in Berlin – a great city – and there are a lot of cobbled streets there which, she points out, are not good for cyclists. So, rather than ship over her 'skinny-tyred road bike', she decided to buy the Velorbis Victoria Balloon, a bike from Holland. With a ladies frame and high, chromium handle bars, this is what you could call a 'proper bike', the sort of thing that, by rights, should have a basket. I'm sure there must be a men's version.

Here's the bloke's version! Look at those tyres!

Pidd likes the bike because the tyres are 'as fat as three bratwursts' and won't get stuck in the tramlines of the city and, no doubt, make easy work of the cobbled streets. The problem is the price – £695! Mind you, I can talk. I bought a bike for £684 a few years ago and it too has huge, bulbous tyres that, like Pidd's new bike, would make easy work of cobbled streets. In fact, I'd love to ship my bike over to Berlin just to ride the cobbles on it. One day, perhaps.

And here's Helen Pidd! If you Google her, there's loads of stuff.

Pidd employed similar reasoning behind her purchase of the Velorbis Victoria Balloon as I did when I purchased my Kona Scrap. "There is no getting away from the fact that this is a big, heavy, expensive bike – £700 is a lot to spend on something too sluggish ever to transport you very far, very fast. But – and this is a big but – it's both beautiful and indestructible." My sentiments exactly about the Kona Scrap, a bike a friend of mine refers to as my Dewhurst bike. He means that it looks like a butcher's bike and he's right, it does, but I love it.

Tyres like bratwursts and begging to be abused – my £700 Kona Scrap.
Note the Spongy Wonder saddle, which I added.

Pidd's love for the Velorbis is infectious. "If you are forced to keep your poor bike out in the cold, this is the model that says, "It's OK, don't worry about me." Except that, knowing it cost me the best part of £700 would make me worry and produce countless sleepless nights – perhaps not so much in Berlin, but over here in Croydon I wouldn't fancy it's chances.

The Velorbis is hand-made from German steel and is coated with a special rust repellent, says Pidd, and I love the fact that she's detected 'a masochistic streak' in a bike that dares its reader to take it out in the snow (who would ever do that with a brand new bike?). I remember, when I was about 10 years old and the proud owner of a brand new Moulton Mini (yes, I know, they're naff, but it was my first ever bike and I loved it). There was no way that I was taking it outside in the rain for fear of getting it dirty.

The Velorbis sounds like my sort of bike, although it only has three gears (good old Sturmey Archer) and a 'coaster brake' that, says Pidd, 'kicks in when you pedal backwards'. Excellent stuff! The Velorbis dispenses with a conventional rear brake – giving it even more cred. There's a Brooks saddle too and, something else you see little of these days: a dynamo lighting system (now that would be useful for somebody like me who risks life and limb (and the threat of the law) by riding out without lights in the early morning darkness of the winter months.

Pidd clatters along the cobbles of Kreuzberg in 'a regal riding position' and claims that the bike is 'just the job'.

Bicycle: The Complete Guide to Everyday Cycling by Helen Pidd is now available. It is published by Penguin and costs £14.99 – or £11.99 if you buy it from the Guardian bookshop by clicking here. 

If you want to buy a Velorbis bicycle, click here!

To the Tatsfield bus stop on my own

Up and out relatively early, but no sign of Andy. This was odd, I thought, as I arrived at Warlingham Green, until I checked my iphone – Andy can't make it, leaving me on the Green thinking, 'well, at least I'm out in the open air'. I called Jon but he had a cold so I resolved to cycle initially to Botley Hill and then straight back, but ended up heading for the Tatsfield bus stop where I stopped and enjoyed a couple of mugs of tea.

The Tatsfield bus stop, March 12th 2011.

The weather was fine (it still is); blue skies and not cold at all – and no sign of rain whatsoever, so a pleasant ride. I chilled out for a bit at the bus stop and then headed for home along the B269, the usual route, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Andy's going tomorrow so hopefully the weather will hold.