No sign of Andy...and snow is on the agenda

... and I suspect a spot of jet lag. Or rather I hope so because I'm sitting here in front of the lap top at 0745hrs having sent him a couple of texts to ascertain whether or not he's riding today and there's been no reply. He could be at the green, waiting for me in the cold, although somehow I don't think he is; I think he's in bed. Not that it matters. Outside it looks very cold. Not wet but cold, and there's a dusting of ice here and there. My iphone says its 1 degree Centigrade and there's a snowflake sign, which doesn't bode well. It's definitely not nice out there and I'm assuming that Andy, who's been used to some fine weather over in Jamaica these past few days has simply looked at his alarm clock and gone back to bed.

UK weather courtesy of the Daily Mirror

The worst case scenario, of course, is that his iphone has packed up or is out of power and he's getting ever more peeved as the seconds tick by and I'm not there. At this moment he could be riding back home wishing he'd not got out of bed. Let's hope not.

There has, however, been a marked lack of cycling these past three weeks. Last week I was still feeling the remnants of a nasty cold; the weekend before I was suffering from the cold and with Andy out of the country there was little in the way of motivation, although I know now that I would have aborted. Today, therefore, is the first day that we could have gone riding, although I'll admit now that I wasn't really in the mood. That's the trouble with not going cycling, it sets the tone and I find I get used to not going out, not pulling on the balaclava to fight off the cold. In many ways I'm glad Andy hasn't replied because it means I can stay in the warm and not venture outside.

My iphone now says that it's minus 1 degree centigrade outside and that snow is definitely on the cards. It snowed briefly yesterday afternoon in Redhill so I wouldn't be at all surprised. Looking ahead to the rest of the day there's snow, rain and cloudy weather ahead, the sort of conditions when it's best not to hit the air but remain indoors drinking tea. Things will warm up a little tomorrow when it's supposed to be 4 degrees Centigrade and cloudy (reasonably good weather for a ride).

We know what it's like to ride in the snow. While at first it's a novelty, it's a real case of giggles to grimaces when our faces freeze up and then we get a puncture. Our hands are so cold it makes fixing it almost impossible. In fact I remember a time when Andy was so cold that he lost his rag and rather than fix a puncture he almost slung his bike (the old Peugeot) into a ditch. In the end he settled for walking home accompanied by his bike. I remember how I found it mildly amusing until I discovered that I had a puncture too. If I recall, we both walked home, listening to that annoying sound a deflated tyre makes.

It's 0804hrs and there's no reply from Andy. All is still in the house and outside it's pretty quiet too.

In the news it's far from quiet, but it's still pretty much the same old shit. Trump has been trumped by US lawmakers and can't proceed with his planned immigration ban, there's a big crisis here in the UK with our National Health Service, there's a crisis in housing, we have a weak pound, thanks to Brexit, and, of course, there's Brexit, which is still the topic of the day in British politics.

And getting back to reality, it is snowing now, just a fine, drizzly snow that's likely to turn to rain, but had we gone out (and I'm still assuming Andy didn't) then we would have been wet and cold and not happy. Things should improve tomorrow.

No cycling today, I couldn't face a soaking...

I can't even remember what the weather was like when I woke up yesterday morning. It was pretty much like it is today: cloudy, damp, puddles here and there and while I could have got up and gone out somewhere, probably an urban ride to mum's, I didn't, and I'm glad because it did rain, quite persistently at times, so I would definitely have got a soaking, something I'd like to avoid after last week's cold.

And talking of the cold, I still have it, hence not wanting to get wet. The cold has reached the best stage of all, that time when it becomes strongly evocative of the past for some reason. It's always the same. I'm feeling slightly stuffed up, but not ill, there's an occasional sneeze, but little cause to reach for the tissues and, not sure why, but I'm taken back somewhere, not sure where, but to a time gone by when, perhaps, I used to relax more, watch television and take things a little easier.

Burl Ives – fantastic!

Last week, at the height of the cold – streaming nose, a slight temperature, weariness – I spent the entire time indoors, watching episode after episode of Michael Portillo on a train on the Settle to Carlisle line followed by a western starring Gregory Peck and Charlton Heston, taking me further back to when I was a kid, sitting on the floor in front of the gas fire back home, a mini Bakewell tart and a cup of tea. Jean Symmons also starred. It was, of course, The Big Country and it seemed to go on all afternoon.

The week prior I'd had a sore throat. It only bothered me at night, but during the day seemingly disappeared and I was as ripe as rain, but then, last Saturday, the cold hit hard and I was out of action for the entire weekend. Today, Sunday, the weekend after, I'm still sniffing and I can't really taste what I eat (I hate that bit) so I'm going to use that as my reason for not riding; that and the fact that if I did get soaked I'd probably reinstate the cold and be ill for the whole of next week.

Outside it's still and cloudy, there has been rain, probably overnight, and it's highly likely to return. Yesterday I considered riding to Botley Hill or over to mum's, but when I looked outside at the birdbath all I could see was raindrops hitting the water. Today, right now, it's fairly dry, but I don't trust this sort of weather and would rather be fitter and happier next weekend, when Andy's back in the saddle.

So it's going to be another cosy weekend 'indoors' although I'm well enough to visit mum for some tea and cake later on, which is always nice. Between now and then, I'll chill out, watch Andrew Marr again, he's bound to be on, but having just switched the television on, Countryfile is still on and there's a rugged coastline with angry waves and a Radio One DJ talking about her Scottish upbringing, she's walking through an old salt house along the cliff edge, little villages with small harbours that, at one point, she said, were thriving. This is what I need, a bit of desolation, the sea and moody skies. I'm guessing that where she is is somewhere north of the border near Edinburgh. "I hope that I never take it for granted again," she said and I wished there was a whole programme of this person wandering around her old stomping ground.

There's a lot going on in the world at the moment and most of the issues are something to do with Donald Trump, the 45th President of the United States. Alright, I'm not going to go on about it, but his immigration ban, which caused uproar last week, has been ruled unconstitutional. Trump plans to appeal, but right now those people he wanted to ban, temporarily, from the USA, are back, or on their way, and Trump ain't happy about it. He's also pretty pissed off with the Prime Minister of Australia who struck a deal with Barack Obama, which involved sending some 60,000 refugees to the USA. Trump must be SO angry! Not only has his immigration ban been halted, much to the delight of thousands of anti-Trump protesters around the world, but he's also about to take delivery of 60,000 refugees. He must be fuming with anger. It must be frustrating for him seeing his election promises to those who voted him in turning to dust.

Trump supporters get their message across...

A walk would be good and I might go and take a look at the bike, make sure it's alright. I know it's nice and clean, the chain is oiled and hopefully the tyres pumped up so it should be fine for next week's ride, assuming we're not going to get rain or snow. Blizzard conditions have been discussed by the newspapers, but there's no sign of it, not down here in the south at any rate. A colleague at work was talking about bitter winds in Huddersfield last week, but whether they're heading this way is anybody's guess.

I need to blow my nose so I'll say goodbye.

Separated at Birth....

Is it just me, or has anybody else noticed the similarity between Homer Simpson and the rapper Jay-Z?

Homer Simpson

Jay-Z

For more Separated at Birth fun, click here! And here! 

Trump latest...

People power – Amazon and Google can't afford to ignore it.

• Big businesses are in a bit of a stew when it comes to Trump's latest pronouncement on immigration – his controversial immigration ban. They had to make the choice between standing with Trump, presumably with a view to currying favour with the USA's 45th president who, they might argue, could make business life very difficult for them; OR sticking with 'the people', those protesting all over the world about the ban. They've rightly chosen the latter, in the full knowledge, no doubt, that so-called 'people power' carries much more weight than a US president. Siding with what amounts to racism is very bad for business especially if your company has global reach, like Amazon and Google.

"God Save the Queen! Coz tourists are money!"

• With tension mounting globally over Trump's madcap ban, there is pressure on Theresa May, the British Prime Minister, to put a stop to Trump's planned state visit, but she's not going to and one could argue why should she? We've had China's head of state here a couple of years ago and that country has a far worse human rights record than the USA. And let's not forget Brexit and the growing desperation of the UK to sign a decent deal with Trump. I mean, we're all looking forward to eating hormone-injected beef and being at the mercy of American drug companies and their desire to be a part of our National Health Service, aren't we?

• Theresa May – or 'Theresa the Appeaser' as she was described in the House of Commons today, shouldn't be rushing to invite Donald Trump to the UK on a State Visit. Why the hurry? Well, it all smacks of desperation to me, but while there are many people who disagree with the planned visit, there are some who think it should go ahead. Some say that there are far worse leaders, including Robert Mugabe, who have been entertained by the Queen. To exclude Trump would be a big mistake, bearing in mind our 'special relationship' with the USA and, indeed, the fact that we're about the leave the EU and need the US as both a business partner and a continued ally.

"Ahh! Let him get on with it!"

• That said, there are many people who, quite rightly, say that Trump was democratically elected the 45th President of the USA and that we should let him get on with it. First, one of the key tenets of democracy is free speech and we have a perfect right to express our feelings about Trump's policies if we disagree with them. Equally, those who are adamant that Trump should be left alone to do his own thing would be advised to consider history and one Adolf Hitler. He was swept to victory and went on to exterminate six million jews during the Second World War. Discriminating against people based on race and/or religion, therefore, – which is basically what Trump is doing – is not to be ignored. Who knows where or what it might lead to...

• Glasgow, Cardiff, Birmingham, London and elsewhere in the UK were the scene of massive street protests against Donald Trump. 

The ramblings of a bunged up man...

The two great parallel stories of our time – Brexit and the election of Donald Trump as president of the USA – are continuing to frustrate and anger people and this is very odd. Odd in the sense that normally, when the Tories or Labour win an election or whether it's Democrat or Republican in the USA, people accept the result and get on with it. Similarly with the referendum one might have thought. The public was asked to make a decision, it made one and that's that, we all get on with it.

Donald Trump – his arm is long, his vengeance is total...

But no, not so. Ever since Brexit and then Trump's victory across the Atlantic there has been a dogged determination by those who lost to question the decisions made by 'the people'. In the UK the vote was fairly close, but nobody is prepared to accept the result and one wonders what might have happened had the referendum gone the other way. Would the people we now call Brexiteers be 'getting on with it' or would they be out protesting? Something tells me that because 'the establishment' effectively lost, they simply can't let it go, and similarly in the USA.

Now, admittedly, in the USA, the choice of Trump as president is a little concerning as here is a so-called 'populist' figure with no prior experience of holding political office in charge of the most powerful country in the world. Only days into his presidency, Mr Trump has lived up to his campaign promises about building a wall between the USA and Mexico and banning muslims from selected countries (Syria, Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Somalia and others I can't remember). These two 'executive orders', signed last week, have ruffled many feathers, but what I find odd is that the general vibe is that President Trump and Brexit are the wrong decisions and that the supposed moral high ground lies with those who voted Democrat and those who voted to remain in the European Union. Surely, this is wrong. Trump won, therefore, he's the rightful occupant in the White House and the Brexiteers won the day on this side of the pond. But no, nobody is prepared to accept the results. It seems that Trump supporters and Brexiteers are 'the bad guys'.

Mexico isn't amused...

The media, of course, is having a field day. Shouldn't Theresa May be condemning Trump's decision to ban muslims? Well, no, not really. Trump's decision on who he lets in to his country is Trump's decision and it's not really for us or anybody to comment unless, of course, it has a detrimental effect on UK citizens, which I'm sure it will have.

I've spent a lot of time in an armchair today watching the Sunday morning political programmes: Andrew Marr, Andrew Neil and, of course, the BBC News channel, not forgetting Breakfast and it goes without saying that all of these programmes have focused on Trump and Brexit. Tim Farron, the leader of the Liberal Democrats – who in my opinion looks remarkably like a young Ken Livingstone – is firmly in the anti-Brexit camp and wants a second referendum once the negotiations surrounding Article 50 are done and dusted. But there's talk about the EU and the Single Market as two distinct entities, although to be in latter you have to accept free movement of people, which was the Brexiteers' cornerstone argument behind leaving the EU. Immigration and 'taking back control' were the key issues whatever anybody says, and the issues are the same in the USA too, hence the current furore over Trump's latest executive order.

"Ter-raiser, I think I could get you a part in Toy Story 4..."

But one thing you have to say about Trump is that he delivers on his promises. He was banging on about the Muslims being banned and the Mexicans being shut out by a wall throughout his campaign for president and now he's in the White House he's doing what his voters want him to do. Most politicians, prior to election, say they're going to do this and that and then they don't follow through, but here's Trump, bucking that trend and actually doing what he said he'd do – building the wall and shutting out immigrants from selected countries. I'm not saying I agree, but at least he's consistent.

And when people moan about Trump and about Brexit – I moaned about Brexit, but I'm over it now – perhaps they should consider the fact that our 'establishment' politicians had a habit of simply not listening to the people they represented. The European Union was arrogant enough to assume that the Brits wouldn't vote to leave and, as a result, stuck fast to its open borders principle despite the fact that entire communities in the United Kingdom have changed beyond all recognition and people were clearly concerned about losing their cultural heritage. That whole notion of 'political correctness gone mad' played its role too. It was as if everything was being done to mollify the immigrant and bugger the indigenous people of the UK – that's how a lot of people saw it and that, ultimately, is what led to Brexit. Not being an American citizen I'm guessing that something similar happened there: people no longer had any faith in establishment politicians and big political dynasties like the Clintons who put the interests of others ahead of those of the American people.

And talking of 'political correctness gone mad', it's alive and well in case you were wondering. This morning on Breakfast they had a rabbi reviewing the morning newspapers. Nothing wrong with that, but one of the first stories she latched on to was that fact that the transgender community wants to do away with the word 'mother' or 'mothering' when it comes to children because of its association with the female and not the male. This story was something to do with the British Medical Association and even the presenters of the programme seemed to bristle at this rabbi's views. She started to go on about the word 'surname' and how it was too masculine and that we should all use the phrase 'family name' instead. It's stuff like this that angers the masses and has led to Brexit. For too many years now, the establishment has been getting away with it, but not any more, it seems. People have had enough and basically voted with their feet. They'd seen enough of Eddie Izzard in a pink beret on Question Time and Sir Bob in a boat on the Thames shouting the odds at Farage through a megaphone.

Brexit divided the UK and led to Donald Trump some say...

I can only assume that in the German elections later this year, Merkel will get her 'come uppance' and will be ousted for her decision to allow, unvetted, millions of refugees and asylum seekers from the Middle East into the country. Her fate might well have been sealed after the incidents in Cologne and elsewhere on New Year's Eve 2015 when, as the media reported, there appeared to be a 'mass groping' of German women by North African men. The Germans opened their doors and look what happened; and it's stuff like this that probably stiffened Trump supporters' resolve to get their man elected. It also bolstered policies like the Mexican wall, extreme vetting of certain immigrants and so on, which are proving to be bad news and will reinforce people's dislike of the man who is now leader of the free world.

But playing the hard man at home is one thing, getting bolshy with the Chinese and the Russians and the North Koreans might prove to be tricky, and there are many people who question Trump's stance on Russia and Putin. But then Trump appears to be intent on upsetting everybody: the American people, the CIA, the muslims, the Mexicans and the international community.

I think if I was in charge of one the countries whose citizens have been banned from the USA, I'd deport all American citizens with immediate effect, invoking, perhaps, 'tit-for-tat' politics. Trump is one of those people who incites the 'fight fire with fire' attitude. But Trump is on a loser if people fight back, although he's counting on them not putting up a fight; but if you're on the receiving end of Trump xenophobia and have nothing to lose, why not?

One thing is for certain, the next four years – possibly not that long, who knows? – will be full of 'comedy gold' moments that will fuel many a satirical panel show on television for weeks to come. Will Trump go the distance? Who knows? Will he serve a second term? Who knows? I didn't expect him to win this election, let alone have a view on his chances in the next one, so it's anybody's guess. My hope is that he'll make good, he'll turn people around, get everybody on side and yes, 'make America great again'. I'd like to hope that leaving the EU will be good for the UK, but somehow, on both the American and the British situation I think it's going to end badly.

Sore throat, runny nose...no cycling

Last week I went for a swim and it might have been the reason behind my current state of ill health. Of course, there's no real knowing the real source of my cold, it could have come from anywhere. My mum had a cold last weekend when I went to see her, there are people in the office with colds, so it could have come from anywhere and there's no real point in trying to guess why I'm sitting in here, in pink and white-striped pyjamas, writing this blogpost.

A ride to mum's had been on the cards...

I had been planning an urban ride to mum's today, but on the basis that I knew my sore throat would become a full-blown cold before the week was out (it hit yesterday evening) I looked out of the window at the puddle on next door's conservatory roof and sighed. It wasn't raining, but it had been hammering it down overnight. The skies were grey and there was very little wind, although my California Lilac tree, which still has all of its green leaves, perhaps it's an evergreen, I don't know, was the only thing swaying in whatever breeze was out there.

I'd awoken at 0600hrs out of habit, but I switched the radio off and jumped back into bed. It was gone eight when I jumped out and headed for the kitchen. One thing I hate about having a cold – apart from the streaming nose, the tissues and the smell of Olbas oil – is losing a sense of taste. There's nothing worse than relying upon texture, but there you have it, a cold is a cold and I'll eventually get over it, although sometimes they linger. I wonder where I'll be this time next week? Still bunged up? Still sniffing? Probably, but the streaming nose would have disappeared, it normally does, and I'll be on the mend.

Another iconic poster...

As always, there are things to discuss. Not Donald Trump, although this week he signed a few 'executive orders' to build the wall on the border with Mexico and initiate extreme vetting of people trying to get into the USA from countries like Syria, Iran, Iraq and so on. Needless to say, people aren't happy, but our Prime Minister, Theresa May, was the first international head of state to visit the old tyrant and they seemed to get on swimmingly, both reinforcing the so-called 'special relationship' and Trump was even spotted holding May's hand. That was on last night's 10 o'clock news and then I stayed up to watch Graham Norton who had the cast and director (Danny Boyle) from the new Trainspotting movie, rather pretentiously called T2: Trainspotting. Then I had a Lemsip. Oh yes, I almost forgot. One of the good things about having a cold is Lemsip. I remember back in 2008 when I had a cold and I sat at home drinking Lemsip after Lemsip – used 'as directed' I hasten to add – but I then sat down and wrote the first 6,000 words of my one and only novel, Suki & the Christmas Treasure Trove, which I finished a year later and published (online) in 2012. Happy days, but it didn't make me any money, although that wasn't the point.

Mr President...

But I digress. There are things to discuss. Cotton wool. Or cottonwool? I'm assuming it's 'wool' made out of cotton and, therefore, not wool at all, it's cotton. So why call it cottonwool? One of life's great mysteries I guess. Another thing that's bugging me is the latest food scare – acyrlamide. It bugs me because they've started talking about now, this week, when I remember writing about it in 2007 – 10 years ago! Just don't burn things, make sure your toast is golden brown, not charcoal black, try and avoid potato chips (crisps) and don't over-burn frozen chips. Simple.

It's now 0912hrs, I've just had a second cup of tea, my nose is streaming, I'm still wearing the pink-striped pyjamas and believe it or not the sun is shining. In short, perfect weather for a ride to mum's, but my bike is the garage, padlocked, and it won't be going anywhere until next weekend.

A cold ride to Tatsfield Village (the slow way)...

Another cold day. Arguably not as cold as yesterday, but cold nonetheless. I left the house at 0716hrs and reached the green at 0740hrs. Andy was there and he was sporting some complicated-looking, luminous gloves. Yesterday, Andy's hands had been adversely affected by the cold yesterday and he wanted to get some gloves that might solve the problem. After tweeting his local bike shop, Ross Cycles in Caterham, he ambled down there and was sold a pair of gloves with a kind of over-glove that freed up his index finger (presumably so he could still use the brakes); and they seemed to have solved Andy's problem with the cold weather. He said the ride from home to the green was much more bearable than on Saturday and later, as we rode purposefully along Beddlestead Lane, he sympathised with Phil's cold weather predicament, that of numbness and discomfort that ultimately means he doesn't ride when it's cold (and hence silly joke of cardboard box with Phil's name on it).

Snow as we approached Tatsfield Village...

Fortunately, it wasn't as cold as yesterday – but not far off – as we retraced our tyre tracks and followed once again the slow route to Tatsfield village via the challenging (at times) Beddlestead Lane. We both agreed that yesterday and today it was alright, mainly because we put our heads down and got on with it. The roads were just as icy as on Saturday so we exhibited caution as we progressed around the quiet country lanes, past St Leonard's church and on towards Hesier's Hill.

There was a burning, orange orb of a sun rising in the east and visible behind the bare trees and we considered trying to catch it on film, but lost it as we descended into the valley at the bottom of the hill. When we finally caught up with the sun it had lost its fieryness and was no longer worth capturing on film.

We haven't seen that many Lycra monkeys these past two days, certainly not on the outward ride. Today, we saw two on Beddlestead Lane, but no more, and it wasn't until we made our way home from the village that we started to see more of them, notably at the top of Beddlestead Lane.

The temperature had gone up considerably as we made our way towards Botley Hill and then home. For the first time I noticed that there was a hill going out of the village. I hadn't really thought about it before, but now I found myself remarking to Andy that the ride out of Tatsfield wasn't as smooth as the ride in, which was understandable considering the fact that from the Tatsfield Bus Stop on Approach Road it's virtually a freewheeling ride into the village. It should, therefore, go without saying that riding out of town would be an effort, but today was the first time I vocalised it.

At Botley Hill the sun was out and we pressed on past the pub and down towards Warlingham Sainsbury's. It was smooth going, although I exhibited caution as we reached the fast downhill stretch of the 269 as the roads were still fairly icy and I remembered my calamity back in October and Andy's recent fall along Beddlestead Lane.

Andy's off to Jamaica soon. Next week he won't be riding because he'll have suitcases to pack and this will mean a few 'urban rides' to mum's for tea and cake – or, better still, breakfast.

When we reached the green we said our goodbyes and soon I was gliding along the Limpsfield Road and through Sanderstead High Street, past the pond and into the churchyard prior to crossing the Addington Road and sailing nonchalantly down Church Way, over the speed bumps. Like yesterday I turned left on to Morley, right into Elmfield, left on to Southcote and then right into Ellenbridge. I reached home at roughly the same time and relaxed, temporarily, with a mug of tea and some baked beans on toast – part two of my breakfast, which started earlier this morning with a bowl of cold Weetabix, blueberries, raspberries and sliced banana.

Bitterly cold weather as we ride (the slow way) to Tatsfield Village...

The weather was bitterly cold, but I was fully prepared as there's nowt worse than the cold. I wore many layers and a balaclava and gloves. But even with such protection my feet were cold.

Andy was complaining. Cycling gear – and by that he meant cycling-specific clothing purchased in a bike shop – was absolutely useless, certainly for keeping out the cold. He had a kind of skull cap on under his crash helmet and it wasn't doing a great job of keeping his ears warm. Needless to say he paid through the nose for what amounted to a useless piece of cloth. My balaclava was not 'cycling-specific' and for that reason it was warm and highly efficient at its job of keeping me warm. Alright, I look a bit like a terrorist or a bank robber, but the police don't seem to mind as I'm never stopped, although I hear that these days they don't bother with burglary anymore. Hey ho.

The lesson to be learned, however, is this: don't bother with 'cycling-specific' clothing, it's too expensive for what it is and invariably it doesn't do the job. Buy stuff from stores like Millets, outdoor specialists, and you'll be guaranteed to keep warm in cold weather.

Andy's Kona on Approach Road, Tatsfield

We met at the green and rode the slow way to Tatsfield Village, being careful and riding slowly over icy roads. It was bitter out there, puddles were frozen, windscreens were frosted over, puddles were like creme brulée, it was icy, and ever since I had that crash on 1st October last year I've been very cautious. So I rode slowly down Hesier's Hill, slowly into Tatsfield Village and so on. Here and there we found plenty of snow banked up on the sides of the road, it made things seem even colder.

Once safely ensconced at the bus stop we broke out the tea and biscuits. A group of 'youths' passed by and asked what we had in the flask. "Tea," I said. He pointed to his large plastic bottle of Coke, which was half full (or half empty depending on your point of view) and told us he was drinking brandy and coke. It was obvious that he and his two pals, who also clasped plastic bottles of Coke, had been up all night and were making their way back from a party in a house nearby. We've all done it, I thought, remembering a variety of dodgy incidents from my youth, but these days I prefer to get a decent night's sleep and steer clear of the alcohol.

I can't be bothered with drinking anymore. This year, to date, I've only had three pints of bitter, one last Tuesday, one last Saturday and one the Saturday before in a pub near Waterloo station. We have two bottles of wine in the house and the chances of them ever being consumed are very low slim.

It was so cold in Tatsfield we had to sit on our gloves, but it still penetrated through our clothing and Andy said he had a couple of pairs of thick socks on PLUS thermal shoes, but his feet were still extremely cold. The tea warmed us a little up and the biscuits were comforting too, but soon our thoughts turned to the ride home. A jogger jogged past but she wasn't wearing gloves. "She must be freezing," Andy commented.

We caught up with her at the Tatsfield Bus Stop – which is still without its integral wooden bench and, as Andy has suggested in the past, it probably won't be repaired – ever. As we passed I thought the jogger was wearing gloves, but if she was they weren't exactly sturdy, woolly gloves like mine. We turned right towards Botley Hill, the runner headed left, down Clarks Lane and towards Westerham.

Riding back the slow way was mooted, but the thought of ascending Hesier's Hill in the cold put us off and we opted for the fast way along the 269. There were moments where we forgot the cold, mainly when the sun was shining, but it was one of those deceptive days of sunshine and extreme cold and persisted throughout the day.

We parted at the green and rode our separate ways. When I reached Sanderstead Pond it was frozen over and the ducks stood on the icy surface, seemingly at a loose end as they had nothing to do other than stand there of fly off somewhere. Well at least they could fly, I thought, as I passed by, heading towards Church Way and a cold downhill ride over speed bumps. I rode to the end of the road, turned left on to Morley, right onto Elmfield Way and left on to Southcote Road – a traditionally fast turn that I now ride very slowly, especially in icy conditions.

Pre-ride ramblings...

On day one of Donald Trump's presidency – inauguration day in other words – I found myself walking along dark streets marching purposefully on frosted pathways. Occasionally a gritter would drive past as I made my way home along Hayling Park Road. It was a cold and uneventful journey that lasted the best part of 30 minutes.

Now it's the morning of day two of Donald Trump's presidency – "it's going to be great, so great" – and I'm sitting downstairs at just gone 0600hrs (0630hrs to be precise, so not exactly 'just gone'). Outside there is frost on the ground, the car's windscreen is frozen and I've got the prospect of going out there, in the cold, jumping on a cold bicycle and heading for the green where, I'm hoping, an equally frost-bitten Andy will be waiting.

I'm assuming we'll ride to Tatsfield Village where we can be assured of somewhere decent to sit down, but who knows? There are so many places we could go to now that I have a bike with 27 gears (Godstone Green springs to mind) but in all honesty I couldn't face it. Sometimes it's bad enough, during the winter months, being wrenched out of bed in the dark while listening to Radio Four's Open Country.

Last week there was no cycling thanks to rain, and let's not forget that this time of year is characterised by poor weather, dark mornings and a likelihood of 'abort' texts. I checked my phone, which was lying on top of the ironing board, in a way hoping there might have been an 'abort', but no, so I immediately got dressed: tee-shirt, shirt, hoody, cycling trousers, socks and then slippers. Yes, slippers, not to go out with, but to protect against the possibility of walking into the kitchen and treading on cold water. There's nothing worse than cold water soaking into a sock, especially in this weather.

All is quiet and I'm tempted to switch on the radio or the television and see what else is happening on the Trump front, but there's nothing new. This morning's news bulletin simply reiterated his inauguration speech, which I have to say was pretty good, albeit a little dark. He spoke of rusting factories, of gangs and drug abuse and a failing education system and then launched into his bit about 'America first', which I can understand. He mentioned patriotism and was inclusive of all races – black, brown and white – and spoke of wiping out the scourge of Islamic terrorism. It'll be interesting to see how things pan out for Trump, the only president without experience of 'office' but with plenty of experience of offices.

America is divided and so is the UK. Some say that our exit from the EU spurred on Trump to victory, it probably did, and in a way we're both in the same boat and need to come back together. Unity. Now there's a word. Inwardly, I'm divided about Trump, mainly because there are so many people out there in the USA who know a darn sight more about their own political environment than I do. My vision of it comes largely from the media, but I know that a lot of people in America didn't like Hillary Clinton and wanted change in the same way that people over here were getting a bad deal in terms of jobs and general living standards; it was a similar situation in the USA.

As much as I liked Obama, it seems that he did kind of withdraw the USA from the world, he didn't go into Syria, but let the Russians in, for example, and while I don't think that Trump intends to start fighting other people's battles, I think, metaphorically speaking, he'll 'get out there' and do business.

But enough of Trump other than to wonder whether or not he'll serve a full term, or will a videotape surface from out of nowhere and prove his critics were right, not that it will have any effect. Despite numerous blunders – derogatory comments about women, disabled people and so on – he still got elected. It's going to be an interesting four years, that's for sure.

Why don't we, the people, go on strike?

Wandering around the supermarket recently, I discovered something not earth shattering but just fucking annoying. Razor blades cost more than the razors. Or rather, the razor blades for MY razor cost more than my razor, a Quattro. This is very annoying because it is forcing me to rethink once again my strategy on shaving. Don't get me wrong, I'm not considering a beard, or half a beard so I can offer the world two different profiles, but it might mean switching back to disposable razors, which are not very good when it comes to achieving the perfect shave.

To be fair to the disposable razor, I've been using them for some time and they're cheap, but I never get a smooth shave and my face always feels rough afterwards – you get what you pay for, never forget that. 

Whatever happened to those razors with the double-edged blades? You know the ones, they used to open up like a trap door in Thunderbirds and you simply placed the Wilkinson Sword or Gillette razor blade in the razor and then screwed it back up again. My dad always had a razor like that and a shaving brush and Ingram shaving 'lather', none of that foam rubbish you get these days. I think dad switched to disposables too.

It's weird having a situation where the razor blades are more expensive than the razor, like if bullets were more expensive than the gun. Perhaps they are, but it all comes down to something the media call 'shrinkflation' – basically the fact that these days we often get less for more. It's been publicised a lot recently, with crisp (potato chip) manufacturers putting less in a bag and then charging the same price or more. Famously, Toblerone increased the size of the gap between the triangular blocks of chocolate, something that doesn't bother me because I don't like Toblerone, although many people do; it's become a big 'international' brand, seen at most airports around the world. But what about Cadbury's Creme Eggs? No longer Cadbury, of course, they're now owned by an American company who, it is reported in the media, are using inferior quality chocolate but, again, still charging either the same money or more. I think Chocolate Orange is the same: either there's less segments or inferior quality chocolate or both.

Never mind 'no trains', how about no customers?

Everything is shrinking in size but costing us more and it's a result of pure greed. What always annoys me is that people simply accept it, nobody says they're not going to buy the products anymore, they just keep paying the money, pandering to the capitalists when all they have to do – en masse – is no longer buy the products the media tells us are shrinking. Just stop buying them!

I'm all for bringing these people to their knees. If we could all simply agree, millions of us, to simply stop shopping, if you like we could go on strike and, say, stop shopping for just one day, all of us, stop consuming, stop going to work by train or bus or anything that means paying a capitalist money – it would be fantastic. I wonder when they would start pleading with us, reducing their prices, putting back the value for money they've taken out?

How would we work it? Perhaps more than one day is needed and regularly. How about some kind of commercial fasting? Let's say the first weekend of every month, nobody uses public transport, nobody visits any shop or pays for any service. Imagine that! Every month for one year and why not step it up, perhaps two weekends. We don't drink in pubs, we don't eat in restaurants, we don't take trains, visit supermarkets, anywhere. In short we give them a dose of their own medicine. We announce the days like ASLEF and Southern Railway announce their strikes and then, after a year we review our success. I think this would have to be a long-term project, we'd need the time to recruit people to the cause, but gradually it might start to work and sooner or later, as I said earlier, they, the capitalists,  the clothes retailers, people like Philip Green, would get very worried. Prices would come down, quality would go up and we would be the winners.

There is, of course, a problem: gullibility. We're all too accepting of what is put in front of us; yes, we'll moan for a bit, but we all now accept inferior quality chocolate, less potato chips in a bag, fewer segments of Chocolate Orange and so forth. When the price of a Lotto ticket rose by 100% to £2 per line, I stopped doing the lottery. Who was I kidding? I wasn't going to be a millionaire, the chances were something like 14 million to one, but sadly there are desperate, gullible people willing to stump up the cash.

Gullibility is the issue and 'they' know it. If everybody stop being so gullible, the world would be a better place.