Scorcher of a Bank Holiday weekend...

Saturday we headed for Westerham, the fast way and when we got there we sat on the green, on tables provided by the pub, and drank tea. The ride down was fine, especially the final straight into the town as there was a lovely warm breeze. This, of course, was tee-shirt and shorts weather and it remained so all weekend. Even the ride back up the hill was fine, although my rear brake was playing up and I resolved to take the bike into the shop and get it fixed. It cost me £25 but it's working fine now. The guy in the shop told me that had I brought it in a week or two later I might have needed a new disc, but fortunately not. If you've read the last post, you'll know that I spent a lot of time gassing about the Westhill electric bike, the Ghost 2.0, but now, in the cold light of day, the need to buy one has died down considerably. I'd like one, especially for Beddlestead Lane and other annoying hills, but ultimately it's not necessary so I doubt I'll buy one, but they are great machines and I'd love to test drive one (and then change my mind!).

Crossing into Surrey from Kent on the hill out of Westerham

On Sunday, a trip to Petworth to see Dave, our old Harley buddy, was on the cards so Andy wasn't riding. I decided to do my suburban 35-minute ride, purely for the sake of fitness. As I write this I can honestly say that I've riden the bike for seven days straight and will continue this week. I've worked out a route around my local streets, thrown in a few hills and it's great. Cycling, don't forget, is very good for you and by doing a 35-minute ride every day of the week on top of my weekend cycling, I like to think I'm doing myself some good. Here are some of the health advantages of cycling, courtesy of Westhill Bikes (see previous post for more details):-

* Reduces weight.
* Improves control of blood pressure in patients with hypertension.
* Improves muscle strength, mobility and co-ordination.
* Lowers resting heart rate (this is definitely true as mine hovers around 55).
* Improves the ratio between HDL (good cholesterol) and LDL (bad cholesterol).
* Reduces the risk of stroke.
* Prevents heart disease.
* Provides a fitness level of someone 10 years younger.
* May ease childbirth.
* Reduces the risk of cancer.
* Reduces anxiety.
* Reduces diabetes.

On Bank Holiday Monday, the heat persisting,  we rode the slow way to the Tatsfield Churchyard and sat there chilling and chatting before heading back down the wooden steps to the road and the ride up the hill to Botley where we parted company.

Heading for the hill out of Westerham

It's now 1725hrs and it's still hot outside. The bike's in the garage and hopefully it'll be alright in the morning for yet another week of 35-minute rides around the block. Can't wait, but I've got a busy week ahead of me.

Westhill Superior Electric Bikes - oh yeah!

I'm the first person to moan about electric bikes. What's the point? Bikes are for exercise and only a real slouch would buy an electric-powered machine. Give me a human-powered bicycle any day. Well, perhaps not. My bike needed a new rear brake so I took it down to Cycle King in Croydon - let's say it's now my favourite and most convenient bike shop, only a short downhill ride away. So I'm in there, I hand in the bike and they tell me it'll be ready around 5pm.

The Westhill Ghost 2.0 and behind that the Phantom at Cycle King...

When the time comes, I'm there and to be honest, I love bike shops. I don't want to simply pick up my machine and head home, I want to look at the bikes, check them out and engage in idle chat with the guys in the shop. And this I did with the store manager. We chatted about Westhill electric bikes, in particular the Ghost 2.0 which I immediately fell in love with, it was a mean-looking machine. Our chat revolved around the usual stuff: what's the point? You don't get as much exercise as you would on a normal bike and so on, but I was wrong. I'm always wrong. There is a point in electric bike ownership. The point is, certainly with the Ghost 2.0 and other bikes in the Westhill range, that you can cover more ground, you have to keep pedalling (you're not riding a moped) and that means you get the exercise and you can travel further.

The motor is in the rear wheel and the Ghost 2.0 looks just like a 'normal' bike except that the rear hub is thicker, coz that's where the motor resides.

The motor is in the rear wheel hub...

The great thing about Cycle King in Croydon is the size of the shop. Compared to most bike shops, it's huge and there's room to ride bikes in the store. The manager convinced me it was worth a try and set the bike's motor to the number three setting (there's nine in total, plus 27 gears) and off I went. As soon as I started to pedal the power kicked in and wow! I get it! I get it!. I wonder what it would be like on setting nine? Only one way to find out! Whoosh! As soon as I touched the pedal I was off and had to remember to stop pedalling when I reached the end of the shop floor. Stop pedalling and the motor cuts out, start pedalling and whoosh! Off you go. I couldn't believe it to be honest. I needed the open road, I needed the hill coming out of Westerham to put a bike like the Ghost 2.0 through its paces. I wanted the 269 as I know this crazy machine could fly and I wanted a piece of it. Sadly, of course, I didn't have time, although I would have loved to have riden the Ghost home.

The price isn't too prohibitive either. At £1,599 it's very reasonable and at Cycle King there's interest credit. My brain was working overtime. It costs me around £130 per month to use the train, but to buy the Westhill would set me back just £120 per month, a saving of £10. Not that such sums would make me flavour of the month if I turned up on my Ghost 2.0 and tried to explain the maths behind my decision.

Another plus point, of course, is that Westhill bikes are British made. There are four bikes in the range (at the time of writing). The Ghost 2.0, the Phantom (more for off-road usage), the Classic (a Dutch style, unisex machine which, because of road tyres, is probably faster than the Ghost and Phantom and, of course, the Link (a foldaway bike). Look, they're all good and I'd be happy with any of them if I'm honest, which I am. My preference? The Ghost 2.0, it has my name written all over it and, ironically, the road next to mine, is Westhill.

A closer look at the Ghost 2.0...

When it comes to charging the battery, the 'lock and load' technology employed by Westhill means that batteries can be charged in or out of the frame. The Ghost 2.0 has disc brakes, 27 gears, 27.5 x 2.10 tyres, puncture-resistant tyres, and a kickstand - perfect! The Phantom has 30 gears (3 x 10) and an otherwise similar spec to the Ghost. As the for Classic (a Dutch-style bike with rack at the back) it offers a walk-assist mode at 4 mph, front and rear disc brakes (like both the Ghost and the Phantom) and the ability to travel up to 100 miles on one charge. The lightweight folding bike that is the Link is pretty good too, in fact, the manager of Cycle King loves it. He'd taken it out for test ride earlier and it was now being charged as we chatted.

Bikes are great fun anyway. Bike shops are great places to be and I think the amazing thing about the bike, apart from the fitness element, is that there's room to become a big kid again. Now, with electric machines, there's something more to get excited about and when I eventually left the store, man-powered machine in tow and a 15-minute uphill ride ahead of me, I felt a little bit sad that I was walking out of the store without a Ghost 2.0. As I said earlier, it had my name written all over it and that equation about £120 per month instead of £130 made more and more sense the further I rode away from the shop.

Riding uphill along the Upper Selsdon Road made me think about the Ghost's electric motor and the speed at which it moved as soon I pushed forward on the pedals. What a bike! WHAT. A. BIKE!

I'm converted. All I need now is the money to buy one as I know what I'd do with it first: I'd ride up Westerham Hill to the Botley Hill pub and sail past all those Lycra monkeys on their carbon fibre racers. Then I'd stop using public transport and ride to work, safe, perhaps, in the knowledge that my tyres are puncture resistant - that, of course, is the acid test. Can tyres really be puncture resistant?

If you're interested in Westhill electric bikes, visit www.westhillbikes.com or call them freephone on 0800 0234 937 or email them at enquiries@westhillbikes.com

Fast way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...twice!

The weather was fine and, you know what? Not a great deal to discuss. We rode to the Tatsfield Bus Stop the fast way, twice, on Saturday and Sunday. We didn't even take any photographs. Well, alright, I took a couple of a field close to the Botley Hill pub, but they're nothing to write home about. What is there to say, in fact? Nothing much. The weather was fine, the rides were uneventful, we did what we always do: sit at the bus stop and chat, but I can't even remember what we chatted about. Andy was in a bit of hurry, he had stuff to do, hence the fast rides to the bus stop. I was up for going to Westerham and it looks like we'll go there on Saturday next week.

Today I did a short ride around 0645hrs. I didn't go far, just round the block. No more than 36 minutes on the road and a few hills here and there. It was okay, just a little work-out before showering and going to work. I might do it tomorrow, but I'm not committing myself. Not much going on generally so I'd better sign off.

Here's that really boring shot I took at Botley Hill...

To the Bus Stop and then the Churchyard...

Heavy winds on Saturday and rain made a planned trip to Westerham a complete no-no. There had been severe weather all over the place, especially up north and in Scotland, but I was under the impression that it wouldn't really affect things down south. How wrong was I? First, it rained heavily overnight and when I woke up it was grey and nasty, but not cold. Andy and I met at the green as usual and decided to go to Westerham, the fast way. But as we rode along the 269 the gloom eventually morphed into rainy gloom and as we made the turn on to Clarks Lane we decided to stop at the Tatsfield bus stop, based on the knowledge that there was no cover in Westerham and we would have been soaked by the time we got there. We sat looking out at the gloom and slowly drying off. It wasn't cold so it didn't really matter.

Heading down Church Way towards home
on Sunday morning..

I rode back along the 269, but decided to hit the off-road path after a gust of wind nearly knocked me off the bike. As I approached Sline's Oak Road there was a car crash and the driver who caused it drove off. He left the scene of an accident and never returned, a crime if ever there was one. A man driving a white Berlingo van had slowed down to turn left into Sline's Oak Road and suddenly I heard the screech of brakes. A Ford Ka or a Ford Fiesta, silver grey, was travelling too fast and tried to slow down but hit the rear of the van, sending it spinning to a stop close to a small pond. For a minute I thought the driver of the Ford was pulling up and making ready to exchange telephone numbers with the guy in the van, but no, he sped off and never returned. Further along the road there's a mini roundabout and I said to the man in the van, who was unhurt, that the guy in the Ford was probably turning round. But my faith in human nature was misplaced. "He probably isn't insured," said the more clued-up van driver, a furniture maker from North Devon who was on his way home. I gave him my telephone number and then headed towards Sanderstead, but I checked the Sainsbury's car park in case the Ford, which had extensive damage at the front, was parked up or abandoned there. All I needed was a licence plate.

Sunday morning on the 269 - not a lot of cars

I relayed the story to Andy on Sunday morning as we rode towards the Tatsfield Churchyard, the long way. The weather had improved considerably, the wind had lessened and the skies weren't grey anymore, but it could have been a little warmer. We sat on our favourite bench and drank our tea, chatting about this and that and then it was time to head home. We rode up the hill towards Botley, Andy parted at the Ridge and I rode the 269, this time remaining on the tarmac and not taking the off-road track.

Two good rides this weekend and hopefully two more next weekend, we'll see.

Two rides: to the churchyard and then (ahem) 'the field'...

Flytippers visit Hesiers Hill

It was good to get two rides in. Both involved Beddlestead Lane, which is always a bit of a chore, but it was a good weekend of cycling and the weather held out too.

On Saturday I was running a little late and when I reached the green we decided to head to the churchyard. It was a fairly average ride, nothing untoward occurred (when does it?). Although, when we reached Hesiers Hill it was disheartening to notice that the fly tippers had been out dumping their rubbish on the road. We stopped, but not for long, and soon we were pedalling hard towards Clarks Lane. I can't say I'm a fan of Beddlestead, but it's a good work-out so it can't be that bad.

When we reached the churchyard we did what we always do: drink tea and chat about this and that. We rode back up the hill towards Botley and parted company at the Ridge.

On Sunday we set up 'camp' close to an adjoining field and the nettle-infested path from which
we had just emerged - unscathed! Pic by Andy Smith.

On Sunday we thought we'd visit 'the field', the one that's just across the road from the Tatsfield Bus Stop. The last time we were there was roughly a year ago when the field was full of corn and the sun shone brightly. Perhaps it was earlier in the month, I don't know, but there was no corn, just grass, and it was wet. We entered the field from White Lane because Andy said the path from the other side was overgrown with nettles and thistles (he was right). It took a while to find the path (the North Downs Way) but when we did there was a short ride under tree cover towards a gate and that meant we'd have to manhandle the bikes. Andy suggested lifting them on to their rear wheels, which seemed to do the trick, and once we were both through we decided to get to the churchyard to drink our tea. Between us and our destination, however, were plenty of thistles and nettles. Andy was ahead of me, but suddenly I found him standing still in front of me. "It's thick with nettles, we'll get stung to buggery in our shorts!"I was wearing my camouflage shorts that I had purchased in Miami in 2007*, they're a bit baggy and I wouldn't even think about going commando. Andy might not have used the word 'buggery', in fact I'm sure he didn't, but it seems to express the way he was thinking perfectly. Shorts are not ideal where nettles and thistles are concerned, although I discovered recently that a nettle's sting can penetrate through long trousers, so there's no way out. Andy was prepared to go back the way we'd come and to be fair, I thought we might have to as I looked over his shoulder at what awaited us, but it was worth a try I thought. "I reckon we can do it," I said, taking the lead and employing the bike as some kind of battering ram to flatten the nettles on my left while steering clear of the nettles on my right. It worked and soon I found myself close to the roadside next to an old tree trunk. Andy followed and I don't think either of us were stung. Our decision to advance to the churchyard was based on the heavy dew that hung over the field. There was nowhere to sit down.

The field was damp so we battled with nettles to find a place for tea.
We had just emerged from those woods you can see across the field

"We might as well have our tea here," I said, pointing to the tree trunk. Andy agreed so I pulled out the flask and the teabags and milk.
"I don't understand why nettles exist," I said. "I know everything has a meaning, a purpose, but I can't see the purpose of stinging nettles."
"Ladybirds like them, apparently; they lay their eggs on them; you would have thought they'd find other plants," Andy said, slightly flustered about the whole situation.
"Bastards," I added, or I should have, perhaps I did, I can't remember.

Further along, loads of nettles...

Last year the field was full of corn, this year it was just grass. "I think it's what they call crop rotation," I said and Andy was reminded of school. "I remember learning that," he said, and so did I.

"What about oxbow lakes?" I said.
"I remember those too," he replied.
"I've seen one from the train, somewhere near Northampton," I said, like the geek I was. Actually, I'm not a geek.

It was time to head back up the hill towards Botley again. As we passed the dew-laden field on our left, Andy spotted a metal gate. "We should have lifted our bikes over that gate," he said, but it was too late now. Perhaps if we'd seen the gate we might have ended up in the churchyard, but one thing was for sure: a lesson had been learned. No more field unless we could be guaranteed it would be dry, but either way there was still the hassles of humping our bikes over the gates, and who can be bothered to lift the bikes? Not us!

We were on the North Downs Way...

We parted again at the Ridge, pledging to be back on the bikes next week. The rides back along the 269 on both days were quiet, not much in the way of traffic, which was good. The weather was good too, warm and bright, but not much in the way of blue sky and sunshine.

There's been two mass shootings in the USA, one in El Paso, Texas, in a Walmart where 20 were killed and 26 injured. It's being classed as a hate crime (surely, that's obvious). Not sure about the second shooting, but it took place in a bar on East 5th Street called Ned Peppers in Dayton City, Ohio, in the Oregon district of the town and nine people were killed.

In other news... Iran has seized another tanker and Boris Johnson is pledging £1.8 billion for hospital upgrading, except that nobody believes him. Time will tell.

Andy arriving at Warlingham Green...

* I visited Miami in 2007 to attend SNAXPO, a conference and exposition about the snacks industry in the USA.  I was staying on North Hollywood beach in a hotel that was yards from the sea and was with a colleague, Nick Thorp, who would later join Andy and I on one of the Black Horse bike rides.

Sunday - to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

On Saturday it rained all day. It was that horrible, persistent, constant drizzle, interspersed with heavier downpours. Outside everything was wet and dripping and the skies were grey; gone was the clear, blue skies of the week just past when the UK sizzled in record temperatures: it was something like 38 degrees, the hottest ever, but that all changed on Saturday morning. I was up at 0600hrs, looking out of the window at a puddle on next door's flat-roofed extension. Rain was hammering down. I immediately sent Andy an abort text, but hesitated slightly, thinking that perhaps I should wait to see how things look at 0700hrs. But I sent the abort as the rain had its slippers on and was planning to hang around. It never stopped and I resigned myself to not going out. Instead, I lolled about fretting about this and that (holidays, money, the usual things) and then later I discovered that Andy had gone out! I couldn't believe it at first, but he'd gone out in the pouring rain and was adventurous enough to consider a ride to Westerham, the slow way! In the end, having stopped at the bus stop to shelter from the storm, I think he decided to head for home and, let's be straight here, he was soaked through, but not cold, he later told me. I guess respect is due for this, he's either a legend or a fool and I'm going to opt for the former.

Andy braved the rain on Saturday and I think he's bought a new bike...

Later I checked out my iphone to see what the weather had in store for Sunday. There was a white cloud, but fortunately no blue rain coming out of it; fine, it was going to be an overcast day, but at least I'd get a ride in. And sure enough, the next morning was grey but dry, although it had rained overnight, I think. I met Andy on the Green and we headed for the Tatsfield Bus Stop the slow way. As we cycled along, Andy told me about his ride in the rain on Saturday as we weaved our way around the country lanes, down Hesiers Hill and up Beddlestead. The bushes and shrubs on either side of the road had grown considerably and at places they poured onto the road. There were a few Lycra monkeys around. We reached our destination and out came the tea and biscuits, although I've given up the Belvitas. We sat there, as we always do, making small talk, watching passing cyclists and motorists and then, after our two cups of tea, we jumped back on the bikes and headed home, Andy rode along the The Ridge while I took the 269 heading towards Warlingham. I got home around 0930hrs and, for the first time in a few weeks, I felt energised. It was good to get back on the bike.

Is this Andy's new bike last weekend in Westerham?

No cycling this weekend...

... and I suppose it was all my fault; it certainly wasn't Andy's. On Friday night I went out to meet some friends and while I didn't touch any alcohol - for those who don't know, I haven't touched the stuff for around 21 months - I did indulge in some home-made iced tea. It was wonderful, so much so that I had a couple of glasses and enjoyed every last drop. Later, prior to jumping into the car and driving off into the stormy weather that was Friday night, I also enjoyed a cup of normal tea. Again, very nice, but what I had failed to consider was my caffeine intake. For around the same time I've been off the booze, I've also been off the caffeine. I now drink decaff tea, but not on Friday night. Anyway, I reached home around 2330hrs but wasn't feeling in the slightest bit tired or weary. I decided not to go to bed, but to watch a movie, Man Up, with Simon Pegg. No, it's not my type of film at all, but I wanted to see what the director made of an essentially very simple scenario (man goes on blind date with the wrong girl but ends up falling in love). Look, it was fine, let's leave it at that. But I was still buzzing and decided to get on the computer, check things out. By the time I marched upstairs to bed, still wired, it was approaching 0200hrs. I thought it best to abort and did so there and then.

Andy got to Westerham, but I stayed at home...

For some time now, ever since returning from Dusseldorf, I've had a sore throat and a dry cough. The sore throat was initially very unpleasant and the cough was also not very nice, but they've both persisted. In the middle of the night, just after midnight, I awoke with a coughing fit. In the end I had to get out of bed and head downstairs to make some tea (this time decaff). I turned on the computer, checked out the BBC website (Iran had seized a British ship in the Middle East) and killed time until I'd finished my tea. I thought about aborting, but decided not to. Best, perhaps, to see how I felt in the morning. My alarm went off at 0600hrs and I wasn't feeling good at all. I decided to abort and climb back into bed, eventually falling asleep and then waking around 0900hrs. I needed the sleep, put it that way, but, as usual, the weather was fantastic and I missed out on a ride. Andy posted a photo on Twitter: he'd gone to Westerham, where I was planning on going had I gone out. Anyway, you can't cry over spilt milk, as my mum says. Well, you can, it's just pointless. So I painted the side gate and sat in the garden catching a few rays and didn't really do much all day. I'm under the weather, feeling weary and it's not good.

I slobbed around all day after finishing the gate. I sat in the garden reading the Rough Guide to Cult Fiction, a great read. I've done the crossword (nothing too challenging, just the Waitrose Weekend magazine) and the only clue I didn't get was the name for a baby salmon. Any clues?

Here's to next week's ride.

The Tudor Rose is closed, there's no tea for Sunday's ride...

First, when we arrived in Westerham fully expecting to eat a massive breakfast, we found one of the Tudor Rose waitresses sitting on the green. She'd only got up because she heard me exclaiming that the restaurant was closed. It's not normally closed, but the door was locked, the lights were off, the tables had chairs resting on top of them. Why wasn't it open? According to the waitress, the only person with a key hadn't turned up. She didn't seem to know why. "It doesn't matter," I said, but it did matter. Andy and I rarely have breakfast in Westerham and we'd decided that today we would do just that: ride to Westerham and eat a hearty breakfast. But it was not to be. We skulked off. The Italian caff was also closed, leaving us with one option: the Costa Coffee. We don't like Costa because it charges a fortune for not very much, like all coffee chains. In fact, we rarely ride into Oxted because we know we'll end up paying the best part of a tenner for a cup of tea. But now there was no alternative. We found a table outside and I went in and ordered. "Two teas and, er... two Bakewell tarts," said I. "That'll be £50,000," said the woman behind the counter. Actually, she said "That'll be £8.80," and I placed my debit card on the machine until it beeped. Then there was that monotonous wait while another person pieced the order together: the cups, the saucers, filling the two small white teapots with water, adding the teabags and then retrieving the Bakewell tarts from the counter display. I nearly dropped the lot, thanks to a pillar behind me that I hadn't noticed, but all was well and soon I was outside, placing the tray of goodies on the table and taking a seat.

Tea and Bakewell tarts, Costa, Westerham

The waitress from the Tudor Rose was back on the green waiting for the person to arrive with the key, but every now and then she'd get up and come back towards the Costa, go inside and then reappear again. We continued to eat our tarts and sip our teas and very pleasant it was too, until it was time to go, that is. Around 0845 we headed off up the hill and it was pretty painless. We parted at the Ridge and I rode the length of the 269 without resorting to the off-road path. I was home around 0945 and then drove off into deepest Sussex for the day. It had been a great ride and good weather too.

Our bikes outside Costa, Westerham

Sunday the weather was poor. It was spitting rain and then the spits turned to drizzly rain, but it was fairly warm out so it didn't matter. We were both running later. Earlier, Andy had texted me saying just that, he was running later. I texted back. "So am I, can't find the top to the flask." And I never did find it and eventually resorted to the fact that there would be no tea. We both arrived at the green at 0745hrs and decided to head for the bus stop the slow way. "It won't be the same without tea," I said. "It's more than just tea," said Andy and we rode off along the Limpsfield Road.

Warlingham Green on Saturday morning. Pic by Andy Smith

As the rain drizzled down we talked about the recent Purley stabbings and I said that I remembered when I was a kid, everybody had knives, pen knives or even flick knives, but there was never any knife-related violence. Beddlestead Lane is mentally and physically challenging, but today it was fine and soon we found ourselves on Clarks Lane and making the left turn towards the bus stop. When we got there we knew there was no tea to drink. I broke my 'no biscuits' rule and ate two of Andy's Belvitas and then we looked at the long grass in front of us. "We can't even flick our tea bags," I said.

A mug but no tea at the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Pic: Andy Smith

With no tea to drink - we normally have two cups each - we cut our stay at the bus stop short and headed for home, Andy parting at the Ridge and me heading down the 269. Again, I didn't opt for the off-road path and reached home at 0920hrs.

Saturday's ride was great, but Sunday's was marred by the rain and the lack of tea, but all-in-all, both rides were alright and we managed almost 40 miles of riding.

On the news front, it's being reported that Donald Trump pulled out of the Iran nuclear deal purely to spite Barack Obama. Serena Williams lost the Wimbledon final and there's more fall-out from the Kim Darroch affair involving press freedom.

To Woodmansterne Green to see Bon and then mum's, but rained off on Sunday

The sun was shining on Saturday morning and it was perfect cycling weather. I left the house around 0720hrs and headed for Woodmansterne Green to meet Bon. The heat made the ride a pleasant one and I followed the usual route along Foxley Lane. Bon cycled down the road to meet me as I rode towards the green and we simply wandered about chatting about this and that and, of course, drinking tea.

When Bon left I carried on towards Carshalton. I was on my way to mum's house. Within seconds of arriving, a man dropped by to measure up her kitchen door, she's having a new aluminium one fitted in a week or two.

Recent pic of mum

While I was there I enjoyed a couple of slices of fruit cake (I can't help myself) and a couple of Twix fingers, but then cycling's a form of exercise that demands food.

The ride home, again following the usual route (see previous 'round to mum's' posts) was very pleasant, although tackling the south face of West Hill is always a bit daunting. I was home around 1100hrs and spent the rest of the day slobbing around, chilling in the back garden, not doing that much.

Strangely, Sunday's ride was rained off. Bon sent me an abort text. I thought the rain would stop and the sun would come out, and it did, but not until late afternoon.

All day I've felt a little down in the dumps and gradually a sore throat presented itself. I sat and watched Ben Fogle in Antarctica and then Peter Davidson and Christopher Timothy driving around the Scottish Highlands in a blue Morgan.

It is now Monday morning, and any thoughts I had of trying to cycle 10 miles before work have been put on the back burner, thanks to the sore throat. I'm even considering taking the day off sick, but I'm not sure if I feel THAT bad. It takes a lot for me to take a day off sick from work. There's no LemSip in the house (their never is when I need it) so I might just make myself a second cup of tea.

No cycling this weekend...

I can't blame the weather. Alright, I can blame a week in Dusseldorf for taking it easy on Saturday morning, although I had planned to ride over Woodmansterne way to meet Bon. We hadn't arranged anything, but I could have called him or left a text and that way I would have committed myself. But I didn't call or text. In fact, sitting here now, at 1838hrs on a Sunday evening, Kylie Minogue performing at Glastonbury - "Put your hand on your heart and tell me" - I'm feeling a bit ashamed of myself for doing absolutely no exercise. I've slobbed about, I've taken the car over to mum's, eaten cake and biscuits, then changed a pair of trousers in M&S and there's not much else I can remember about Saturday.

As for Sunday, I had a golden opportunity to go cycling, but decided that a planned drive into darkest Sussex took preference and, ultimately, I kept the bike under lock and key. Once I'd abandoned the proper ride, which would have been to meet Bon on Woodmansterne Green, all that was left was riding the Woodland Trek. Well, I sent Bon a text, but he'd had a rough night and didn't fancy it. I texted back to say that I had some driving to do so perhaps cycling was a bad idea. Let's meet next Saturday, that seemed like the best policy.

Suddenly I felt 'off the hook'. I mooched around the house, still considering the aforementioned Woodland Trek, but time was ticking, time was running out. I didn't go anywhere, other than deepest Sussex in the car. On the way back I was feeling sleepy and had to stop in huge Tesco store in Pulborough where the shelves were empty in places. I bought a bottle of mineral water and a Bounty and miraculously I was able to drive again. This happened once before; I was feeling sleepy so I ate a Bounty and was instantly revived. Anyway, I got home otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. Kylie's still on and, to be honest, she's putting in a pretty lame performance. Even when Nick Cave joined her on stage, it was underwhelming.

Reading a great book at the moment, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. Brilliant, but I'm only on Chapter Four so I'll keep you all posted. I'm also reading Another Fine Mess by Tim Moore, which is all about a journey across America, through Trump's America no less, in a Ford Model T.

What's happening in the world? The Tory party leadership battle continues with two contenders left in the race, the obese buffoon that is Boris Johnson and the slightly more palatable Jeremy Hunt. I don't want either to win, but if I had to make a choice it would be Hunt. Also in the news, a pregnant woman was stabbed and killed in Thornton Heath, near Croydon, Surrey. The baby is in a critical condition in hospital. I've mentioned Glastonbury. Last night's performance by the Killers was good, especially when the Pet Shop Boys and then Johnny Marr appeared, but I haven't really been watching it. Kylie is still on, getting emotional. Worse still, that awful Chris Martin has just joined her on stage. That bloke is always gate-crashing other people's acts and he's so boring, not very rock and roll is what I'm saying. Get off the stage, you cock! I can't stand him or Coldplay. One person we should all try to get out of heads and minds is Chris Martin, the cappuccino 'rocker', the skinny latte of establishment rock, the clean-cut nob cheese of popular music. Oh, I do hope Coldplay won't be performing, I really do.

Church bells are ringing out from the Glasto stage and Kylie's performance is now confirmed as absolute girly bollocks. Especially for you, I wanna let you know what I was going through...no!!! Anything but that song. I suppose Donovan will be waltzing on to the stage in a second, let's hope not. Look, I'm signing off, it's all too depressing.