Keeping it respectable...unlike Matt Hancock!

You know my rule, 70 miles or more per week and nothing less, that's the only way I can claim any kind of respectability out there in the cyclesphere, and this week I never thought I'd manage it. I was at work for three days and that put paid to any 'after work' riding. On Sunday just passed I rode to Tatsfield village to meet Andy, due to the possibility of rain and the fact that there's no cover in Westerham. Fine, but it reduced my mileage down from the usual 24 + plus miles to just 18.22 miles. I was on a loser, it seemed, but on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I rode the Beddlestead route (17.40 miles) and that bumped things up a little bit. Saturday morning I was set to make it around 80 miles, but foolishly in retrospect, I only repeated the Beddlestead run, giving me a weekly total of just over 70 miles (70.46 to be precise). I can live with that.

Col Du Skelly, a marker on Beddlestead Lane...

I started a new week today (Sunday 27 June) and rode to Westerham to meet Andy. I was thinking last night that we were going to be rained off, but no, it was fine. The weather was pleasant, fairly warm, a little cloudy and there was some fine drizzle but we avoided a soaking and now, at 1215hrs I'm back home and listening to Radiohead. Why? Because the BBC has been repeating Glastonbury and devoted a whole programme to the band's 1997 performance, which was little short of amazing. So now I'm listening to tracks from my favourite Radiohead album, The Bends, it's brilliant. I'm alone in the house, which means nobody is going to insist I turn it down or turn it off and yes, I'm typing a blogpost about my past week, which I've already explained. It's not possible to ride after work and unless I ride to work on the bike, which I've done in the past, cycling is off the agenda until a day I don't have to visit the office. Of course, theoretically, the Government is still saying stay at home if you can, but the company wants us in, in bubbles, and last week was my 'bubble' so in I went. To be fair, I welcome it. It's nice to see colleagues, visit the Pop Inn cafe for lunch and chew the fat with people I haven't seen for some time.

Looking up Beddlestead Lane...

It's Sunday, early afternoon, Matt Hancock has resigned his post as health secretary having been filmed grabbing the arse of his squeeze and, therefore, flagrantly flouting his own rules about social distancing. He's left his wife and, well, he's in a right mess. Boris Johnson, of course, was happy for him to stay in his post because, he, Johnson, has very, very low standards and is himself a dishonest arsehole who, like Hancock, and, indeed the rest of the party, should be removed from power. Look at the mess they've got the country in: Brexit, the highest COVID deaths in Europe and yet we voted for the cunts. Everybody is pissed off with Hancock and let's be fair they were pissed off before he was caught on camera snogging his bird. It's now a couple of days after the event and people are still seething, but their seething is tinged with glee as they know he's gone and is probably right this minute crying into his dinner. No longer in a position of power, it's only a matter of time before his mistress gets pissed off and decides to stay with her multi-millionaire husband, unless, of course, he kicks her out, although I hear she's left her husband, Hancock's left his wife and they're going to shack up together. How awful. She'll soon get fed up now he's no longer a member of the cabinet and just plain old Matt Hancock MP, an unimportant back bencher.

The Rockhopper at the top of Beddlestead Lane...

Andy and I were both running a little late. I arrived in Westerham around 0915 and spotted Andy sitting outside of Costa with a cup of black coffee and a slice of cake, his bike neatly parked next to him. I bought myself a large English Breakfast tea and a cinnamon brioche bun and then sat outside with Andy. We chatted about a number of things in between my bouts of heavy sneezing and itchy eyes. Hay fever. I get it every year.

I was heading in the Warlingham direction...

Andy's thinking about a 'dawn to dusk' bike ride to Cornwall to see his sister. It sounds like a great idea, getting up at the crack of dawn on the longest day of the year and riding until dusk. Andy reckons he could cover the 250-mile distance or get pretty close. I wouldn't mind having a stab at something like that. We talked about the Dunwich Dynamo, a night ride from Hackney to Dunwich in Suffolk, something else we'd both like to do, although there's the worry of how to get back home. Where's the nearest station, for example? But then I suggested renting a car or a van and we both agreed that would be the solution. Mind you, riding through the night could be hard and apparently it can get a little edgy when you reach Epping Forest, or so we've heard. It started to rain, but not heavily, so we remained seated and eventually it stopped and then it was time to head home, never a nice moment, the thought of the hill all the way to Botley and then, for me, the ride up the steep bit of Slines Oak Road.

Beddlestead Lane, not a million miles from the end.

Andy's on holiday next week so I'll have to motivate myself next Sunday, but at least this week I got off to a good start, a 22-mile ride. It's weird how the distances vary on Strava: today it was something like 22.95 miles, but the same ride has recorded as longer. I rely on Strava these days and, as Andy says, if it's not on Strava, it didn't happen.

Yours truly

It's official, by the way, Andy's become a vegan. He's riding daily, he's losing loads of weight, he's given up on eating animals and he's not finding it at all difficult. I mentioned that when I gave up drinking it was like flicking a switch and I no longer cared. I never really had any pangs, any craving for a beer, I just stopped and that was it; it's nearly been four years. We were having this conversation as we rode out of Westerham towards the hill, but we both know the hill starts as soon as we leave the northern Kent market town and that it's a right old slog all the way to the Botley Hill roundabout and then we follow The Ridge into Woldingham.

I'm amazed we both escaped a soaking. In fact it didn't rain all day and only started this evening (it's pissing down now).

A strange dream, yes, but I managed 84.75 miles this week, not bad!

A strange dream last night and very vivid. I was in the house of a very rich person and was engaged in some kind of game, I'm not exactly sure, but we were in a large space with a glass roof, possibly a very big conservatory and we were in what must have been water that was covered with white rose petals, up to our necks in it; I say 'we' because I was not alone. Sir Richard Branson was one of the guests and so was veteran newsman Harold Evans, plus myself and I can't recall anybody else. I was intrigued about Evans' presence, not because he's dead, but because there was a connection between him and my father and I wanted to ask him if he remembered dad. I never got the chance. Branson, incidentally, must have been fully submerged in the water because he broke the surface with a toothy smile and then we all sort of sat there not really saying a great deal. The next scene was outside somewhere, presumably in the grounds of the huge house in which this strange situation took place. I was walking along, possibly crossing a bridge over water or even simply walking along a concrete path bordered by a low wall behind which there was water, possibly a lake of some sort. Robert de Niro was leaning against the wall, but just before we engaged with one another a man started to attempt tripping me up from behind. He didn't succeed, but at one point he grabbed me by the short and curlies, said something offensive and then moved on. He was an older man with broad shoulders and farmers' clothes, a brown jacket, possibly corduroy trousers, the details are sketchy, but he passed by and soon I was telling Robert de Niro what had happened, pointing the man out as he strode away from us and disappeared. We walked in the man's direction, not with any intention of chasing him. We turned right and I heard myself saying, "So, how's it all going on the sartorial elegance front?" A strange question to ask, but one he answered without hesitation. He said he was fine and had seemingly taken my advice, but what I might have advised him I simply don't know. When he had gone I found myself approaching a young woman who I mistook for Harold Evans' wife, but she was far too young for that and pointed me elsewhere. Once again, my true aim was to ask Evans if he remembered my dad and I probably thought that by finding his wife I might stand a chance, but it wasn't to be. Lastly, prior to waking up, I was somewhere else and while something was going on, I can't remember exactly what. It was 0600hrs, it was raining outside (or about to) and a day of work lay ahead of me.

Tea and cake, Tudor Rose, Westerham

I'd had a fairly good week on the bike, unlike the previous week when I did absolutely no cycling, apart from the Sunday ride with Andy. Why I don't know, but after my jab on Thursday (not last week, the week before) I felt a little weary and didn't even go last Saturday, so my weekly total was something like 22 miles or thereabouts. This past week, however,  has been far better. On the Sunday just past (13 June) I rode into to Westerham to meet Andy. We sat on the green as usual, chatted about this and that, watched a few Harley Davidsons roll by and then rode home, parting at the top of Slines Oak Road in Woldingham. I then rode down the hill, up the other side and home. Fortunately I was motivated enough on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to ride three Washpond Weebles, but on Thursday there was rain, loads of it, all day long, and more is promised according to the weather people. I would like to ride today, Friday (18 June) and then again on Saturday (19 June), but my current total is just under 60 miles so even if I don't ride today and manage to get a ride in on Saturday, my weekly total will hover over 80 miles, which is a result. Right now it's looking pretty gloomy out there, in fact it's raining now, I can hear it, so a ride today is probably out of the question, which is a shame. Yesterday I was seriously considering a ride. I went out on to the driveway and there was a lovely smell of rain in the air. Fortunately, I decided not to ride and no sooner had I made that decision it started to rain, just like it is right now. There are those who will say it's good for the garden and perhaps they're right, but sod the garden I want to ride my bike. It is Friday 18 June 2021 and as I say, it's not been a bad week for cycling and it's not over yet; if today's a wash-out, there's always tomorrow and I think it'll fine on Saturday, but the weather will deteriorate as the day progresses, or so they say. I might still get to eat cake and drink English breakfast tea on the green at Westerham, but whether Andy and I will be meeting on Sunday (20 June) I don't know. We will see.

So it's now Saturday morning as I write this and everything is dull and still and it's looking as if it'll rain at any moment, although the weather people are still saying it will be cloudy, no rain, not until later in the day, or possibly overnight. It's 0739hrs and I'm planning to hit the road around 0800hrs. My iPhone says a mixture of cloud and sunshine today, certainly until lunch time, which means if I'm quick I could get myself down to Westerham and score a quick 22 miles, which would bring my total this week to just over 80 miles, not bad going, but let's see.

Well, it's now 1220hrs on Saturday morning and I've not long returned from a ride to Westerham, which was fantastic. Alright, it was cloudy, but it wasn't cold and while on the outward journey there was a fine shower of drizzle for a short while, I sailed along Beddlestead Lane and down Clarks Lane, turning left into Pilgrims Lane, passing the Velo Barn and then riding into Westerham where I found the Tudor Rose Tearooms. I sat inside, ordered tea and a slice of coffee & walnut cake, which could have been a little fresher, but it did the job, and soon I found myself back on the bike riding home. I decided to follow The Ridge into Woldingham, braced myself for the steep hill at the end of Slines Oak Road and then turned left on to the B269 and headed home. In total this week I rode 84.75 miles, a vast improvement on last week's 22 miles, and right now I feel good and I'm looking forward to a drive to Chartwell, which is just outside of Westerham, so I'll be retracing some of this morning's ride in the car.

The Westerham ride was fantastic as everything is in bloom. As I rode along Beddlestead the cow parsley was tipped with teardrops of rain and as that fine drizzle fell to the ground quietly, as only drizzle can do, I embraced the moment, the misty air, the warmth of a summer morning, the tweeting of the birds in the hedgerows, what was not to like, I thought, as I pedalled along looking forward to seeing the mobile phone mast that signifies the near end of Beddlestead Lane and the refreshing downhill ride towards Pilgrims Lane. I really hope that rain doesn't stop play tomorrow (Sunday 20 June) as I'm looking forward to meeting Andy on the green in Westerham* for our weekly chinwag.

* We met in Tatsfield village.

64 miles, thanks to the Dunton Green Growler...

 A poor week of cycling redeemed itself on Saturday with a ride to Dunton Green in Kent. The weather was wonderful and it felt great riding along Pilgrim's Lane. I ended up in Bojangles where a cup of tea and a slice of coffee cake made things even better, although my cake addiction is worrying and needs to be stopped. I sat on the green opposite the cafe, which is takeaway only at the moment and has been for some time, thanks to the pandemic.

The Washpond Weeble...

During the week I didn't start riding until Wednesday, but after two rides, the last one on Thursday, the rain fell from the skies for the whole of Friday, putting any thoughts of a ride out of the question. I managed a Washpond Weeble and a ride along Beddlestead Lane and then along The Ridge and home, total mileage was around 29 miles, giving me little to redeem myself. In a way I felt a little guilty for not kicking myself into gear, but then it was my first week back at work having enjoyed a week off. So, 35.90 miles did the trick, add the 12 miles for the Weeble and the 17 miles for the Beddlestead run and it added up to what? Around 64 miles, I can't remember exactly. If you read last week's post you'll know that nothing over 70 miles can be considered respectable in my book, but then I tend to fret about stuff like this when I shouldn't really worry about it. Sixty four miles is alright and I'll have to try to do better this coming week. I've got work on Monday and Tuesday this week, and by that I mean actually going into the office. I could ride in, but I won't, it's too much of a faff and I'd have to leave the house at an ungodly hour, ie 0630hrs and that would mean missing a mammoth breakfast, which has become a regular habit. I like nothing more than getting up early and eating a hearty brekkie, but now I think about it, I have to leave the house early so it won't be that mammoth and I won't have time to really enjoy it, less if I ride in. I'll just have to ensure I get a few shorter rides in from Wednesday through to Friday and then, adding a ride to Westerham next Saturday should give me a respectable mileage. It's all about a respectable mileage.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane

I love the summer, it's the best season of the year. No need to wrap up and wear a balaclava, no need for layers of clothing and no need for gloves either. I love it! And there's nothing nicer than riding through the countryside on narrow lanes smelling the passing cow parsley and the last few days of the bluebells that shimmer in the woods on either side of the road.

Summer 2021 is not as good as last year, but there's still time so let's not get too pessimistic. Last Friday's rain was a bit depressing, it drizzled all day long and while I thought it would brighten up in the late afternoon there was no chance; it rained into the night. But Saturday morning started with mist and gradually brightened up. Sitting across the road from Bojangles on the white plastic seats provided I lapped up the sunshine eating the aforementioned slice of coffee cake with my tea. The ride back wasn't half as wearisome as I thought it would be and soon I found myself on the hill leading up to the Botley roundabout. There was traffic on the Slines Oak Road that might have slowed me down, but even though the hill is steep I somehow weaved around the cars that were stacking up on their approach to the 269. I'm amazed I kept the bike on two wheels in such a low gear, but I managed it and then sailed home along the Limpsfield Road towards home.

On The Ridge...

On Sunday morning I left around 0800hrs and when I reached Westerham there was no sign of Andy. For a short while I thought I'd missed a message and that he'd rescheduled, but no, he was on his way. Soon enough he arrived and told me all about his 162-mile jaunt to Rye, Dungeness and the surrounding area. I felt tired for him, but what an achievement. Andy, if you're reading this, take a couple of days off, you don't want to overdo things, it's not good for you. We sat on our favourite table, me with an almond croissant and a paper cup of English breakfast, Andy with a fruit drink, a cookie, a chocolate cakey thing given to him by mistake and, well, it doubled as a kind of second breakfast and rightly deserved after all the cycling. We chatted about his mammoth ride and eventually headed for home. I decided not to ride along The Ridge as I had stuff to do, like mowing the lawn, so I rode the 269, keeping a weather eye on the traffic.

Woods along The Ridge

I've got my second jab this week, can't say I'm looking forward to it, but needs must and all that.

A short break on Pilgrims Lane on last Saturday

It's worth pointing out, incidentally, that this blogpost has been waiting all week to be posted as, for some reason unknown to man, the images you see never uploaded to Google Photos for an entire week. Today, as I write this, Thursday 10 June, the day of my second jab, I found them on the site and now I can press the 'publish' button.

The bike on Pilgrims Lane last Saturday

It was a good week on the bike, that redeemed itself with the Dunton Green Growler. This week is looking a bit dodgy. The weather yesterday was amazing but I was feeling down, demoralised, I don't know, and I left the house without wearing a crash helmet. I didn't realise until I reached Church Way and was halfway up the hill. I thought about turning back or pressing on and decided on the latter. When I reached home I'd travelled all of 1.79 miles.

Bojangles in Dunton Green, time for some cake!

I must go out today, I keep telling myself, but it's jab day and I think you're supposed to take things easy, we'll see.

Tea and coffee cake, Dunton Green

The cake must stop, it just must.

75 miles last week, a respectable distance...

 I managed 75 miles or thereabouts last week. The weather picked up, which was nice, and because I'd taken the week off work I wasn't limited to rides after 1630hrs. Often times, riding late in the afternoon is wearisome and if I think too hard about the ride, like cycling up Church Hill or along Beddlestead Lane, then I start to feel tired and there's a very real chance that I simply won't go. It's great, of course, if I get out and reach that point of no return, because I know that I have to finish the ride, I can't shorten it and it means I can chalk up some miles on Strava. Now I know that sounds very Lycra monkey, I get that, but the great thing about Strava is that it records everything and earns me a bit of kudos in the process.

I stopped for tea along Beddlestead Lane.

Last week saw me riding along Beddlestead Lane then turning right at the end, riding towards Botley and than taking a left turn into The Ridge and following the road through Woldingham, up Slines Oak Road and home, a total of 17.39 miles, but it varied. The second ride was 17.41 miles and the third was 17.88 miles, although, on one of them, I did return home temporarily to check I'd locked the doors, which I had so it was pointless going back.

Towards the end of Beddlestead Lane

On one ride, the weather was so pleasant that I stopped around three quarters of the way along Beddlestead for a cup of tea. I'd brought a flask with me and sat on the side of the road. It was idyllic. There was almost total silence apart from the sound of the birds and then the occasional cyclist pedalling past and remarking on the weather. I had enough water and teabags for a second cup and I could have stayed longer, but decided to push on and finish the ride. I had intended to ride into Westerham, but didn't. I figured that around 17.5 miles was a good enough jaunt.

The serenity of Beddlestead Lane, total silence

At one stage during the week I realised I was on for a pretty good weekly mileage total, but as always things got in the way and I had to recalculate my distances. I figured that one more 17.5 miles or so would give me the magical 75 miles and that was it. I'd tasked myself with decorating a bedroom and it took three days from start to finish but put paid to a few rides. I never went out on Sunday (the start of my cycling week) and now I'm back at work and it's Wednesday. I must ride today, tomorrow and Friday if I'm to put in a respectable mileage at the end of the week. And you might well ask 'what is respectable?' and in my book it's 70 miles or over, anything less is a case of 'could do better'. Why 70? I don't know, but it seems about right, although my aim is to ride over 90 if possible, although I'll make do with around 80 miles if I have to; it all goes back to that 1630 ride and whether I feel up to it. It's great reaching home knowing I've done it, but it's hard to motivate myself to get out there and that's the key.

On The Ridge heading for Woldingham

One thing I did last week was fix the phone situation. I am now the proud owner of an iPhone XS and the battery is good enough to allow me to use Strava and take a few photographs, something the old blog has been lacking over the past few weeks. My old iphone 5S has been put out to grass and while the XS is slightly bigger, it's far, far better.

Looking across fields from The Ridge

Here's hoping I get out today, tomorrow and Friday and that my Saturday ride to Westerham gives me a respectable weekly distance.

A bad week for cycling: blustery weather and rain put paid to my exercise!

The week before last was brilliant. I managed to ride 105 miles and you can read more about that in the previous post. This week has not been so good and it's entirely to do with the weather. All week it's been on and off raining, one minute it's nice and sunny, but then I turn around, the skies have darkened and it's raining. Normally this happens around 1600hrs when I'm considering stopping work for the day and getting some exercise. The end result, of course, is that I don't get out, I resign myself to no cycling and, you know, I'm kind of relieved. Why? Because at the end of the day I'm knackered. I know it sounds odd using the word 'knackered' when all I do is sit at a desk, but after a full day, starting around 0800hrs, I'm done by the close of play around 1600hrs and I want to do is sit down and watch an episode of Detectorists on iPlayer.

Every day of last week was the same and as the week drew to a close I soon realised that my mileage would be nowhere near what it was last week.

On Friday night I didn't get much in the way of sleep. I developed a kind of phantom toothache, a nagging dull ache the eventually forced me, at 0200hrs, to seek out some painkillers and deal with the problem. I dropped one around 0230hrs and went back to bed, waking around 0430hrs and somehow managing to get through to 0600hrs before getting up. A ride was out of the question. I was feeling weary and would remain that way for the rest of the day, so I found Detectorists on the iPlayer and watched a few episodes at random. I'm going to have to write an entire post about Detectorists and the genius of Mackenzie Crook. All of the characters are brilliantly portrayed by some top class actors, led by Toby Jones and Crook, it's always a hazy summer's day (apart from the Christmas Special at the end of Series 2) and I find I can lose myself in the fields. Oh to live that sort of life, with no real worries, nothing stressful going on, just endless summer days of wandering the fields, drinking tea from a flask and talking bollocks. It's a bit like Andy and I on our bikes come to think of it. Perhaps there's a comedy series waiting to get out of NoVisibleLycra, who knows?

Tea and cake in Redhill's M&S cafe on Saturday

After Detectorists and with a blanket keeping me warm, I watched Tales of the Unexpected and then did very little else until around 2pm when I drove to Redhill to look around the shops. I went to Waterstone's and realised there were lots of books I wanted to read. I sat in a virtually empty M&S cafe with a huge chunk of coffee and walnut cake, something I should have avoided if toothache was the problem, but I'm not sure it was. Tea and cake and light conversation and then another wander around the bookshop before driving around Redhill for a bit and then driving into and around Reigate. I can't remember what time I reached home, but I was still a little weary and later found myself watching the Eurovision Song Contest. I only liked Mata Hari by Azerbaijan and I hear that the British entry received nil points, it was that bad!

While in Redhill Andy texted me to check if I was okay for meeting in Westerham Sunday morning. I said I was because I thought I would be fine and, fortunately, I was fine, although, in the middle of the night I did wake up, not with toothache, more anxiety about toothache, and started to wonder if an 'abort' text was necessary. It wasn't. I eventually rose from bed around 0600hrs, made breakfast as usual and then headed for Westerham around 0800hrs, arriving just after 0900hrs. Andy was there already and it was his shout for the tea and cake (well, almond croissant). We sat there watching the arrival of many Harleys, some of them carrying Hell's Angels from Surrey, they all seemed like nice guys, but I did feel a little inadequate with my mountain bike and 'Wild Man' cross bar bag. It takes all sorts. We chatted about Andy's organised ride the previous week, on his mountain bike, and how the rain made it all a little unpleasant. When a pal pulled out because of a brake failure, Andy (quite rightly in my opinion) followed suit after covering 22 miles of a 40-mile plus ride.

It was time to head home, always a bad moment, that thought of riding up the hill towards the Botley, but as always we manage it and after riding through Woldingham we parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road. Until the next time (in a fortnight's time as Andy's heading for Ashford in Kent next week). I'll have to motivate myself next Sunday.

I reached home just in the nick of time. It's been blowing a gale and raining ever since and now as the light fades at 2115hrs, it's still the same. Here's hoping next week will be better.

I have a haircut...and ride 105 miles!

The problem with lockdown (or one of them) has been living with long hair. I haven't had long hair for many years. And let's face it, long hair doesn't suit me. Back in the day, when I was around 19 years old, my hair was shoulder length and a mess. There are people who can have long hair and look good with it. Not me, but then there are people who look good whatever the length of their hair or the state of their clothes. Again, not me. But then I'm one of those people who look just as bad with short hair. My mum loves it when my hair is long, but nobody else does, but then I go for a hair cut and people moan that I look like a criminal. I suppose the answer is not to have a crop, a number three no less, but I like having a crop because it kind of frees me up, it means my hair dries quicker after a shower, it means I don't need a brush or a comb and it makes me feel great. Having a half way house haircut is no good, although you can bet that my critics would love that, a halfway house, a compromise, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a compromise. So I went to the Syrian barber in the high street, he flamed my ears, gave my hair a wash, put some sweet-smelling cologne on my hair and, of course, gave me the much-needed crop. I was amazed to see so much grey hair, that was a little depressing, but I left it on the floor and walked out £15 the poorer but feeling on top of the world.

The haircut was needed, not just because I looked a mess, like the Toecutter from Mad Max (the first movie of the franchise). I was in a fairly dark place thanks to lockdown. Working all day in the conservatory, possibly getting out on the bike in the afternoon, but then returning home, having dinner and watching back-to-back indie movies on Prime, almost as a form of escapism. I've mentioned the movies before, I know, and I won't go on about them now, but perhaps saying 'almost a form of escapism' is ignoring the fact that it was totally a form of escapism. I needed to get away mentally from the mundanity of everything and I sought refuge in movies and, more recently, Detectorists, a fantastic, light comedy written and directed by the great Mackenzie Crook. There are three series and I've been watching them all from start to finish at least three or four times in succession. I can now watch random episodes and enjoy every minute, I feel like I know the characters personally and the environment in which the story of Andy and Lance, two detectorists, plays out. I can't begin to tell you how much Detectorists means to me, it's only rival for my affections is Mike Carter's One Man and His Bike, a book I often reach for when feeling down as just a random paragraph brings me out of the darkest mood. I don't really have 'dark' moods, I might get a little down, but that's about it. So now I'm thinking of when I find myself on Desert Island Discs and that bit where they offer the castaway his or her own luxury. Well, I'd have Mike Carter's book and a box set of the three series of Detectorists. 

I had a good week on the bike. It started on 9 May with Andy. We met in Westerham and enjoyed croissants and cake with our hot chocolate and tea (I had the latter, Andy the former). That ride added up to 22.97 miles and was followed up on Tuesday 11 May with a ride to Tatsfield, the long way, via Beddlestead Lane, a pleasant ride that found me riding back through Woldingham and then down and up Slines Oak Road. After that I did three Washpond Weebles bringing my total to 81.29 miles by Friday, with one day to go before the end of my cycling week, a vast improvement on last week's 65.64 miles. Today is Saturday 15 May and I had resigned myself to not riding at all, bearing in mind that bad weather has been on the cards and it's raining as I write this; in fact, I'm more than happy with my 81.29 miles and don't really need to go out today. That said, it looks as if it's brightening up and I do so want to put in over 100 miles so I think I will hit the road. 

And so I did hit the road. A couple hours have passed since the full stop before last and I have riden all the way to Westerham, the slow way, and back via Woldingham, a total, this time, of 24.60 miles. I say 'this time' because Strava seems to vary from ride-to-ride, I've done the same ride and it's been 25.05 miles, so God knows what is going on there. It was a wonderful ride, albeit a cloudy one that threatened rain constantly, but nothing came. I even sat on the green at Westerham under an umbrella, outside of the Tudor Rose Tearooms, where I had purchased a large English breakfast tea and a huge chunk of coffee and walnut cake. I sat there with some old people: a woman who had travelled by bus from Beckenham to see her grandchildren for the first time in God knows how long, and an elderly couple with their daughter who had purchased some framed prints of birds. It might not have been their daughter but I figured it was. The man moaned (jokingly) about them creating work for him later and we all had a fairly jolly time of it until it was time to go. I put my empty paper cup and plate in a waste bin, bade farewell to the old lady waiting for her grandchildren (the man, his wife and their daughter had departed a few minutes earlier) and soon I was on the bike riding towards the hill. After a week on the bike it was easy and soon I was approaching Woldingham. It started to rain and it was enough to get me wet (I'm still a little damp as I write this, but don't tell anybody). The rain stopped when I reached the top of Slines Oak Road, which was also comparatively easy thanks to this week's riding.

Here, then, is my riding record for the past few weeks. The date marks the last day of my cycling week, a Saturday and, therefore, the mileage reflects the cycling of the previous six days. My cycling week starts on a Sunday.

20 March 2021 = 72.01 miles

27 March 2021 = 43.39 miles

3 April 2021 = 81.00 miles

10 April 2021 = 22 miles

17 April 2021 = 68.20 miles

24 April 2021 = 83.15 miles

1 May 2021 = 60.18 miles

8 May 2021 = 65.64 miles

15 May 2021 = 105.89 miles

What I am slightly annoyed about is that I am not recording any of my rides with photography. This is because my iphone needs to be replaced and I've been meaning to upgrade myself for weeks now, but simply haven't got round to it. The problem is that my iphone cannot cope with doing anything else other than one job at a time, so when Strava is on, for example, I can't take a photograph. This sorry situation will be rectified very soon.

How many breakfasts?

On Sunday I rode to Westerham and when I got there I bought a large paper mug of tea and an almond croissant from Costa Coffee. I sat on the Green people watching and scoffing and then I got up and rode home. Earlier, if Andy is to be believed, I enjoyed three breakfasts. Not one, three. Now I would rather suggest that I had one big breakfast consisting of a bowl of Alpen with grapes, blueberries and sliced banana, a boiled egg and fingers, bread and marmalade and an orange cut into chunks. Andy thinks that the bowl of Alpen and a cup of tea would be one breakfast (and, indeed, it used to be for me); and that another breakfast would be the boiled egg and fingers. He would also suggest that I could (and should) pass on the bread and marmalade and he would be right. My take on all this is that my food intake has increased. There was a time, not long ago, when I did make do with a cup of tea and a bowl of Alpen and only occasionally having the boiled egg and fingers. There was a time when I gave up marmalade because of the sugar, I stopped, for a very very long time and, as a result, haven't had any fillings for some time. There was a time when I cut back on cakes and stopped eating them, but right now, for whatever reason, they've all decided to come back en masse. Alright, let's talk cake for a little while. I've always been partial to a slice of fruit cake, mainly round at mum's on a Sunday afternoon, but since lockdown that's been impossible. But hold on, I've also been partial to large chunks of coffee and walnut cake, mainly at National Trust cafes on a Sunday afternoon, and if I'm down on the South Coast, well, there's always the Lobster Pot where I might indulge my passion for buttered toasted teacakes. But Andy's right in a sense: I am eating a lot in the mornings before a ride and I suppose it could be argued that I'll burn it all off on the ride, but the fact remains that I'm eating more than I used to; even today I was handed another great passion of mine, a Waitrose cappuccino mousse, something I never knew existed this time last year. Fortunately, I cycle regularly (see last post for table of weekly mileages).

Longford Lake the last time I was there...

Why, you might ask, am I discussing all this? Well, it's simple really. Today, Bank Holiday Monday, 3rd May 2021, I cycled to the lakes, the best part of a 29-mile ride. We rarely visit the lakes together, Andy and I, in fact we normally go there alone. The last time I was there was during the first lockdown and I'm sure Andy's been there alone too; but today we agreed to meet there. I left the house around 0700hrs and I got there around 0810hrs and sat on a bench looking out across the lake. Is it Longford Lake or is it Chipstead Lake or Chevening Lake? I don't know. I think it's Longford Lake. But that's not the point. I reached the lake about 20 minutes before Andy did and sat there watching a man exercising with a personal trainer. There was a mat on the ground where he did various things, including 'the plank' and squat thrusts and there was a large black rope, which he later picked up and did various exhausting exercises. And what about the two bright yellow dumbells? He clasped one in each hand and pretended to box with them, apparently for one whole minute. The female personal trainer was clearly fit, unlike the man who had a protruding gut and was sweating profusely. I even wondered whether he might keel over, but he didn't, which was good. 

When Andy turned up around 0830hrs we both sat watching the spectacle of the man being basically bossed around by a woman in brightly-coloured and tight-fitting leggings. He was certainly getting his money's worth, we both thought, and eventually they both packed up and left, leaving Andy and I chatting about health and fitness; and this was when we got round to discussing my many breakfasts. I might have a try and not eating such a big breakfast, perhaps forgoing the marmalade or alternating between a boiled egg and fingers and the marmalade sandwich. You see, it's all about bread intake and mine has gone through the roof. I used to limit myself to three slices per day, which is roughly what my mammoth breakfasts allow: one slice for the fingers, two slices for the marmalade. But the problem is later in the day when I fancy another marmalade sandwich. I've even been known to have another bowl of Alpen, so things are getting out of hand and need to be reined in. Andy doesn't have a problem with the almond croissant on the green or the slice of coffee and walnut cake on the ride. Why? Because you burn off the calories, that's why.

It was time to head back home and as we made our way to the road a cavalcade rushed past, led by a police motorcyle outrider, followed by a huge, black Range Rover and another car and then more police motorcycles. Up the road is Chevening, which I think is the country retreat of the Foreign Secretary, so I'm guessing that Dominic Raab was on his way to Chevening House (if that's what it's called) for some peace and relaxation. Although it might not have been Raab, it might have been US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken who Raab was meeting yesterday. Perhaps he was being whisked from the airport to Chevening House to meet with Mr Raab. The motorcycle outrider leading the cavalcade was riding very fast for a small and sleepy village and I couldn't help but think: not another American involved in a fatal car crash on UK soil claiming diplomatic immunity. Well, all was fine and by the time we reached the end of the road there was just a solitary police car waiting there. 

Just a brief word about Pilgrim's Lane: it's wonderful on a pleasant day and a joy to ride along. Andy and I stuck together until we made the turn on to Sundridge Lane from Ovenden Road and then Andy decided to put his foot down, so to speak. He is now much fitter than I am, he's lost a load of weight and he rides a racing bike so I bade him farewell and continued on my merry way. Pilgrim's Lane is long and almost completely straight and this meant that I could see Andy's flourescent jacket far away in the distance until he eventually turned a corner and was gone. 

I reached home around 1045hrs and I was pretty tired. A cup of tea did the trick and then I found myself mowing the front and back lawns after which I made some pasta for myself as I was the only one in the house; but then, ironically considering what I was discussing earlier, I ended up having two lunches. A large tray of macaroni pie that I had made yesterday was being heated up and I wasn't going to miss out. I ate quite a lot if the truth be told and now, at 1914hrs I'm not in the slightest bit hungry, so that's a result. Today, then, if Andy's theory is right, I had something like three breakfasts and two lunches, but then I did ride the best part of 29 miles this morning and yesterday I rode 25 miles so I'm not doing too badly.

Last week was good, this week not so good...

Saturday morning was fantastic. Hardly a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining and it was warm as I headed out en route to Westerham to complete a good week of riding for yours truly. It was gone 1000hrs and I was running a little late, but the day was lazy enough to warrant a late start and I was looking forward to finishing the week. It was easily going to be around 80 miles, I thought, as I added up the week's mileage in my head. I decided that I'd ride 'the slow way' to Westerham, which means via Beddlestead Lane, and then the plan was to come back via Woldingham so I was hoping for a ride of over 23 miles and I wasn't to be disappointed. In the end it was 25.05 miles, perfect, bringing my total to over 83 miles for the week, not bad going.

Generally speaking my weekly mileage has varied, here's a look at the past six weeks:

20 March 2021 = 72.01 miles.

27 March 2021 = 43.39 miles.

3 April 2021 = 81.00 miles.

10 April 2021 = 22 miles.

17 April 2021 = 68.20 miles.

24 April 2021 = 83.15 miles.

1 May 2021 = 60.18 mles

I'm trying to keep every week above 70 miles so there's a few dud weeks, but I'm pretty happy with what I've achieved.

When I reached Westerham I went into Costa Coffee and ordered a large tea and an almond croissant and then sat on the green people watching. With the sun shining the landlord of the Grasshopper was getting the chairs and tables ready for a busy day as I contemplated nothing in particular apart from the ride home, which I never look forward to because it's all uphill.

On Sunday the weather changed. It was colder. There was a nasty cool breeze and I wished upon wish that I hadn't bothered so much about my appearance. I was going to hit the road in my thick jumper and rust-coloured, ripped jacket but my excessively long hair prompted me to wear something a little neater and the end result was that I nearly froze, it was that cold. I met Andy, who was there before me this week (normally I leave early and get there around 0845hrs, but I was running late, not because I got up late but because I had a late night and felt terribly weary as a result. I felt as if I was riding at a snail's pace and, as I said to Andy later, had it meant an 0700hrs start I probably would have aborted. I'm glad it wasn't and that I didn't (abort). We sat surrounded by the rubbish left by revellers on Saturday night and soon it was time to head home. I struggled for a while but as we approached the Botley Hill roundabout I seemed to revive. I was going to ride down the 269 but decided instead to ride through Woldingham, giving me a respectable 23 miles on Strava instead of the rather pathetic 21.93 miles that would have been my total had I riden the main road. And who wants to ride the 269? Not me. Something that really annoys me is the abuse cyclists get from motorists, normally builders in vans wearing paint-spattered tracksuit bottoms and twatty Timberland boots. "Use the fucking cycle lane!" they shout as they drive by too closely. "Fuck off you overweight, ignorant cunts," I wish I had said, but they wouldn't have heard me anyway so I mumble something under my breath and continue riding. Last week I managed three Washpond Weebles and two Westerhams and it was on the former that I received the abuse. It's got a lot to do with riding around 5pm, the rush hour, when cunty builders and other van drivers who support Boris Johnson and Brexit are rushing home to watch the One Show or Pointless or something rubbish, accompanied by a can of Stella and something unhealthy to eat. They think that because they stand up all day drinking PG Tips and taking a dump in a Portaloo in somebody's front garden that they don't need any exercise. Anyway, enough said. It was a great week of riding and now I've got to do it all again. I write this on Tuesday 27 April morning. Earlier, when I mentioned how last week I managed three Washpond Weebles, that was the week that ended (for the purpose of my cycling) on Saturday 24 April. The sun is shining but it might be cold out, who knows? It was cold, but not bad enough to stop me riding on Wednesday 28th April, yesterday, and yes, I did a Washpond Weeble. To be able to equal last week's mileage I've got to ride another two Weebles and then ride to Westerham on Saturday, let's see. Andy texted to say he wouldn't be riding on Sunday, so it looks like I'll be riding alone.

So, it's Thursday 29 April and once again the sun is shining, but it might be cold. The weather isn't as good as last year at this time but I must get out there later today.

And now it's May Day, the 1st May, the sun is shining and I will get out there, shortly. Not a brilliant week on the cycling front and today is the last day of my cycling week. In fact, my weekly total is 60.18 miles. 

Yet more ramblings...

There used to be so much to discuss. People had things to say. But these days, whenever I call somebody – normally mum, but it could be anybody – the answer to the question 'what have you been doing?' is often met with a nervous laugh followed by the words, 'not much really'. When you're not at the office (as most people haven't been for just over a year) and you're stuck at home, the most you can say is that you have taken a walk around the block or gone shopping. Nobody has travelled anywhere, it's not allowed. Holidays have yet to really kick off and it looks as if we'll all be so-called 'staycations' this year, nice for some, but others will be yearning for their annual foreign holiday.

Bigger breakfasts are the new thing

On Saturday morning, sitting as I was on a table on the green at Westerham, talking to a fellow cyclist who, it turns out, had only riden his bike from Limpsfield, so I'm guessing he rode along the A25, we chatted along the lines of the above: that we'd both been working from home, that we hadn't really done a great deal and so on. As always I mentioned cycling and how it has kept me sane over the past year and then we chatted briefly about haircuts. I explained that I was wearing a bright orange beanie hat because my hair was now so long it was looking, well, unkempt and horrible. I resemble The Toecutter from the very first Mad Max movie, but didn't mention this incase my new temporary companion had no idea of what I was talking about.

Now that non-essential shops are allowed to open there's more of a buzz down on Westerham Green. In fact there's a fair amount of stuff going on; first there's the regular gaggle of bearded old men on their Harleys, chatting away outside Costa Coffee, then there's the cyclists, sitting on the green in their Lycra chatting about nothing in particular and sipping their cappuccinos, and let's not forget those working in the pub (in this case the Grasshopper) who are busy setting up tables for the day. It's all very pleasant, the sun is out and it's perfect for sitting outside with a beer. Occasionally a Harley might roar past or a quad bike or some kind of vintage car and it's nice to sit and watch it all happen. 

Westerham has become my default ride. It's a good distance (roughly 22 miles) and it's not too bad. I've taken to riding along Pilgrims Lane and then turning right at the VeloBarn and heading into town. For some reason I prefer it, don't ask me why. I pass the VeloBarn with no intention of stopping mainly because you have to engage with the track and trace system and that's the last thing I want to do. Why? Because sod's law will dictate that if I've signed up for it there will be a phone call and I'll be required to self-isolate for a fortnight. At Costa in Westerham, as long as you're not using their chairs you don't need to register, which is great.

This past week I've managed to ride something like 68 miles, which is a darn sight better than my paltry 22 miles last week. Sometimes after a day at work, the last thing I want to do is jump on the bike and ride to Westerham. Especially, as it turns out, on a Monday. I'm tired by the end of my working day and I'd much rather do something a little less energetic, like drive to IKEA or Boots and then come back home again and watch television or read. I need to get my act together on reading. Over the past week I haven't looked at a book, which isn't good, so hopefully tonight (tonight being Monday night) I'll get back in the swing of things. Movies are my thing at the moment. Last night I watched an amazing movie entitled Blue Ruin on Netflix and who knows what's in store for me tonight? For some reason I've got a little bored of Prime. I've been writing a story of my own but have reached a point where I can't decide what I want to happen, although one idea has stuck with me over the past 12 hours and I'll consider it in a little more depth when I'm next on one of my walks around the block.

My cycling week started yesterday (Sunday) with another ride to Westerham. Andy texted me to ask if I was getting bored with riding to Westerham and to be honest, I'm not. I think what I probably meant was I didn't want to revert to Tatsfield village, which is a shorter distance, as my thing now is to get the miles under my belt, so rather than ride, say 10 miles or 15 miles, if I get 22 miles under my belt it means less 'rides' per week to achieve my level of acceptability, in mileage terms, which is 60 miles at the low end and between 80 and 90 miles at the top end of the scale. I suppose what I'm saying is I'd rather cycle to Westerham three times a week than cycle 10 miles every day of the week. Perhaps it's a form of laziness? But then the problem with Westerham is that sometimes, like today, the very thought of riding all that way and back gives me a nagging headache. Perhaps not a headache, but it certainly brings on a level of fatigue that will stop me doing anything. I've already decided not to ride today and instead go to IKEA, which I still haven't done as we're waiting for people to turn up and do things in the house, like measure up a room for carpets. Once they've been then we'll probably jump in the car and head for the Swedish flat pack furniture showroom. We're not buying anything, just taking something back.

I should really be writing this in my back garden, but I reckon it's colder than it looks out there and I'd have to put on a woolly jumper in order to remain comfortable.

Time flying past is something that bothers me...

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

Time flying past is something that bothers me. Google Photos annoys me in this respect as they keep coming up with summaries of my life, like what I was doing in 2014, which I still think of as 'not that long ago' but it's seven years ago and when I see the images I realise that I've aged and so have those photographed with me, all a little frightening one way of the other.

By not going riding today I am in a sense making a rod for my own back. Five miles done today are five miles I wouldn't have to do tomorrow, but now I guess you could say I'm down five, meaning that, to catch up, I'll have to ride 10 miles tomorrow. And this is how fretful life becomes. I used to be like this with swimming and on some occasions would be faced with having to swim a mile in order to make up for swims I postponed. In the end I'd have to admit to myself that I slacked badly and that was that. 

Something else that I might have touched on before is that old habits are creeping back, like eating too much bread. Pre-lockdown I limited myself to three slices a day but now it's much more. Today, for example, I had three slices of bread for breakfast: one with my boiled egg and two for bread and marmalade. Then I had a cheese sandwich for lunch, bringing the total to six slices and, as I write this, I've just made myself some more bread and marmalade, so that's eight slices. Marmalade is also back on the agenda and has to stop. I've been indulging myself with 'big breakfasts' – a bowl of Alpen with fresh fruit, an orange cut into manageable chunks, two slices of bread and marmalade, a boiled egg with fingers and, of course, a cup of tea. Pre-lockdown it was little more than a bowl of cereal or porridge and a cup of tea. This has to stop, but not until that jar of marmalade is finished as there's nothing better than stem ginger marmalade from Waitrose. It's another reason why cycling is important and must be kept up.

A few thoughts on the past week...

I've slowed down on writing for this blog and put it down to writing 'other stuff'. With lockdown it's fair to say that nothing much has happened. I've been working from home for most of the day, I throw in a walk at lunch time and then after work, which is around 1630hrs, I might go for a ride on the bike. The week before last I managed 81 miles. This past week just 22 miles, but that was deliberate. For some reason I was tired and thought I'd give it a miss, which I did. I should have gone out on Saturday, to Westerham, but instead I slobbed around and didn't ride again until Sunday when I met Andy in the Northern Kent market town. Our habits are changing. For a start, we only meet once a week, on a Sunday, but we also meet at our destination rather than at Warlingham Green and now there's a new habit: not bringing tea along on the ride. For the past God knows how long I've been humping a huge Stanley flask of hot water all the way to wherever we're going, but over the past few weeks that flask is now staying in the house. Instead, a large English breakfast tea and an almond croissant and a cappuccino and almond croissant for Andy.

But nothing else has changed. Our conversations are still in good shape. In the past fortnight we've discussed Harley Davidson motorcycles, mainly because a whole bunch of them turn up and park outside the Costa. Andy doesn't like them. I do like them. Andy says they're old man's bikes. They are. Harley riders invariably have grey hair and beards or no hair and beards and they all wear the uniform, trying to look like hard men and that's where the problem arises. They're not in America and that, of course, is the issue. You have to be in America to ride a Harley in my opinion. Over here they look out of place. Andy's other gripe is that technologically they're pretty much old hat and they're heavy and, he says, the engine and gear box are separate. Andy says they've missed a trick and that their demographic is old blokes, they're not appealing to younger riders. Andy says he'd get a Royal Enfield if he did buy a bike again. Me? I like the Harley, I'm afraid. I'd probably spend more time polishing it than riding it, but I'd have an 883 Hugger with buckhorn bars. I like 'the traditional Harley rumble' and that's really it: I want to make a lot of noise on a highly polished motorcycle.

Not quite finished, I still had a lot of raking to do and the edges

Last Sunday we discussed something a little more boring: social media, well, Linkedin specifically and who knows what we'll be discussing this coming Sunday, which is still a way off (I'm writing this on Tuesday 13 April). Yesterday I went back to the office for the day, working from 0800hrs to 1700hrs with a half hour lunch break. Today I'm back home again and will be for the next fortnight and then I return to the office for a day and things will go on like that until the lockdown eases completely. It was good to be back in the office and I managed to get a fair bit of work done, which was good and when I left I felt good, which was something.

I'm still watching movies on Prime every night, sometimes two movies a night. It's an escapism thing. I'm trying to escape the monotony of everything, which is hard. I'm largely watching indie movies, American indie movies, but I've also watched a few mainstream movies too, like The Intern with Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway and Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. It all amounts to the same thing: escapism. I sit there with my camomile tea and then hit the sack some time between 2300hrs and 2330hrs.

Our blossom tree is in bloom...

Weatherwise, things are improving. We're now operating on British Summer Time, there are blossoms on the trees and the weather is warming up, although, having said that, as I drove to work yesterday (12 April 2021) there were blizzard conditions. It snowed hard for most of the morning and stopped by lunch time. On Sunday (11 April) I managed to mow my rear lawn and managed to get it all done before the snow hit, which was good going. It's trimmed and so are 'the edges' and it's looking good. Mowing the lawn will be a major part of my life now until October. I don't mind doing it if the weather's pleasant, but we'll need a new mower one of these days.

And hopefully cycling will also start to pick up a little. The bike is fine and I've been enjoying the rides both with Andy on Sundays and alone midweek. The VeloBarn has reopened but apparently you have to log on with the test and trace app and all that mularkey so I'm avoiding it and sticking with Costa or the Tudor Rose in Westerham, the latter open for takeaways on a Saturday morning.

Not much else to report at the moment.