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| Nearing the end of Beddlestead Lane. |
We ride our trusty bicycles most weekends. This blog charts our adventures and records our thoughts as we ride through the rural lanes of Surrey and Northern Kent – and there's some world travel thrown in too
Wednesday, 11 December 2013
Brussels and a dodgy hotel turns out to be really good...
Now I know what the flight simulator on my new iphone is good for: whenever I'm dining alone, which is often, I can get it out and have a fly around. This evening, sitting alone in the restaurant of the Ramada Brussels (there were only four other diners throughout while I sat there) I took a World War ll Spitfire for a spin. Alright, I could have read a book or a magazine, but I was tired and I needed some kind of recreation, so a Duvel and a short-lived flight in an old World War ll fighter plane seemed like a good idea.
The last time I was in Brussels was around 2004 when I was here to find restaurants that matched beer with food (I found two) and now, nine years later here I am again. I took the Eurostar from St Pancras (the 1504 train to Lille (a great place) and Brussels Midi, and the first thing that irritated me was the fact that virtually all the way to the tunnel itself, the train was constantly in tunnels, which made chatting to anybody on the mobile phone a bit of a nightmare. I kept losing the signal, then re-dialling, then losing the signal, then reidailling and...you get the picture.
So I'm motoring towards Brussels in seat 16 (an aisle seat) but, fortunately, nobody claimed seat 15, so I made the most of it, spreading myself across both seats, using the laptop and doing a bit of work without having to worry anybody else, which suited me fine.
Why was I on the mobile phone? I'm going to need a new car as the oil seal – and possibly the gear box – has gone on the old Kia, which means another hefty bill and more debt. I wouldn't mind, but I'd just had a little windfall (nothing major) but it made a fair old dent in a credit card debt and now, here I am, about to get into even more debt in order to buy another car. First some idiot went up the backside of my Beamer, writing off a perfectly decent car and putting me in debt, and now the old Kia's given up the ghost and I've got to shell out extra cash that I don't have to buy a new car. I can't say I'm happy about it.
Anyway, the Eurostar. Not sure if I like the Eurostar. It's not exactly the Orient Express or the Scotsman and there are so many carriages – crammed with seats – that I never know which way to head for the buffet car. Not that it mattered, as I didn't bother. I'm trying to lose a bit of weight. Instead, I worked throughout the journey, alighting at a decidedly drab-looking Brussels and remembering how, the last time I was here, I thought it looked remarkably like Streatham (around the station area). It's a load of concrete and office blocks and, alright, it's the hub of the European Union too.
I found a cab that drove me to what must be (I thought initially) the worst hotel I've ever stayed in, although it redeemed itself considerably when it came to the restaurant. Why did I consider it the worst? Well, to be honest, now that I'm going through the blogpost I initially penned last night, while tired and irritable, I began to realise that it wasn't such a bad hotel after all and that a lot of the problems I had with the place yesterday were relatively minor. And besides, I was feeling a little miffed about the car situation, so perhaps I was being a little unfair. Having said that, things did happen when I went to check in. For a start, they didn't have my reservation, and it was their fault, not my travel company's. Then they put me in s huge room, room 324 with three single beds in it, two of which were pushed together to make a double.
I don't like huge rooms with loads of space. For some reason I can't get a good night's sleep. I started off the night in the two single beds pulled together to make one double and after a while the air-con system started to annoy me. It was a little on the noisy side and it was too warm and I was too tired to get up and figure out how to turn it off. So, when I awoke at 0137hrs, I decided to move to the single bed on the other side of the room and there I slept until the alarm went off at 0630hrs.
The hotel is very black and while in terms of decor and while this was fine, it reminded me of a packet of Lambert & Butler cigarettes. I had a separate bathroom and toilet, a double aspect view (onto crappy old office buildings, flats and a dual carriageway) and a rubbish television set that simply didn't work (and there I was hoping to watch the 'I'm a Celebrity' coming out party. Sadly not, unless I could get it working. Remember, I'm an hour ahead of the UK, so there was a chance. But I didn't bother. I simply went to bed.
With such a bad first impression of the hotel I asked the man on the front desk what was happening 'outside of the hotel' – meaning restaurants – and he said that there was nothing. The hotel, which, incidentally, is the Ramada Brussels, is located in a kind of business/residential area.It's a EUR25 taxi journey away from Brussels Midi. Yesterday, while initially writing this post, I warned readers away from the Ramada, saying it was a lairy place and that I didn't like it, but now, in the cold light of day, changed my mind. It was only a short journey from my appointment so once all the business was out of the way, I walked back to pick up my suitcase before heading into the centre of Brussels. But the friendly Japanese receptionist made me reconsider my general bad attitude towards the place and soon I found myself resolving to stay for lunch, given the amount of time I needed to kill before jumping on a homeward bound service at 1856. And once again, the hotel delivered and I forgave them many things, like the shower, which I had so much difficulty trying to work that I opted for a bath instead, and the plug in the sink which simply wouldn't close no matter what I did.
Last night's meal was fine, although it was initially touch and go. From the reception area I found the restaurant easy to reach as it was just at the top of a flight of stairs. Trying to reach it from another angle was problematic. The hotel reception has two long corridors running off of it and at the end of each corridor are the lifts. This in itself is odd as normally the lifts are close to the reception area – but not here. I tried to find the restaurant by taking the lift from my room on the third floor to the first floor, but gave up as there were no signs. It was best to go to reception and take it from there. At the top of the stairs, the first thing I encountered was the bar, which was nice enough, and beyond it what looked like some kind of Japanese noodle bar. This was reserved for a large party of Japanese, the real breakfast room was, in fact, the restaurant proper. I walked through to the restaurant and I spied polished wine glasses and tablecloths, not forgetting a decent-looking menu.
I ordered the specials – wild mushrooms to start and pheasant as mains – both of which were fine, accompanied as they were by some bread and, of course, a glass of Duvel (I had two) and not forgetting an excellent fresh fruit salad to finish.
This was going to be a fleeting visit. Here today, back tomorrow night, and I gained an hour in the process, which was all good.
For dinner I chose wild mushrooms, which, while fine – they were fried mushrooms – lacked any discernible wildness. I could have made them myself as it appeared to be just a handful of wild mushrooms fried in oil. The pheasant, however, was amazing (check out the pic) and the fresh fruit salad was just what the doctor ordered.
It's too dark and too cold to go out looking for 'Boris Bikes'. There are 'Boris Bikes' here as I saw a docking station the following morning as I walked back from my appointment to the hotel where I had left one of my bags. The problem is twofold, however: first, the weather (it's a bit nippy); and second the traffic (similar to London) so I didn't bother. As I approached the hotel reception area at the end of my brief walk from the nearby Rue Colonel Bourg (venue of my earlier appointment) I noticed they were advertising the restaurant and thought it would be a good idea to hang around the hotel for lunch before heading into the centre of town later this afternoon (remember, I've got time to kill until 7pm before I take the Eurostar back to London). Solution: have lunch at the hotel. And it was a good decision. Mushroom soup (probably yesterday's leftovers from those wild mushooms on offer) followed by a whole sole with vegetables) and not forgetting a Duvel (just one this time) and another of those wonderful fresh fruit salads.
Once again I was the only one in the restaurant, but that didn't matter. I took out the flight simulator again and amused myself until the menu arrived, although, in all honesty, flight simulators are very boring and soon enough I got bored. Then I chose the above and awaited their arrival. It was a very enjoyable meal and while in an early version of this very post I advised people not to bother staying at the Ramada, I've now completely revised my opinion, although it's a little out on a limb, ie nowhere near the city centre. Having said that, it was just down the road from my appointment, which was the main reason for coming here in the first place.
One thing I must mention is something that always bugs me with hotels that try too hard to be trendy. They never follow the golden rule of 'function before form', meaning that they have taps and bathroom fitments designed and installed that simply don't work – or rather prove alien to anybody who tries to use them – and I fell victim prior to breakfast. I wanted a shower, but never got one as I couldn't work out how to turn the shower on. In the end I ran a bath. Likewise, I couldn't figure out how to close the plug on the basin and had to resort to a continually running tap as I shaved (what a waste of water).
So, a shower I can't work, a plug I can't work, a television I can't work, a telephone that won't work properly, the lack of a reservation when I arrived last night and a room that was huge, you might think it all added up to a bad stay – and intially it did – but to be honest with you, when I returned in the afternoon, I thought otherwise – thanks to a friendly receptionist and a decent lunch. I'm not planning on eating more than a sandwich later on (I had an egg and cress sandwich and a bottle of Pellegrino on the train).
How could I have forgotten the Grand Place? If ever you're in Brussels, make sure you visit this great square, surrounded by fantastic architecture and, if you're there at night, a free light show. I remember back in 2004 when my photographer Rob Wilkinson and I were sitting on the Grand Place, sipping a Belgian beer and killing time after dinner before heading back to the hotel, when, suddenly, the square came alive with the most amazing light show and music, sometimes classical, other times more electronic and possibly even a mixture of the two. It's certainly a crowd puller and I couldn't very well go home without seeing it again. Taking the 79 bus from outside the hotel to the Metro I travelled on to Brussels Central Station where I alighted in the dark (it was around 4pm) and made my way to towards the square. People were out Christmas shopping, the shops were alive and illuminated – and so were some of the city's trees (see photo).
The last time I was in Brussels was around 2004 when I was here to find restaurants that matched beer with food (I found two) and now, nine years later here I am again. I took the Eurostar from St Pancras (the 1504 train to Lille (a great place) and Brussels Midi, and the first thing that irritated me was the fact that virtually all the way to the tunnel itself, the train was constantly in tunnels, which made chatting to anybody on the mobile phone a bit of a nightmare. I kept losing the signal, then re-dialling, then losing the signal, then reidailling and...you get the picture.
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| Room 324, Ramada Brussels – initially not impressed. |
Why was I on the mobile phone? I'm going to need a new car as the oil seal – and possibly the gear box – has gone on the old Kia, which means another hefty bill and more debt. I wouldn't mind, but I'd just had a little windfall (nothing major) but it made a fair old dent in a credit card debt and now, here I am, about to get into even more debt in order to buy another car. First some idiot went up the backside of my Beamer, writing off a perfectly decent car and putting me in debt, and now the old Kia's given up the ghost and I've got to shell out extra cash that I don't have to buy a new car. I can't say I'm happy about it.
Anyway, the Eurostar. Not sure if I like the Eurostar. It's not exactly the Orient Express or the Scotsman and there are so many carriages – crammed with seats – that I never know which way to head for the buffet car. Not that it mattered, as I didn't bother. I'm trying to lose a bit of weight. Instead, I worked throughout the journey, alighting at a decidedly drab-looking Brussels and remembering how, the last time I was here, I thought it looked remarkably like Streatham (around the station area). It's a load of concrete and office blocks and, alright, it's the hub of the European Union too.
I found a cab that drove me to what must be (I thought initially) the worst hotel I've ever stayed in, although it redeemed itself considerably when it came to the restaurant. Why did I consider it the worst? Well, to be honest, now that I'm going through the blogpost I initially penned last night, while tired and irritable, I began to realise that it wasn't such a bad hotel after all and that a lot of the problems I had with the place yesterday were relatively minor. And besides, I was feeling a little miffed about the car situation, so perhaps I was being a little unfair. Having said that, things did happen when I went to check in. For a start, they didn't have my reservation, and it was their fault, not my travel company's. Then they put me in s huge room, room 324 with three single beds in it, two of which were pushed together to make a double.
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| Pheasant with potatoes and, I think, pears! Oh, and a glass of Duvel. |
The hotel is very black and while in terms of decor and while this was fine, it reminded me of a packet of Lambert & Butler cigarettes. I had a separate bathroom and toilet, a double aspect view (onto crappy old office buildings, flats and a dual carriageway) and a rubbish television set that simply didn't work (and there I was hoping to watch the 'I'm a Celebrity' coming out party. Sadly not, unless I could get it working. Remember, I'm an hour ahead of the UK, so there was a chance. But I didn't bother. I simply went to bed.
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| Fresh fruit salad – absolutely perfect. |
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| Room 324's dysfunctional bathroom. |
I ordered the specials – wild mushrooms to start and pheasant as mains – both of which were fine, accompanied as they were by some bread and, of course, a glass of Duvel (I had two) and not forgetting an excellent fresh fruit salad to finish.
This was going to be a fleeting visit. Here today, back tomorrow night, and I gained an hour in the process, which was all good.
For dinner I chose wild mushrooms, which, while fine – they were fried mushrooms – lacked any discernible wildness. I could have made them myself as it appeared to be just a handful of wild mushrooms fried in oil. The pheasant, however, was amazing (check out the pic) and the fresh fruit salad was just what the doctor ordered.
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| Electric trees near the Grand Place, Brussels. |
Once again I was the only one in the restaurant, but that didn't matter. I took out the flight simulator again and amused myself until the menu arrived, although, in all honesty, flight simulators are very boring and soon enough I got bored. Then I chose the above and awaited their arrival. It was a very enjoyable meal and while in an early version of this very post I advised people not to bother staying at the Ramada, I've now completely revised my opinion, although it's a little out on a limb, ie nowhere near the city centre. Having said that, it was just down the road from my appointment, which was the main reason for coming here in the first place.
One thing I must mention is something that always bugs me with hotels that try too hard to be trendy. They never follow the golden rule of 'function before form', meaning that they have taps and bathroom fitments designed and installed that simply don't work – or rather prove alien to anybody who tries to use them – and I fell victim prior to breakfast. I wanted a shower, but never got one as I couldn't work out how to turn the shower on. In the end I ran a bath. Likewise, I couldn't figure out how to close the plug on the basin and had to resort to a continually running tap as I shaved (what a waste of water).
So, a shower I can't work, a plug I can't work, a television I can't work, a telephone that won't work properly, the lack of a reservation when I arrived last night and a room that was huge, you might think it all added up to a bad stay – and intially it did – but to be honest with you, when I returned in the afternoon, I thought otherwise – thanks to a friendly receptionist and a decent lunch. I'm not planning on eating more than a sandwich later on (I had an egg and cress sandwich and a bottle of Pellegrino on the train).
How could I have forgotten the Grand Place? If ever you're in Brussels, make sure you visit this great square, surrounded by fantastic architecture and, if you're there at night, a free light show. I remember back in 2004 when my photographer Rob Wilkinson and I were sitting on the Grand Place, sipping a Belgian beer and killing time after dinner before heading back to the hotel, when, suddenly, the square came alive with the most amazing light show and music, sometimes classical, other times more electronic and possibly even a mixture of the two. It's certainly a crowd puller and I couldn't very well go home without seeing it again. Taking the 79 bus from outside the hotel to the Metro I travelled on to Brussels Central Station where I alighted in the dark (it was around 4pm) and made my way to towards the square. People were out Christmas shopping, the shops were alive and illuminated – and so were some of the city's trees (see photo).
Sunday, 8 December 2013
A couple of nice images...
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| Christmas lights, Whitgift Centre, Croydon |
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| Early evening from my office in Redhill, Surrey |
Two rides, two days – to Tatsfield Bus Stop and Tatsfield Village
Once again, I expected cold weather in the form of frosted cars and frozen grass. We'd certainly had some during the week and, for weather nuts, the whole of the Eastern coast of the UK experienced a huge tidal surge, causing coastal houses to fall into the sea and plenty of flooding. You might be forgiven for thinking we were bound, at least, to get a soaking, but on both days it was fairly warm and bright and very clear. We could see the Shard and Canary Wharf all very clearly from a good 20 miles or so away.
On Saturday we headed out to the bus stop and on Sunday we headed for the village. We'd talked about the Churchyard, but figured the benches there would be wet (with dew) so we switched back to our original plan – the village.
Once again, like the week before last, we went the 'slow way' and endured the mildish pain of Beddlestead Lane, trying to 'sectionalise' it in our heads to make it seem shorter, but it didn't work. Today, for example, the place where we stopped to take the photos accompanying this post, was virtually at the end of Beddlestead Lane. We thought it was further back, but it was only yards from Clarks Lane, where we turned left and then left again into Tatsfield village.
Andy brought along a couple of rock cakes, which looked great, but I resisted in order to lose some weight, making do with a cereal bar.
Tatsfield, unlike Warlingham, hasn't gotten round to erecting its Christmas tree yet, which is a bit disappointing.
On both days we made our usual farewells halfway along the 269 and reached our respective homes around 10am.
Andy won't be going next Saturday so I'll need all the will power I can muster to get out of bed and hit the road...unless Phil's there to provide the motivation. Phil's missed the last couple of weekends, but he'll be riding again soon I hope.
In the news
• Nelson Mandela died last week (on 5th December) aged 95.
• It looks as if MPs will be getting an 11% pay rise.
• The two men charged with the murder of Lee Rigby are on trail and are pleading not guilty.
• A huge tidal surge along the eastern coast of England has wreaked havoc. There's been severe flooding and many people were evacuated from their homes, some of which were swept into the sea.
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| Our bikes in the lanes off the B269. Pic by Andy Smith. |
Once again, like the week before last, we went the 'slow way' and endured the mildish pain of Beddlestead Lane, trying to 'sectionalise' it in our heads to make it seem shorter, but it didn't work. Today, for example, the place where we stopped to take the photos accompanying this post, was virtually at the end of Beddlestead Lane. We thought it was further back, but it was only yards from Clarks Lane, where we turned left and then left again into Tatsfield village.
Andy brought along a couple of rock cakes, which looked great, but I resisted in order to lose some weight, making do with a cereal bar.
Tatsfield, unlike Warlingham, hasn't gotten round to erecting its Christmas tree yet, which is a bit disappointing.
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| Nearing the end of Beddlestead Lane. Pic by Andy Smith. |
Andy won't be going next Saturday so I'll need all the will power I can muster to get out of bed and hit the road...unless Phil's there to provide the motivation. Phil's missed the last couple of weekends, but he'll be riding again soon I hope.
In the news
• Nelson Mandela died last week (on 5th December) aged 95.
• It looks as if MPs will be getting an 11% pay rise.
• The two men charged with the murder of Lee Rigby are on trail and are pleading not guilty.
• A huge tidal surge along the eastern coast of England has wreaked havoc. There's been severe flooding and many people were evacuated from their homes, some of which were swept into the sea.
Monday, 2 December 2013
No cycling this weekend...
By that, of course, I mean last weekend (November 30th to December 1st). Andy and Phil couldn't make Saturday and then on Sunday, minutes prior to leaving the house, albeit reluctantly, I received a text from Andy saying he'd had a broken night and wouldn't make it. Fair enough and, as I say, I was quite relieved. But it's not good news. I should have forced myself to go out, even on a short one to Warlingham Green and back, but I didn't. I slobbed around instead and when Andy texted me last night asking if I'd gone out, the answer was a shameful no along with a 'but I'll definitely be there next week'. We'll see.
The weather is closing in, it's getting colder and Christmas is around the corner. Traditionally this is a time of year when the cycling slows down a little, but we should be getting out there and hopefully this week we'll be on the Green at Warlingham and ready to rock.
Westerham has already been suggested for Sunday and we might well be in Tatsfield Village or, indeed, our famous Tatsfield Bus Stop on Saturday morning.
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| This random photograph was taken by yours truly in the Birmingham area. |
Westerham has already been suggested for Sunday and we might well be in Tatsfield Village or, indeed, our famous Tatsfield Bus Stop on Saturday morning.
Saturday, 30 November 2013
Warlingham dead body named...
The dead body found in Audley Drive, Warlingham, is that of Damian Chlywka, a 30-year-old Polish national. Two men have been arrested and bailed.
Audley Drive is very close to our cycle route, only a matter of yards to our left, just off of the Limpsfield Road.
Reports suggest that Mr Chlywka's body showed injuries 'consistent with an assault' according to Sky News.
For further details, click here.
Audley Drive is very close to our cycle route, only a matter of yards to our left, just off of the Limpsfield Road.
Reports suggest that Mr Chlywka's body showed injuries 'consistent with an assault' according to Sky News.
For further details, click here.
Sunday, 24 November 2013
To Tatsfield Village...the slow way
Variety might be the spice of life, but when the cold, damp weather hits we have be a little sensible and it's Tatsfield Village and Tatsfield Bus Stop that offer shelter – meaning we don't have to stand up and drink our tea. Most of our destinations are uncovered, meaning that in the rain we get soaked and in the damp weather we can't sit down. Only Tatsfield offers both the convenience of a decent enough ride AND the comfort provided by a shelter. Alright, Godstone has a building that is covered, but I don't think you can sit down and besides, there's that awful hill on the way back.
So today we headed for Tatsfield Village, the slow way, on the basis that the more familiar we get with Beddlestead Lane the shorter it will become.
We started off discussing cycling in London, which is big news at the moment due to the amount of people being knocked off their bikes by lorries and killed. My view? First, there's a lot of silly cyclists around who take unnecessary risks; second, there's a load of awful drivers around; and three, let's not forget that London is a busy place. Nothing like Montreal where the roads are virtually empty on a Saturday morning. Personally, I wouldn't ride a bike in London, not even a Boris Bike, although I do think it would be good if we could have established cycle lanes like those in Holland and, dare I say it, Milton Keynes. Over here in the UK a cycle lane is basically a line drawn in the road; there's no protection, no segregation from the traffic, nothing. Sort it out, England!
Then it was Doctor Who. I'm not a great fan. Apart from the Weeping Angels (and by that I mean the episode that first featured them) I think it's a bit naff – and it probably always has been. What I find rather irksome is the way the BBC are bigging it up all the time, going on about how scary it is, when it's not scary at all and then over-indulging themselves by over-staying the Doctor Who welcome with Doctor Who Confidential. My problem with Doctor Who is that it's not easy to suspend belief: the alien costumes are not realistic enough, it's all a bit juvenile and yet it's made out to be the best thing since sliced bread. It's not. I wouldn't go as far as saying it was rubbish, because it's not rubbish, it's just a little naff and I can understand why Michael Grade wanted it off the air when he took over at the BBC. Still, people like it. Millions of people like it, all over the world, so perhaps I'll reconsider an article I was writing for this blog along the lines of 'Doctor Who is Rubbish'.
When we got to Tatsfield Village and started to drink our tea, a man arrived in an old Nissan 2.0 that I loved. I can't remember the model; was it a DX? Andy will know. It looked a bit like an old Opel Mantra, but according to Andy it was rear wheel drive, which is rare these days, apparently. Most cars are front wheel drive. I really liked the Nissan, albeit an old N reg motor. Andy said it was good for 'drifting'.
I mentioned to Andy how, try as I might to buy myself a decent motor, I've always ended up with something naff, like a Morris 1300, a Honda Civic, a Cavalier...you get the picture. Oh for the day when I can buy a car that I wouldn't be embarassed about if I found myself on Top Gear. Not that I'll ever be on Top Gear, although you never know. If my novel hits the big time, perhaps? Watch this space. Then again, don't watch this space as it'll never happen.
Phil's sausage sandwiches of a couple of weeks ago were brought up by Andy – not literally – both yesterday and today. The general feeling was that his efforts were way beyond the call of duty. We both compared our morning routine prior to getting on the bikes with Phil's: putting on the grill, arranging the sausages, grilling them, cutting them in half, placing them in the bread and then individually wrapping them in silver foil after adding tomato ketchup. Nice work, Phil, if you're reading this; once again, respect is due.
We were thinking about Phil's fine sandwiches as a fine rain began to fall. Nothing too unpleasant. We both watched from the safety of the bus stop, but then realised that we'd have to head off sooner or later. The rain was so fine that it was almost non-existent as we rode towards Clarks Lane, turning right and heading for Botley and then the point where I wave farewell to Andy halfway along the 269. He's not going to make next Saturday, but Phil and I will probably go...or I might use the opportunity for a lie in, who knows?
The weather was fairly warm again and this time I didn't wear any gloves (unlike yesterday) and it wasn't that unpleasant, although, if I'm honest, I'd have been a little more comfortable if I had been wearing them.
It was a good leisurely ride and typical NoVisibleLycra weather. We saw a few Lycra monkeys en route, as always, especially going up Beddlestead Lane – we hear them first, chatting about stuff, probably pensions and financial planning. It seems as if the slow way, avoiding the B269, is now our preferred route as it provides us with a suitable work-out on a traditionally shorter ride. Taking the slower roads is by far the best option: we can hear traffic coming for miles and while the roads are empty we can ride side-by-side, chatting about this and that.
I reached home at just gone 10am, enjoyed a hot cross bun and a cup of tea and then had a most welcomed hot shower. Nothing could be better after a decent ride.
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| Andy and Matt, Tatsfield Village, Sunday 24 November 2013 |
So today we headed for Tatsfield Village, the slow way, on the basis that the more familiar we get with Beddlestead Lane the shorter it will become.
We started off discussing cycling in London, which is big news at the moment due to the amount of people being knocked off their bikes by lorries and killed. My view? First, there's a lot of silly cyclists around who take unnecessary risks; second, there's a load of awful drivers around; and three, let's not forget that London is a busy place. Nothing like Montreal where the roads are virtually empty on a Saturday morning. Personally, I wouldn't ride a bike in London, not even a Boris Bike, although I do think it would be good if we could have established cycle lanes like those in Holland and, dare I say it, Milton Keynes. Over here in the UK a cycle lane is basically a line drawn in the road; there's no protection, no segregation from the traffic, nothing. Sort it out, England!
Then it was Doctor Who. I'm not a great fan. Apart from the Weeping Angels (and by that I mean the episode that first featured them) I think it's a bit naff – and it probably always has been. What I find rather irksome is the way the BBC are bigging it up all the time, going on about how scary it is, when it's not scary at all and then over-indulging themselves by over-staying the Doctor Who welcome with Doctor Who Confidential. My problem with Doctor Who is that it's not easy to suspend belief: the alien costumes are not realistic enough, it's all a bit juvenile and yet it's made out to be the best thing since sliced bread. It's not. I wouldn't go as far as saying it was rubbish, because it's not rubbish, it's just a little naff and I can understand why Michael Grade wanted it off the air when he took over at the BBC. Still, people like it. Millions of people like it, all over the world, so perhaps I'll reconsider an article I was writing for this blog along the lines of 'Doctor Who is Rubbish'.
When we got to Tatsfield Village and started to drink our tea, a man arrived in an old Nissan 2.0 that I loved. I can't remember the model; was it a DX? Andy will know. It looked a bit like an old Opel Mantra, but according to Andy it was rear wheel drive, which is rare these days, apparently. Most cars are front wheel drive. I really liked the Nissan, albeit an old N reg motor. Andy said it was good for 'drifting'.
I mentioned to Andy how, try as I might to buy myself a decent motor, I've always ended up with something naff, like a Morris 1300, a Honda Civic, a Cavalier...you get the picture. Oh for the day when I can buy a car that I wouldn't be embarassed about if I found myself on Top Gear. Not that I'll ever be on Top Gear, although you never know. If my novel hits the big time, perhaps? Watch this space. Then again, don't watch this space as it'll never happen.
Phil's sausage sandwiches of a couple of weeks ago were brought up by Andy – not literally – both yesterday and today. The general feeling was that his efforts were way beyond the call of duty. We both compared our morning routine prior to getting on the bikes with Phil's: putting on the grill, arranging the sausages, grilling them, cutting them in half, placing them in the bread and then individually wrapping them in silver foil after adding tomato ketchup. Nice work, Phil, if you're reading this; once again, respect is due.
We were thinking about Phil's fine sandwiches as a fine rain began to fall. Nothing too unpleasant. We both watched from the safety of the bus stop, but then realised that we'd have to head off sooner or later. The rain was so fine that it was almost non-existent as we rode towards Clarks Lane, turning right and heading for Botley and then the point where I wave farewell to Andy halfway along the 269. He's not going to make next Saturday, but Phil and I will probably go...or I might use the opportunity for a lie in, who knows?
The weather was fairly warm again and this time I didn't wear any gloves (unlike yesterday) and it wasn't that unpleasant, although, if I'm honest, I'd have been a little more comfortable if I had been wearing them.
It was a good leisurely ride and typical NoVisibleLycra weather. We saw a few Lycra monkeys en route, as always, especially going up Beddlestead Lane – we hear them first, chatting about stuff, probably pensions and financial planning. It seems as if the slow way, avoiding the B269, is now our preferred route as it provides us with a suitable work-out on a traditionally shorter ride. Taking the slower roads is by far the best option: we can hear traffic coming for miles and while the roads are empty we can ride side-by-side, chatting about this and that.
I reached home at just gone 10am, enjoyed a hot cross bun and a cup of tea and then had a most welcomed hot shower. Nothing could be better after a decent ride.
Saturday, 23 November 2013
To the Tatsfield Bus Stop...the slow way
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| Just when we thought we'd exhausted all the angles...an aerial shot! |
I rode off alone to Warlingham Green, turning left into Ellenbridge, bearing left and then turning left on to Southcote Road and then hanging a right and riding up Elmfield Way towards Morley Road and a left turn followed by a right into Church Way.
The streetlights were still on as I climbed towards the church and then crossed into the churchyard and Sanderstead Pond where, for some reason, the ducks were a little more active than usual. Most of the time they are sitting on the bank, heads buried in their necks, but today it was as if there was some kind of regatta going on.
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| The bikes on a misty Beddlestead Lane. Photo credit: Andy Smith. |
Sanderstead High Street's shops were coming to life. I spied a man in the estate agents taking off his suit jacket and making himself comfortable at his desk and then I passed the Shell garage with its illuminated forecourt and then Waitrose, a dim light letting slip that the store had yet to open.
The Limpsfield Road is pretty suburban on both sides all the way to the Green where Andy was waiting. We decided to head for Tatsfield Village again, the slow way, but when we turned left on to Clarks Lane after a gruelling ride up Beddlestead Lane, we opted instead for the bus stop where we did what we always do: eat cereal bars and drink tea.
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| Why so many padlocks when you could easily climb over? |
While most of the time there was no cold weather – not really cold at any rate – there were times when we realised winter was coming. Any downhill stretch brought the cold and I noticed it later on as I rode down Church Way.
The weathermen had predicted that Saturday would be better than Sunday, but here's hoping there won't be a frost or rain tomorrow. With the weather getting colder and damper we opt for covered bus stops to avoid damp seats, which in turn means our options are more limited. There's Tatsfield Village and, of course, the bus stop, but I'd have to wrack my brains to think of other destinations that offer us cover and a dry place to park ourselves.
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| Atom Heart Mother? Cows grazing near Botley Hill. |
Update on the Warlingham dead body...
More news on the body found in a well in a house in Warlingham, Surrey: it's been in the well (or wherever it was they found it) for two years and there is a suggestion, by some, that the killing had something to do with rival car wash businesses.
Monday, 18 November 2013
To Tatsfield Village...the slow way
Sunday 17th November: Westerham had been mooted, but in the end we opted for Tatsfield Village, the slow way. I'd half expected frost on the ground this morning, but when I peered out around 6am, there was nothing. In fact, it wasn't really that cold. Here we are mid-November and I've yet to don the gloves.
Phil aborted so it was just Andy and I that headed out from Warlingham Green towards Sainsbury's and beyond.
When I awoke this morning, the television news was talking about a body being found in Warlingham. The body of a male or female? That was the question and forensics were looking into it; the body had been found in a well and seven people were under arrest. News reports suggested that a house full of Eastern Europeans were under suspicion.
As I cycled along the Limpsfield Road towards the Green I wondered how far I might be from the gruesome discovery. Where, I wondered, was there a well in Warlingham, because that was where the body had been found.
It all happens round these parts. In fact, this sentence is written a good 12 hours later than all that has gone before it and this morning I discovered on the radio news that the body had been assaulted prior to finding itself in the well. The plot thickens, but this story has made the national news headlines for two days in a row so I'll keep you posted.
The ride was good. The weather overcast and sullen, but no rain and a slight bite in the air. The cold weather is on the way, say the weather forecasters, and it won't be long before we are greeted by frost in the mornings and biting cold air. At the moment, though, it's pretty mild out there, although I recall one November, a couple of years back, when it was so cold that somebody left an ice sculpture on the Green – that was a very cold day and then I think we had snow that Christmas (or just prior).
Riding to Tatsfield the slow way is quite a trek and we both agreed, as we hauled ourselves up Beddlestead Lane towards Clarks Lane that it was probably a better work-out than riding to Westerham – or at least on a par. I've probably said this before, but Beddlestead Lane seems never ending; there are signs along the way that mark the route, signs like the dead tree trunk that stands alone on the right hand side of the road, like a totem pole, highlighting that the end is nigh. In fact, the totem pole (as I call it) is probably the only real sign that the end of Beddlestead Lane is nigh. The rest of the road is hedgerows, fields, gates, the usual stuff you expect to find on an NVL ride.
As always on Beddlestead Lane we are passed by Lycra Monkeys, who bid us a polite 'good morning' as they overtake us – we the overladen horse and carts, they the sleek sports cars. Our bikes are 'tractors' of the highest order and certainly not ideal for the sort of riding we're predominantly doing. One topic of conversation that has risen it's ugly head many a time is that we should be riding hybrids, with more gears and thinner tyres and possibly even trade in our high spec hydraulic brakes for old-fashioned blocks. Why? Because of maintenance costs. My front pads need replacing, I've just replaced my entire rear brake, it's never-ending. As I remarked to Andy while we sat at the Tatsfield Village bus stop, my Marin Bear Valley Special Edition had something like 21 or 24 gears and in the 12 years that I rode it (on the London to Brighton a couple of times, London to Cambridge and London to Oxford, plus the odd excursion out to Botley Hill long before Andy and I took up cycling, I never had one puncture, never had to replace the brake blocks, nothing at all. The Kona has been a completely different story, costing me, on average, about £150 per year. Still, I like it and I know that if I sell it on Ebay I'll only get about £150 so I'm holding on to it for the time being. Having said that, I've often found myself in bike shops viewing 'sensible' bikes with thinner tyres, mudguards, block brakes and the like; worryingly, it sounds like I'm gaining a bit of maturity. Next thing you know I'll be considering the value of a basket mounted on the front bars – "It's so useful!"
We sat at Tatsfield, munching the cereal bars and drinking the tea and, in all honesty, we were missing Phil's sausage sandwiches, which last week were fantastic.
I reached home just before 10am, having parted company with Andy halfway along the 269 – we came back 'the fast way'.
Phil aborted so it was just Andy and I that headed out from Warlingham Green towards Sainsbury's and beyond.
When I awoke this morning, the television news was talking about a body being found in Warlingham. The body of a male or female? That was the question and forensics were looking into it; the body had been found in a well and seven people were under arrest. News reports suggested that a house full of Eastern Europeans were under suspicion.
 |
| The Warlingham Green Christmas tree in all its glory |
It all happens round these parts. In fact, this sentence is written a good 12 hours later than all that has gone before it and this morning I discovered on the radio news that the body had been assaulted prior to finding itself in the well. The plot thickens, but this story has made the national news headlines for two days in a row so I'll keep you posted.
The ride was good. The weather overcast and sullen, but no rain and a slight bite in the air. The cold weather is on the way, say the weather forecasters, and it won't be long before we are greeted by frost in the mornings and biting cold air. At the moment, though, it's pretty mild out there, although I recall one November, a couple of years back, when it was so cold that somebody left an ice sculpture on the Green – that was a very cold day and then I think we had snow that Christmas (or just prior).
Riding to Tatsfield the slow way is quite a trek and we both agreed, as we hauled ourselves up Beddlestead Lane towards Clarks Lane that it was probably a better work-out than riding to Westerham – or at least on a par. I've probably said this before, but Beddlestead Lane seems never ending; there are signs along the way that mark the route, signs like the dead tree trunk that stands alone on the right hand side of the road, like a totem pole, highlighting that the end is nigh. In fact, the totem pole (as I call it) is probably the only real sign that the end of Beddlestead Lane is nigh. The rest of the road is hedgerows, fields, gates, the usual stuff you expect to find on an NVL ride.
As always on Beddlestead Lane we are passed by Lycra Monkeys, who bid us a polite 'good morning' as they overtake us – we the overladen horse and carts, they the sleek sports cars. Our bikes are 'tractors' of the highest order and certainly not ideal for the sort of riding we're predominantly doing. One topic of conversation that has risen it's ugly head many a time is that we should be riding hybrids, with more gears and thinner tyres and possibly even trade in our high spec hydraulic brakes for old-fashioned blocks. Why? Because of maintenance costs. My front pads need replacing, I've just replaced my entire rear brake, it's never-ending. As I remarked to Andy while we sat at the Tatsfield Village bus stop, my Marin Bear Valley Special Edition had something like 21 or 24 gears and in the 12 years that I rode it (on the London to Brighton a couple of times, London to Cambridge and London to Oxford, plus the odd excursion out to Botley Hill long before Andy and I took up cycling, I never had one puncture, never had to replace the brake blocks, nothing at all. The Kona has been a completely different story, costing me, on average, about £150 per year. Still, I like it and I know that if I sell it on Ebay I'll only get about £150 so I'm holding on to it for the time being. Having said that, I've often found myself in bike shops viewing 'sensible' bikes with thinner tyres, mudguards, block brakes and the like; worryingly, it sounds like I'm gaining a bit of maturity. Next thing you know I'll be considering the value of a basket mounted on the front bars – "It's so useful!"
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| Warlingham Church Hall, taken Sunday evening. |
I reached home just before 10am, having parted company with Andy halfway along the 269 – we came back 'the fast way'.
Saturday, 16 November 2013
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