Lockdown, Part One: How come China can bring the world to its knees?

Working from home isn't as bad as I thought it would be; the key is discipline. The official hours are 0800hrs to 1600hrs, which is not normally my bag, but because I don't have to commute any further than my conservatory - or 'lean to' as a colleague who has never seen the vast, brick-built extension on the back of my house called it - the whole thing is bearable. I break for lunch at 1300hrs and when I return to my desk an hour later I know I've only got two hours before I can sign off and do something else.

The UK is in a kind of lockdown. We're not allowed outside unless we're going shopping for essential items, travelling to work that can't be done at home or taking some exercise. I tend to go out for the latter (the exercise) but on Thursday I headed for the shops where the store I visit is operating a one in, one out policy. Everybody's walking around keeping their distance from people as if to say "Keep away from me, you disease-ridden pile of shit!"

And then there's that problem surrounding hand washing. When I get back home from the store I hump the bags into the hall and then wash my hands, but hold on, if I now unload the bags I'm going to have to wash my hands again as I'm not sure how long the virus hangs around, and what about touching the light switch? Doh! I've got to wash them again. And what if I then to decide to open a loaf of bread and make a peanut butter sandwich? Doh! I've got to wash them again! And on and on it goes.

Not everybody's cup of tea, but I love them!

Around 1730 every day of this week except Monday I head out on what I call 'the hill ride'. It's a six-mile jaunt around suburban streets on the Rockhopper, but it's like a roller coaster: an initial climb and then a refreshing down-hill roller that keeps up the momentum until I'm half way around Ridge Langley. The bike banks over left like a Pendolino before reaching another incline and slowing down. I stand on the pedals to get me over the hill, but there's more to come as I turn right out of Ridge Langley and head uphill again. I ride two laps and then home for dinner.

Once dinner is over I settle down for the evening. I'm currently wading through Season 1 and 2 of the old X Files, watching two or three episodes every night accompanied by a Spiced Apple & Vanilla with Camomile and Passion Flowers tea. Yes, I know, it sounds a bit airy fairy, but for some time now I've enjoyed these teas and this particular variety, part of Twining's Sleep range, although I'm guessing it's the only variety in the Sleep range, is rather nice. The worse thing about fruit/herbal teas is that they smell better than they taste, but I've got used to them.

Invariably, I fall asleep, normally at the start of the third episode of the X Files and nothing to do with the programme as I love the X Files. When I wake up (I've normally been asleep for about 10 minutes or so) I lock up the house and go to bed, listening to LBC, and then the whole process starts again, except for today, which is Saturday, the end of week one of being at home. During the week people were encouraged to stand on their doorsteps clapping for the NHS, but I felt it was a bad idea as I didn't want to stand there clapping and looking like a cock. I still appreciate their efforts.

Andy and I have decided not to ride out together today or for the foreseeable future because of the lockdown. The rule is that you can go out with a family member, but if you meet a stranger en route you have to keep your distance. So we're thinking about riding alone to a specific destination where there's more than one bench, choosing a bench and staying apart, although we'll still be able to chat and drink tea. But not this week. Today it will be the hill ride for me and tomorrow, well, I'm not sure yet. Perhaps a ride to the churchyard. There's door painting to be done, but there's no rides to National Trust properties, no teashops or cafes, no walks along the beach, no idle drives into the Sussex countryside, no coffee and walnut cake, so thanks for that, China.

I've eaten porridge with bananas, blueberries and black grapes, had a slice of bread with peanut butter and an Earl Grey tea without milk. I'm sitting at the dining table with my laptop and it's a wonderful day for a ride. Had these been normal times, Andy and I would have been at the Tatsfield Churchyard by now, sipping tea and chatting about nothing in particular, just enjoying the vibe and watching out for a Spitfire that flies out of Biggin Hill alongside a light aircraft. They mosey around for a while and then I'd imagine they head back to base and that's normally when we pack up our stuff and head home along Clarks Lane, part company at The Ridge and say something like, "Same time tomorrow?" But that's all gone, for now, and the whole thing is annoying, depressing and, to a degree, angering.

What bugs me is this: how can China be allowed to bring the world to its knees like this? And why is the UK still allowing in flights from Beijing? How come nobody's talking about that? It looks as if the UK is being run by the Chuckle Brothers (Matt 'Jiminy Cricket' Hancock and that buffoon Boris Johnson). They're expelling a lot of hot air telling us all to practise social distancing, but then we hear that Boris and Jiminy have contracted the virus. Buffoon had been going around boasting about shaking the hands of people with Corona Virus. He might as well have made videos of himself licking toilet bowls and then posted them on Facebook. What a cock! Seriously. What a cock! And now he has the virus and I feel like uttering those immortal words of Michael Douglas in the movie Falling Down when he runs on to the golf course carrying his holdall full of guns or the rocket launcher, I can't remember which, and says to the pompous golfer suffering a heart attack, who had tried to hit him with a golf ball, "And now you're going to die, wearing that silly little hat".

Two rides to the Tatsfield Bus Stop...

Great weather! It's now light when I get up and light when I go out, so there's no need for (ahem) lights.

Vintage cars gather at the Botley on Saturday

We met at the green, as always, and headed, the slow way, for the Tatsfield Bus Stop. We didn't see that many Lycra monkeys and this was probably because of the (yawn!) Corona virus. I'm bored of it already, but I'd better get used to it as we now live in a one-news-story nation where the media simply focuses on one thing. For the last four years, it's been Brexit, and now it's the Corona virus. We reached the bus stop, drank some tea, moaned about the virus - why is it that we are being told that most people will only experience mild symptoms and yet the whole country is being shut down?  - and then we headed for home.

As I passed the Botley Hill pub I stopped to take a photograph of what looked like the beginning of a vintage car get-together. My phone (as always) was low on power and I didn't think this shot (above) had been taken, but it had.

Sunday was a carbon copy of Saturday, but I think the weather was slightly better. We sat at the bus stop chatting about the virus (again) and now I'm home, sitting in the living room, it's 1634hrs and the BBC news channel is on. Guess what they're talking about? Yes, you're right, the Coronavirus. We're all waiting for Bojo to put on his 'concerned look' (well-practiced frown) and address the nation. As I write this, he's probably looking into a mirror back stage and trying to get it right.

"Shut up, Dom! Don't make me laugh!"
"Did you get it, though?"
"Of course I got it! Have you seen the mess that snails make".
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Yes I do, now stop making me laugh!"
"Come on, Boris, you've perfected it, you're the great con artist remember, don't worry."
"I'm not worried. I'm more concerned about remembering your silly joke."
"Comb your hair!"

Voice of BBC producer.

"Prime Minister, we're ready for you..."

Johnson will be flanked by who? Probably the chief medical officer and the chief scientific officer.

In total we probably covered around 34 miles over the weekend.

Thoughts on the Coronavirus (or COVID-19)

It's hard to believe that the world is in the position it finds itself. The corona virus has turned daily life upside down. Countries in 'lockdown', transport services being cut, people (like me) working at home (the worst nightmare, blending work with home life or, worse still, allowing 'work' to intrude on one's personal life).

I keep temporarily forgetting about it, thinking that everything is alright, but then I remember and I immediately feel depressed about the situation.

The media love it, of course. It doesn't matter what channel or what time, they're talking about it constantly. New phrases have been introduced: 'self-isolate', 'social distancing' to name but two.

And let's face it, the corona virus is 100% a skiver's paradise. I wonder how many people out there have phoned in to say they are self-isolating? They're probably the same people who are busy buying up all the toilet rolls and pasta and leaving the supermarket shelves bare.

It's quite incredible the speed at which the virus has taken hold. At Christmas time nobody was even thinking about shutting the country down. In January it was still unheard of, similarly in February and early March. Yes, we knew that the Chinese were having problems with a virus that started in Wuhan, but because it was on the other side of the world it was a case of 'out of sight, out of mind'. But then slowly the reality began to dawn upon us. We probably acted far too late and were far too politically correct to simply close our doors to the Chinese. When I think back to it, we should have immediately stopped all flights from China, bugger political correctness, bugger whether or not we were causing offence, the doors should have been closed. Perhaps next time - and let's face it, there will be a next time - we will have learned from our mistakes.

What amazes me is the mess this virus has caused, the chaos, and I've started to wonder when people will start pointing the finger firmly at the Chinese and request some kind of compensation. I'm wondering whether Trump is planning some kind of revenge, some kind of punishment, perhaps stronger trade sanctions, I don't know, but surely the Chinese are not going to be allowed to simply get away with it. How many people are there quietly seething about what's going on and wondering whether those responsible will be pulled up on the matter?

I'm sure that, as always, the perpetrators (in this case the Chinese) will get off lightly, nothing will be said and we'll all be left smarting and feeling short-changed.

Right now, of course, it's only just kicking off. I wake up every morning without a sore throat or a cough, but for how long? I wash my hands around a dozen times a day, but I've yet to practice 'social distancing'. There's a two days on, three days at home roster at work from next week, my mum's 'self-isolating' for the next 12 weeks so there won't be any tea and cake unless I make it myself. Fortunately (for the time being) there's cycling. I'm looking forward to the weekend rides and I'm hoping that the weather won't lead to an abort text.

Woodmansterne Green and then over to mum's...

I was just about to leave the house when I noticed a text from Andy. He'd had a late night and had decided to abort. I sent a text back saying 'ok' and then I sat and wondered what to do? There were many options: don't bother going out, call Bon and arrange a meeting at Woodmansterne Green or ride alone to the Tatsfield Bus Stop or Westerham. All were appealing but I chose to call Bon. We met around 0815hrs and I rode the usual route through Purley and along the Foxley Lane, which has become flat land. They're building loads of apartment blocks, knocking down the big houses and making what was a very pleasant road look ugly and Croydon-like. Not good.

Bon, the Green, Sunday 15 March 2020

As I approached the Green I saw Bon riding towards me. We both continued to the Green and set up camp underneath Jean Merrington's tree. Out came the flask and the tea cups and then we wandered around chatting until about an hour later when we parted. I could have gone straight home, but thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and ride down to mum's. When I got there I had a cup of tea and a couple of slices of cake while we both watched the news about the corona virus. It's all very boring. The over-70's are going to be forced to 'self-isolate', probably next week and who knows what else will happen. I checked Croydon and according to the BBC website there's just one case. Well that's good. There's two in Sutton.

I can't help but think the whole thing is overkill. Apparently most people will experience only mild symptoms and don't forget, thousands die every year from 'normal flu'. Anyway, I'm not going to let it bother me. I'll leave all the fretting and worrying to everybody else. Who are the idiots who are panic buying? And why toilet rolls? It's not as if it's an arse-related illness. And why pasta? If people eat too much pasta they'll find themselves constipated. That toilet roll won't be needed and they'll start to wish they'd bought a pallet of Senokot too.

I rode back from mum's through Wallington, skirting Beddington Park and riding down towards Five Ways and through the council estate, on to the Brighton Road, left into Upland Road and right on to the Selsdon Road, hanging a right on Carlton, a left on Essenden and a right on to West Hill. In total I must have covered around 15 miles.

Sussex Road, South Croydon on the way home, Sunday 15 March 2020

When I got home I made another 'English' breakfast, this time fried egg, toast, mushrooms, tomatoes and onion and it was perfect. Now I'm just chilling and wondering what the week will bring. There's talk about working from home, which would suit me, I'll get more done without the distraction of work colleagues and, of course, I'll save a fortune on fares and lunches. But nothing's been said yet and if I'm honest I prefer to work in an office. I don't like it when the line between work and home life is blurred.

The bike's been behaving fine, but I think I'm going to need a new front brake pad soon. The bike needs a clean too, but that can wait a week or two.

When I wake up around 0600hrs, it's light outside, and today the weather was warm enough to dispense with the balaclava, although I like the comfort it offers. It's a bit grey outside, but there's no rain.

Tatsfield Bus Stop, twice!

Two rides to the Tatsfield Bus Stop and they were both great. On Saturday, the weather was good. We met on the green as always and headed towards our destination having a bit of a moan about the way the media are treating the Coronavirus (basically over-reacting). Why is it that if most people are only going to experience mild symptoms, to the extent that some people won't even know they've got the virus, why is it that there is talk of closing schools, bringing in the army, having no-go zones, people working from home, football matches being played 'behind closed doors' and so on? It does, of course, provide world governments with a great excuse for everything as, indeed, it does for the man in the street. Skivers must be loving it, they can calmly announce that they're 'self-isolating' and have two weeks off work. Companies can fire people willy nilly and blame it on the virus, under-performers can blame their incompetence on the virus and so on. Boris Johnson, of course, can blame the virus for continued austerity, which will probably kill more people. The whole thing, quite frankly, is utterly ridiculous. Why is it that the Government is happy to say that around 100,000 people could die when Italy, which is in the thick of it, hasn't had THAT many casualties? But of course, it's not really the Government that is the problem, it's the media claiming, for example, that Coronavirus deaths in the UK have doubled  - to two!

Daffodils on the roadside at Warlingham

When we reached the bus stop we enjoyed two excellent cups of tea courtesy of Twining's English Breakfast tea and a brand new flask, purchased from Robert Dyas during the week. We needed one, the old Stanley, caked with limescale and weighing (as it always had) a tonne, was getting a little old, the water quality (I think) was poor, we were getting funny-tasting tea, so a new flask was the order of the day. The tea was fresh too, straight out of the Co-op and opened at the Bus Stop. Wonderful!

Sunday was similar, although it was pouring down when I woke up at 0600hrs so I aborted, only to reinstate the ride half an hour later. We agreed to meet at 0745hrs and then repeated Saturday's ride, talking as we went about the virus and then enjoying more excellent tea when we reached the bus stop.

My bike needs a good clean. It's smattered and spattered with mud from the wet weather we've been contending with, the storms and what have you. I won't bother just yet because there will be more rain, more deep puddles and muddy pathways to deal with. Even today, as I rode along the off-road path I encountered a stretch of thick mud. While I tried to ride through it, it proved impossible, the bike sludged to a stop and I had to dismount and push the bike through. Thicker tyres might have got me through. Then there's my front brake, it needs looking at. But right now I think I'll keep it oiled and that's about it, although I'm not going to let things slip. It's important to fix things as they happen rather than let them build up until there's loads of stuff to be done.

On the way back it rained hard. I'd just said goodbye to Andy at The Ridge and down it came. I got soaked. But then the sun came out and I dried off as I rode along the off-road path, reaching home around 0945hrs. I'm dry now, well, almost. I'm not wearing socks and I'm about to head over to mum's (in the car). I know for a fact that a chunk of fruit cake awaits me, although I might take one of my sweet orange Tazo teas with me as I've been drinking miles too much 'normal tea', although I'm thinking why bother, there's nowt wrong with black tea even if there is a bit of caffeine to contend with.

Outside the sun is shining, the skies are blue and there are, believe it or not, blossoms on the trees. When I leave to ride to the green in the morning I don't need my lights and soon the clocks are going forward and summer will arrive.

To Westerham - the long way!

There was no way in hell we were going out yesterday. Rain was promised for most of Saturday and sure enough, when I woke up there was rain hammering down on the roof of next door's conservatory (or extension or whatever it is). So I resigned myself to no exercise and later stuffed my face with venison and cappuccino cake and a few cups of tea. As the day progressed the rain lessened and all was looking good for Sunday.

Venison with mushrooms, pears and potatoes

Andy sent a text suggesting we ride to Westerham, the slow way - a first for us! I rattled off a reply, something along the lines of 'yeah, great, let's do it', but then I started to regret it. I knew I was going to have a late one on Saturday night and began to worry and fret and wonder whether I'd be sending an abort text in the morning. But all was fine. I woke up around 0515 and simply lay there until the birds started chirping and then I got up, checked the phone and went downstairs feeling surprisingly fine. Special K. It's easier than making porridge so I chucked a ton of the stuff in a bowl, poured in a bit of milk, chopped up a banana, made some tea and chilled before it was time. Time to get up and head outside.

There were problems. I need a new flask or some kind of container (or containers) to hold the hot water to make the tea. But not today. I text Andy saying let's go the caff, but when we get there the caff is closed and so is Costa, so we end up in Deli Di Luca munching almond croissants and these weird pastries filled with chocolates and almonds.

On the way down we talked about the Corona virus and then I noticed an Italian was sitting behind me in the cafe. What was he doing there at such an ungodly hour? Had he sneaked into the country, had he avoided being tested, did he have the virus? I was more interested in my almond croissant and eavesdropping on a couple of Lycra monkeys, well-to-do Lycra monkeys, talking about fitness regimes, among other shit. The cafe was busy, probably because nowhere else was open, and we sat there chewing the fat, talking about joining cycling clubs. Soon it was time to go and while I usually don't feel overly motivated about tackling the hill, it was fine and so was the weather: blue skies, sunshine, warmth. I didn't need the balaclava.

Nowhere else was open, not even the Costa

When we reached Botley Hill we stopped. It was time to split, time to say farewell until next week. Andy headed off along The Ridge, I rode the 269 and it was great. The sun was out, it was warm, there wasn't too much traffic around and soon I found myself circumnavigating the green and heading along the Limpsfield Road and then crossing the Addington Road and free-rolling down Church Way, doing no-hands and then coming to my senses as a car drew up in a side road. I turned into Morley then Elmfield, left into Southcote, right on Ellenbridge, left on Barnfield.

Tea, almond croissants

And now it's gone 1pm and it's Bon's birthday today, he's 59. I just finished watching Bill Burr, the American comedian, he's extremely funny, and now it's time for a fish cake or fish fingers and there's no mayo and it doesn't really matter.  Here's to next week's ride.

What a great day! The cycling was energising and to top it all off I watched Season 3, Episode 13 of The Grand Tour - really, seriously, television simply doesn't get better than this. Please watch and enjoy! Good night.

In praise of Jonesy's Jukebox...

This article is all about one person: Steve Jones. For those of you who don't know about the Sex Pistols, Steve Jones was the lead guitarist. In short, the man is a legend - and not just in his own lunch time. He taught himself to play the guitar some three months before the Pistols first went on stage and, along with Paul Cook, John Lydon and Glen Matlock (my knowledge is a little sketchy here, but I'm going to assume that Matlock did play on the Never Mind the Bollocks album) went on to make history, changing the face of music forever. Hats off for that alone, guys.

On air - Steve Jones on Jonesy's Jukebox...

The reason this article is all about one person (Steve Jones) is because of Jonesy's Jukebox, a radio show that I stumbled upon whilst on You Tube. In essence, Jonesy's Jukebox is a chat show, but not like the usual stuff you get on the television. For a start, it's a radio show, but it's filmed too as it appears on You Tube. It's not like 'the usual stuff' because Jones is a musician and a legend so he knows about the music industry, he has insider knowledge and he doesn't go in for the usual chit chat rubbish offered by the likes of Jonathan Ross and Parkinson; and I think that is why he manages to attract the big names, like Slash, Brian May, Robert Plant, Iggy Pop, David Coverdale, John Carpenter, Billy Idol, Paul Cook, Alice Cooper and Todd Rundgren to name but a few. I've listed these guys off the top of my head, but there are many more (John Lydon and, I think, Pete Townshend have also been on).

Invariably, Jones kicks off most of his interviews with the phrase, "How are you doing?" Or "what you been up to?" Simple questions, but perfect. And what's more there's no boring chat based on the fact that the interviewee has a new album out or a tour. Alright, there might be a bit of it, but by and large, because Jones let's them talk and is not interested in anything sensationalist, the rock stars relax, they know that Jones is on the level, part of the whole rock thing, and they open up to him. And let me say now that it's an absolutely fantastic thing as there is clearly mutual respect between Jones and his guests.

I can't get enough of Jonesy's Jukebox and while half of my love of the programme is the guests, the main facet of the show is Jones himself, he's so down to earth, so inoffensive, a pleasant man who means no harm and is keen to share his knowledge with his guests and learn anew from them. It's great listening to the conversation, which is like eavesdropping on a pub conversation or, better still, being a part of the chat.

Jonesy's interview with Brian May was fantastic as both men clearly wanted to be there; May was chuffed to bits to be in the presence of Jones and while they did chat about the time when they shared a studio back in the day, the chat revolved around vegetarianism, veganism and whether or not there is life after death. And this is when Jonesy comes into his own because he's not the great intellectual (who is?). Well, Brian May I suppose, but my point is that Jonesy puts across the layman's view, he's not trying to be Melvyn Bragg or David Starkey, he's the man in the street.

I fully intend to read Jonesy's book because his early life was not your average upbringing, far from it. He was no angel – and readily admits, even on air, that he was famed for stealing musical instruments and equipment from bands prior to being in the Pistols – he was abused by a family member, and there's a strong hint of a life of crime had music (and being a member of the Sex Pistols) not saved him from law courts and prison cells. And I must say that I'm glad for him and saddened, I must add, when he announced on air that he had suffered from a heart attack. One person the world doesn't want to lose (not for some time, at any rate) is Steve Jones.

Jonesy lives in LA - or close by, I'm not exactly sure where - and I think he enjoys the sunshine and riding his motorcycle to work, doing the radio show. I mean, what a life! He's one of those people I'd love to meet, one of those people I'd like to chat to as we're roughly the same age (he might be a couple of years older than me, I'm now 62). I think if I was a rock star I'd want to be on Jonesy's Jukebox ahead of anybody else's show. Forget all those American chat show hosts, forget Jonathan Ross, James Corden, all of them, I'd settle for Jonesy's Jukebox and it seems as if the rock star fraternity feel the same way.

What else can I say to Jonesy other than keep fit, keep healthy and keep on keeping on with Jonesy's Jukebox, it's a great show.

Woodmansterne Saturday, Bus Stop on Sunday...

It's Sunday morning, 0643hrs and Andy and I have decided to wait until 0700hrs before we decide on whether a ride is on the cards or night. All night the wind has been blowing hard and I awoke early and listened to it gusting around outside as I lay there, right hand on forehead contemplating an abort text.

Library shot of the Tatsfield Bus Stop. Today's weather similar to this.

Now I'm up, sitting in front the laptop with two pieces of toast long eaten and a cup of Earl Grey decaff (without milk) wondering what the light will bring. If it's anything like yesterday I probably will go cycling. I remember sitting here in exactly the same position having resigned myself to not going out when Bon texted to ask if I was going. I called him and said it was a bit blowy out there, but somehow decided it was okay and agreed to meet him around a quarter past eight on Woodmansterne Green.

I left the house around 0750 and headed down the road, turning left on to West Hill and then riding through Purley, along Foxley Lane, now decimated by the development of flats, and on towards the turn-off for Woodmansterne. It was a very pleasant day with the occasional gust, but generally fine.

When I reached the green there was no sign of Bon. Normally he gets there early and comes down the road to meet me, but there was no sign of him. I parked up by Jean Merrington's circular bench and waited and suddenly there he was, in his car! Now, normally I would have been pissed off with this, but clearly something had occurred. The problem was that my phone had run out of power so I didn't know what, until he told me: he'd reached the garage and found a puncture, texted me to abort but of course I didn't get it so he drove to the green instead. It was fine, we drank tea and chatted and then, around 0908hrs headed back to our respective homes.

Library shot of Woodmansterne Green...

And now I sit here, a full day later, wondering whether Andy and I will meet at the usual time on Warlingham Green, it's looking highly likely. In fact I'd better get a move-on, clean up the cups from yesterday and sort things out.

Yesterday's weather was far better than today's. Yesterday the occasional gust of wind, today a mild drizzle, wet roads and gusty winds, but on both days it's been warm. So warm that I instinctively didn't wear the balaclava this weekend. There are daffodils all over the place and some of the trees have started to blossom so there are signs of better weather to come, but we're not out of the woods yet.

Warlingham Green on Sunday morning

We decided to ride the slow way to the Tatsfield Bus Stop and it was a good ride. We kept pace with one another, chatted about various things en route and when we reached the bus stop and found the bench to be wet (and our respective arses) we stood up and continued the conversation as we looked out on the drizzly greyness of the scene before us. There were a few Lycra monkeys around, but not many.

Andy and I parted company at The Ridge and vowed to be back in the saddle next weekend (weather permitting). I rode along the 269 and now I'm home and changed and back on the lap top writing the last few words of this blogpost. There are no images this weekend, or rather no fresh images were taken as my phone ran out of power and Andy didn't take any. The shots that you see above are what the BBC would call a 'library pictures', meaning they weren't taken on today's ride but are from the archive.

We were mesmerised by the media...

Both of us. Andy and yours truly. We'd both been listening, watching, reading about Storm Dennis, which has followed hot on the heels of Storm Ciara. It was due to hit overnight, last night, and I probably did hear some gusts of wind, and when I woke up around 0600hrs, having stayed up later than usual because I figured I'd be aborting the ride, I did just that: I aborted. I went back to bed, but not for long. Once I'm awake, it's not long before I get up and head downstairs for breakfast, and by 0630hrs I was looking out of the window trying to see the puddle on next door's roof, but it was too dark. Too dark to see what the weather was doing. But I'd aborted the ride, it didn't really matter.

When things brightened up, it didn't look too bad outside. I couldn't detect any rain, or not much of it, and the wind wasn't by any means a constant. Why the hell did I abort? I'd been mesmerised by the media! And so, incidentally, had Andy. I texted later to see if he went out and the answer was no. He had banked on Storm Henry hitting hard and had resigned himself to not riding. We both felt cheated, but there was nothing we could do.

As the day progressed, the rains came. I stood outside of Pearson's, a cycle shop in Sutton, Surrey, looking at the wet pavements and the puddles. There was a bit of shopping to do, but that was it and eventually I was home listening to the rain. My iphone said there was a 100% chance of rain all the way through to the morning and beyond so I started to think I'll abort before hitting the sack and that way I won't have a fretful night's sleep worrying (or wondering) what the weather will be like in the morning. "Just assume it's going to be crap," I said to myself later while watching Basic Instinct and being singularly unimpressed by the much-publicised 'full vadge view' offered to the film's detectives. Back in the day it was one of those scenes men felt they ought to have some kind of opinion on, the stereotypical opinion being little more that Phwoar! But I remember at the time not finding Sharon Stone that appealing. Nothing's changed.

So I'd better hit the sack, get some sleep. Got to stop eating shit. Coffee and walnut cake has to go, along with too many visits to the cafe.

To Westerham! And a visit to the Tudor Rose café...

Why have I got a wet arse? It's a question I asked myself when we reached Westerham and was standing outside the Tudor Rose café. The roads were wet, there were big puddles lining the 269 on the ride down and it had definitely been raining overnight so I put it down to that and then we bowled into the caff and ordered breakfast: Sausage sandwich for Andy and scrambled egg on toast for yours truly, plus a pot of tea. The last time we did this was 2019, at the Costa Coffee just up the road. On that occasion we sat outside, but today we took a seat inside and enjoyed the ambience of the whole thing. We could have had cake but opted for a proper breakfast instead.

Saturday morning at the Tudor Rose café

Why have I got a wet arse? That was the question. And while I blamed the wet weather, the puddles and the dampness, the reality was a little depressing. In a nutshell, two of those thermal mug thingys full of water in my rucksack had started leaking and the resulting dampness soaked through the rucksack and on to my backside. How annoying is that? Anyway, I thought I'd mention it.

The ride was good, there and back. In fact, on the way back I felt energised enough not to even worry or whinge about the hill. Normally, it pisses me off having to ride back up the hill towards Botley, but not today because I'd eaten that scrambled egg on toast and enjoyed a cup or two of tea; add to that the light-hearted conversation with Andy and you have the perfect recipe for feeling good.

Oh, and we ought to discuss the weather. Apparently there's a storm brewing and it's going to hit later today. It's going to be really bad news apparently, lots of rain, lots of wind, the usual stuff, and it might mean we don't ride out tomorrow. Well, look, if it rains I'm not going out, but if it's just a bit of windy weather, well, I can handle that and we can ride 'the slow way' to the bus stop. Here's hoping.

I suggested we pay more visits to the caff and we will.