A ride to Westerham...and a few thoughts on freedom

I thought it might rain, but then, when I saw Magwitch by the roadside, small dog on a lead, I found myself full of optimism. "Lovely day!", he exclaimed and I had to agree. A chat had been on the cards for some weeks. We'd spotted one another before and simply acknowledged our co-existence with a nod and then carried on with our respective lives. Today was different, the circumstances changed, we were both easy like Sunday morning and it seemed like the right thing to do. I never stopped pedalling and as I headed for the hill I saw a dishevelled, harassed, pre-occupied, edgy Barbara Hershey – or somebody who looked a little like her – standing on the path admiring a horse across the street. She mumbled something, it sounded like "I've never seen such a tidy horse" and I had to agree, again without stopping, although I probably managed a smile. Perhaps she meant a tiny horse, a pygmy pony. I looked in the direction of the horse, who stared out from a solitary field in front of the football pitches as I passed. 

Freedom is a summer field...

In my head Dreaming from the Waist by the Who blasted out, I love that opening guitar that sounds like a flock of seagulls and the crashing, euphoric triumphalism of Keith Moon's manic drumming and then as Daltry's powerful voice kicks in – "I've got that wide awake, give-and-take, five o'clock-in-the-morning feeling" – I pushed on towards the 269 looking forward to the rest of the ride and the cinnamon brioche bun that awaited me at the Costa Coffee in Westerham. All was right with the world, I was on my fourth consecutive ride of the week and looking forward to chewing the fat with Andy about whatever we decide to discuss. 

Lord Chatham would have to wait, I thought, as I remembered an over-ambitious plan to ride early to Knockholt Pound this morning. I just wasn't sure I'd get back to Westerham by 9 o'clock, but I think I would have. There's always next week. Or let's hope so. 

I felt so glad - relieved - that I live in comfort in my 'safe European home' and not somewhere hostile like Kabul where I'd have to deal with the bearded, turbaned, extremist Taliban who think they can run other people's lives for them, make them adhere to a strict version of the teachings of the Koran. The worst thing about religion is that none of it is true, people don't come back from the dead, you can't feed hundreds of people with a loaf of bread and a sardine, when people die there are no virgins waiting for them; why would everybody be so scared of dying if that was the case? Why have a death penalty if it's really nothing more than a Brucie Bonus? 

I find myself extremely angry with the West's withdrawal from Afghanistan and, of course, it has its roots in something Trump arranged while in power last year; he, the biggest cock in the world, naturally, sowed the seeds of disaster, but I didn't expect Biden to carry it through and leave innocent Afghans at the mercy of a bunch of extremists. 

Why can't women be educated? Why do they have to cover up? Why is it that if they (or anybody else for that matter) don't agree with the Taliban they risk death? Everybody should be free to live their lives, think freely, do what they want, when they want, and not be cowering under the cosh of the fucking Taliban. And what about those soldiers we've all seen without arms and legs, 'life-changing injuries' caused by roadside bombs laid by the Taliban? It seems as if it was all for nothing. In another reality those soldiers could have been walking around without the aid of prosthetic limbs. And now we all face an uncertain future as the Taliban are sure to allow extremist groups like Isis and Al Qaeda into the country (I'm sure they're already there) to work on their evil plans for another 9/11, another bombing on the London Underground, perhaps. 

The worst thing is that it didn't need to happen, but it did and here we are, powerless, hearing stories of horror from those trying desperately to reach Kabul airport and find a flight out of hell. I think how easy it is for me to reach Heathrow and fly out of the country, I think of me now, at this very moment, listening to Nantucket Sleighride by Mountain, having just started to prepare dinner. I'm not expecting a biblical-looking gentleman, dressed in rags and carrying an AK47, to knock on my door and take me away because I've expressed a few anti-Taliban thoughts. I can call Boris Johnson an idiot (and worse) safe in the knowledge that the secret police won't be round to see me. I rode my bike 22 miles this morning without encountering any problems, no road blocks, snipers, mines, nothing. I am a free man and I don't see why others can't be free too. Why can't people live in peace? Surely we can all get on if only we stop forcing people to think in a certain way or act against their will. I don't trust the Taliban, they're saying they have changed, but I don't believe a word of it, and nor does anybody else, but time will tell. If they have changed there's no reason why some kind of deal isn't struck, but I can't say I'm optimistic.

Politicians at this present time are seriously lacking, especially in the UK. Just look at the British Government. Look at that idiot Boris Johnson, whose appearance alone let's the cat out of the bag. Dominic Raab, Michael Gove, Matt Hancock, Priti Patel, people we voted for; and look at Brexit. I love the fact that food prices are going to go up because we simply don't have the staff, all those foreign workers who willingly picked our crops from the fields have gone home and the lazy, good-for-nothing Brits think that kind of manual labour is below them. I understand we're now considering letting prisoners do the work instead, it's all very desperate, a bit like a chain gang in America in the 50s and 60s. What a fucking poppy show!

Facts and Figures – yes, I've been monitoring my rides!

Last week I just about scraped up some respectability for myself by managing to ride a little over 70 miles – 70.34 miles to be precise. A couple of weeks ago, while on holiday, I managed 143 miles and would have put in a few more had I not missed two days out of my cycling week. Now, back at work three days per week, I've got to recalibrate my weekly mileage. Today, as I write this, it's Tuesday and unless I ride into the office tomorrow (24 miles) or if I push the envelope a bit on Saturday morning, I'll be game on for another just about respectable 70 miles or so.

Saturday 15 August in Westerham Costa

It's Friday. Yesterday I rode to Westerham in the afternoon. By rights I should repeat the ride today if I'm going to gain any kind of self-respect, although I'm thinking hard about a Washpond Weeble instead, which will put me in a delicate position, although I might improve on last week's 70.34 miles. It boils down to whether I want to 'slightly improve' or put in a decent effort. Yesterday I left the house around 1630hrs and got home just before 1900hrs. I rode along Beddlestead and then down Clarks Lane into Westerham, but rode back on the road towards the Velobarn, hanging a left on Pilgrims Lane and then later taking the Woldingham turn-off known as The Ridge. It was quite a slog after work, but I'm glad I did it.

The weather outside looks alright, no sunshine to speak of, but it's warm enough, which is the main thing. I'm not sure if I've spoken much about it, but ever since 25 April this year I've been recording my rides and since that date I have covered a total of 1,202.15 miles. I haven't been riding every day, but I have had a few spells of daily rides and there haven't been many long gaps between rides. My longest spell of consecutive rides started on 15th July and finished on 27 July when there was a gap of just one day until I jumped back on the bike and rode to Westerham and then, two days later, rode to Shoreham in Kent (38.63 miles). My longest mileage was 143 miles during the week starting 25 July and now, as you know, I've had to recalibrate to take into consideration the work situation.

Saturday 21 August in Costa in Westerham

The great thing about recording rides (and I don't mean on Strava, although I do that too) is that you find little facts that can be used to enliven blog posts like this one. For example from 25 April until 25 July six out of 50 rides encountered rain as opposed to 25 out of 50 rides that were blessed with sunshine (now there's a heartening statistic! Since 1st July I have covered 578.20 miles on the bike and overall, since 25 April (as I've said already) I've riden a total of 1,202.15 miles. Not bad going. In terms of rides per week since 1st July, and in date order, I have been on the bike for seven days a week just once, five days a week three times, four days a week and two days a week just once each; the two days per week ride was on the week commencing 1 August when I rode on 1 August and 7 August, the ride on 1 August was warm and sunny, but the 7th August ride was warm with rain.  The four-ride week commenced on 8 August and finished 14 August and most of the time it was warm and sunny. Generally speaking the weather has been pretty good. Over the period from 25 April to the present day I have riden to Westerham 25 times and experienced the joys of the Washpond Weeble 21 times. And let's not forget new rides to Shoreham in Kent, Green Street Green and Knockholt and shortly there will be Lord Chatham's Ride, let's hope that's all I'm building it up to be.

Weekly mileages since 1st May 2021

Week ending

1 May 2021 = 60.18 miles

6 May 2021 = 65.64 miles

15 May 2021 = 105.89 miles

16 May 2021 = 25.35 miles (only rode once that week).

29 May 2021 = 75.58 miles

5 June 2021 = 67.09 miles

6 June 2021 = 21.44 miles (only rode once that week).

19 June 2021 = 84.75 miles

26 June 2021 = 70.46 miles

3 July 2021 = 84.57 miles

10 July 2021 = 34.53 miles

17 July 2021 = 83.17 miles

23 July 2021 = 115.73 miles

31 July 2021 = 143.53 miles

7 August 2021 = 47.68 miles

14 August 2021 = 70.34 miles

21 August 2021 = 83.01 miles

Notes: it's worth bearing in mind that since 1st May 2021 there have only been two riding weeks under 30 miles, 10 weeks over 70 miles, thirteen weeks over 60 miles and just three weeks over 100 miles.

Never be afraid of summer rain...

I was lying in bed, it was around 0600hrs and I could hear the rain. Garth, a work colleague, had been right, it was going to rain a lot on Saturday. I resigned myself to not riding and went downstairs to make some breakfast: boiled egg, fingers, a bowl of Alpen, around five grapes and two spoons of porridge oats. I almost forgot the mug of tea, decaff, as I'd been drinking caffeinated tea all week in the office and while I wasn't feeling wired, as I might have been if my tipple of choice was coffee, I'm not happy drinking too much caffeine, and some say there's more of it in tea than coffee, but who knows? Not me.

Looking out of the kitchen window I could see the rain falling into the birdbath. It had that look about it, the look that said, "you won't be riding today" so I sat down and messed around on the lap top in between munching the aforementioned boiled egg and fingers and then the bowl of cereal. 

Seat by the window, Costa, Westerham. I was back the following day!

It hadn't been a brilliant week on the bike, mainly because I was back at work and required to be in the office three days a week, Monday to Wednesday, except that this week I decided to leave my computer in the office on Wednesday night and return on Thursday and Friday because my computer at home – or rather the space where my computer had been – was being used, by somebody with another computer. So I had a whole week in the office, although the Thursday and Friday were the best as there was nobody else there, well, hardly anybody else. I spent the week having lunches at the Pop Inn Cafe (chicken fillet baguette most of the time, but chilli con carne and rice on one day and when apple pie and custard was ordered on two occasions. The problem with all of this, of course, is money. I hardly spent a penny working from home and managed to save a fair bit here and there, but now I'm forking out for extortionate train fares and expensive lunches. Fine, they hovered mostly around the £5 mark – hardly 'expensive' in a fine dining sense – although on a couple of occasions I spent a little more. The chilli was something like £6.90 plus a cup of tea (£1.20) and then the apple pie was £3.30 (£6.60 for the two). So, I've started spending money when in reality I don't need to, I should be making sarnies and going for a walk instead. Perhaps I'll change tack next week, because work is now a reality and while I could do the job perfectly well at home (and probably get more done in the process) it's back to work in the good old traditional manner. In all honesty, I like the interaction with colleagues and I like the separation of work from home life, but it does mean that cycling suddenly has to be recalibrated. Last week, while off work, I managed 145 miles of riding and it was fantastic (see the last two posts for more details) but now I'm going to have to take a look at how I can maintain around 100 miles per week. I've left a pair of shoes in the office so I don't need to carry them if I do decide to ride, so that will be less weight. In fact, without the shoes all I need to carry is a shirt, a towel and a pair of trousers. 

Here's my cycling plan, working on the fact that my cycling week still starts on Sunday. First, the Westerham ride to meet Andy (23 miles); then two 'Washpond Weebles' on the Thursday and Friday when I'm working from home (25 miles). Then there's Saturday's ride to Westerham (25 miles). The Saturday right could be extended to 30 + miles but let's say the default would be 25 miles. So, add all that up: 23 + 25 + 25 = 73 miles. Now, that total doesn't include a ride to work (24 miles) so add that on and you'd be looking at 97 miles per week, possibly over 100 if, on the final Saturday, I rode to Dunton Green or Shoreham (Kent) the birthplace, incidentally, of Hollywood actress Naomi Watts. Of course I might decide to ride all three days to the office, in which case it would be a Brucie Bonus of sorts.

Westerham via Beddlestead Lane and Woldingham

Today, when the weather brightened up a little, I did get out on the bike and while it tipped down here and there I managed to go all the way to Westerham, the slow way. In fact I would say it rained more than it didn't rain, but thanks to the summer it wasn't cold and I must say I rather enjoyed it as all the hedgerows on either side of the lanes were weighted down with rainwater and there was kind of misty air that made it all a little magical. I didn't see any other riders. When I reached Westerham I stopped at Costa Coffee and ordered a large English Breakfast tea and a toasted tea cake with butter, except that I didn't have it toasted. Then I found a seat by the window and the sun came out. I sat there not really thinking about anything in particular, just people watching and then, when the bun and the tea had gone I got back on the bike and rode out of town, past the Velobarn and then left into Pilgrims Lane. I rode to Botley Hill and took a left turn on The Ridge. Going through Woldingham meant a climb up Slines Oak Road on to the 269, but I took it in my stride and soon found myself on the home straight. 

All the way to and from Westerham I spent a lot of time avoiding roadside puddles and had to be careful not to move out into the line of traffic. I didn't get that wet and I think it was because I wore only the Lycra and a fleece, there was nothing to soak up the water; it got me thinking about how slow I am to recognise what's good and what's bad. I thought back to the time when Andy and I used to walk from Westerham to Oxted to catch a train home and the sound of deflated tyres squeaking along the road on the three-mile walk. Then, of course, we discovered 'leeches' and started to fix our punctures by the roadside. But for years and years we wore jeans or cords or cargo trousers and Levi jackets and when it rained the water soaked in, making everything cold and sluggish and unpleasant. Andy realised before I did and then, after a while, so did I. The blog is still called 'NoVisibleLycra'. I only started wearing visible Lycra this summer. It's much better, although I'm not sure what I'll do when the temperatures start to drop.

I reached home around 12.30hrs and stuffed my face with toast (two slices with butter) and a cup of tea, then, feeling energised, I did all the wiping up and then went in search of a new mower as our old Hayter 36 finally died. Right now, it's gone 1830hrs and I'm sitting here writing while watching Matt Baker on his farm, which is fairly relaxing, although not a patch on Clarkson's Farm on Amazon, but then Baker and Clarkson are chalk and cheese.

I reckon tomorrow's ride will be similar to today's (rain here and there) but I'm going to do it. Never be afraid of summer rain, it's not cold so just get out there and enjoy the ride.

Sunday was a far better day and there was no rain to speak of. I rode the straight route to Westerham there and back along the 269. Andy and I sat inside the Costa as the weather started to deteriorate. I ordered a large tea and a cinnamon brioche bun; Andy had a black coffee and a toasted tea cake with jam (no butter). We chatted about electric cars and how funny it will be when all those people complaining about not being able to park outside their own houses have something else to moan about: like they can't charge their electric cars from charging points outside their own houses. Imagine the chaos when cars, like mobile phones, run out of power and have to be towed to the nearest charging point! And let's not forget that electric cars, or EVs as they're known in the trade, carry Lithium-ion batteries and, right now, all the big steelmakers, like POSCO and Hyundai in South Korea, to name but two, are seriously getting into Lithium mining. We say: forget about investing in roads infrastructure, make public transport cheaper and safer, introduce more cycle lanes (of the variety found only in Holland at present) and life will be so much easier (and healthier) all round.

Covid closes Costa and other stories...

Last week was arguably the best week of cycling in terms of the distance covered, a cool 143 miles, just over, but I didn't ride every day of the week as I did the week before, albeit shorter distances, ie many Washpond Weebles. Last week involved rides to Westerham, a ride to a place called Pratt's Bottom and a ride to Shoreham in Kent, which was kind of a mistake, but it worked out a better ride than the one I had intended to do. I set off with the idea of riding first to a place called Twitton and then riding a little further to Otford, but in the end, I turned left instead of right, then saw a sign for the HoneyPot Tearooms (in Shoreham) and the rest is history. In fact, the Shoreham ride is the longest undertaken on Strava, or so they tell me.

The end of Ivy Lane where I turned right...

I loved Shoreham. It's a very pleasant and quaint little village and the HoneyPot Tearooms was perfect. The ride, in total, was a tad over 38 miles, roughly 20 miles each way and, as I said, my longest ride on Strava. I followed the route I would take for Dunton Green (along Pilgrims Lane, past the turn-offs for Chevening Lake, on the right, and Chevening House, on the left) and then, just outside of Dunton Green, I took a left turn and once past the Donnington Hotel, I turned right on to Ivy Lane and followed what turned out to be a very narrow country lane that was perfect for bicycles, but I wouldn't fancy my chances in a car. At the end of what was a very pleasant roll I arrived at a T-junction and joined the Pilgrims Way. At first I turned right and then, unsure that I was travelling in the right direction, I turned around and followed the road in the opposite direction until I saw a sign for the HoneyPot Tearooms. Had I remained on my original course I would have found Twitton and then, of course, Otford, but when I saw the sign for the tearooms I thought, mistakenly, that it would be in the centre of Twitton, but it turned out to be Shoreham. Little did I know, but I had travelled further than I might have done had I gone to Twitton, but it doesn't matter. This all means that a ride to Twitton and Otford will probably be done next week, possibly Saturday, as I'm back at work now and won't be as free as I have been over the past fortnight (I was on holiday, thanks for asking).

Tearoom sign sent me to Shoreham

A few kind words about the HoneyPot Tearooms: I ordered a slice of lemon cake and a paper mug of tea. The weather was perfect for cycling, not too hot, but bright and sunny and warm and I enjoyed just sitting there, in the fresh air under a kind of canopy, but not in the main tearooms, which were closed off. There were other customers: a young couple with a small dog who had a couple of hours without their young children who were with their grandparents. They told an older couple about their plans to holiday in Tenerife over the next few days, just a week, but I'm guessing a much-needed break. There was also a dad with his two young children and a couple who stopped by for something, I can't remember what they ordered as I was too busy with my own tea and cake.

Soon it was time to head back home, but before doing so I rode through Shoreham and then turned around and rode out of town on the same road I'd arrived on, Filston Lane. I turned left on to Pilgrims Way and then right on to Ivy Lane and when I reached the Donnington Hotel I turned right and followed the road to the roundabout where I turned left and rode towards Chevening on Sundridge Lane, taking a right turn on to Ovenden Road and then another left on to the all-too-familiar Pilgrims Lane, which took me to the foot of the hill out of Westerham. The rest of the ride was a 'known known' and I must have reached home around 1pm, it was Saturday afternoon.

The Honey Pot Tea Rooms in Shoreham, Kent

Earlier in the week, I think it was Wednesday, I headed for a place called Pratt's Bottom. You might be seeing a theme developing: Twitton, Pratt's Bottom, and that was the idea, to visit places with funny names that I'd spotted on the map. Anyway, I rode the normal way towards Westerham for this ride, but instead of going down the hill I followed the off-road track that passes the Park Wood Golf Club, taking the left fork (not the right) and then being faced with a choice: crossing the road and taking either the left or right fork. I chose the former and rode along Buckhurst Road to Cadham and again found myself with a dilemma: do I turn left or right? Had I turned right I would have eventually found the place I was intending to visit (Knockholt) but as there was nobody around to ask and no signs, I turned left and rolled my way towards a place called Green Street Green. After a little faffing around I followed signs to Pratt's Bottom and initially stopped to buy mineral water, but a queue meant that I ditched both on a shelf near the exit and left, slightly peeved. I crossed the road and followed a road into Knockholt where I found a convenience store. There I purchased a Snickers and a bottle of Evian. By now the rain had started, but fortunately it was warm so it didn't really matter. In fact, it had started to pour down long before I reached Knockholt and continued for some time. I rode along Main Road and eventually took a left turn down Sundridge Lane, taking a right into Pilgrims Lane and then riding home the usual route. Coming back from Shoreham I had approached Pilgrims Lane from the other direction and turned left into Pilgrims Lane, but coming back from Knockholt I was on the same road, just travelling downhill and not uphill.

Lemon cake and tea at the Honey Pot

Another ride that will have to be done at a later date is Lord Chatham's Ride, which is near to Knockholt and Knockholt Pound; it's a track that runs through a wood close to Sundridge Lane and then sweeps round on itself and finishes at the back of Chevening House. I think it might be a pleasant ride through the woods, hence my interest. I returned home from my Knockholt ride around 1pm.

Other than Shoreham and Pratt's Bottom/Knockholt I made a couple of trips to Westerham. In fact, unlike the week prior when I rode every day of the week, last week saw just five rides and two days off, but the mileage was such that I managed a much higher weekly total.

The Costa Coffee in Westerham was closed all week and I found out on Sunday that it was due to four staff members testing positive for COVID. This meant that I had to drink tea and eat cake from the Tudor Rose and I think I might have mentioned in my last post that the value for money there is pretty poor, so I was glad when I found that Costa had re-opened on Sunday. Andy and I sat outside. I ordered large tea and a cinnamon Danish, but I messed up last week as I'd already enjoyed a home-made Biscoff Millionaire's Shortbread during the week at Flavours in Warlingham and the aforementioned lemon cake in the HoneyPot Tearooms on Saturday – not good.

I've yet to experience Lord Chatham's Ride

As for future rides, I'm going to have to work something out as I'm back at work three days a week from today (2nd August 2021); this means that I won't be able to devote so much time to riding the bike, certainly not on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. That said I'm considering riding to work tomorrow, but I've considered it before and not bothered, let's see. I know there might be rain tomorrow evening, which won't be very pleasant on the uphill return journey and those nasty hills (White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane), but I might give it a go. But how to maintain a healthy 80 miles per week? Okay, there's Sunday's Westerham Ride (circa 22 miles) then there's my Saturday ride (which could be circa 30-38 miles) - what's that? A minimum of 52 miles plus 25 miles if I ride two midweek Weebles (Thursday and Friday) so 52 plus 25 = 77 miles, not bad, just three miles off of my magical 80 miles (for ultra respectability). Perhaps if one of my rides is the Beddlestead/Woldingham circuit, that would do it! So it's possible, but it wouldn't give me the satisfaction of not paying the extortionate train fares. I think I'll have to adopt a suck it and see approach, see how I feel, what the weather's like and then take a chance on riding in. I better shut up talking about it otherwise I'll start boring people when I continually don't ride to work and end up making excuses instead.

Twitton and Otford? Maybe next week...

I took Buckhurst Lane to reach Cadham

Shoreham in Kent is a nice little village

(No) Visible Lycra...

Perhaps I should be changing the name of the blog, getting rid of that word 'No' and admitting that, for the past month, possibly longer, I've been wearing Lycra in the open air, in the broad daylight. You could even call me a Lycra Monkey, let's face it, and it all started, of course, when I bought a pair of Lycra cycling shorts, admittedly many months ago. Alright, the premise is simple: No Visible Lycra. That means I wear the stuff (to protect certain parts of my anatomy) but it's not visible to the human eye. Fine. Except that recently it's been very visible as I have decided not to wear the trousers that normally cover the offending item of clothing. Why has this happened? Well, the summer for a start. There's nothing worse than wearing heavy cargo trousers with loads of pockets over a pair of Lycra cycling shorts in the heat of the day. In fact, that's really the only reason if I'm honest. So, off with anything covering the shorts and suddenly I'm a Lycra monkey. It feels much better and if it rains I don't seem to get that wet because the rain isn't absorbed into the material as it is with the cargo trousers, which, incidentally, are now spattered in white paint from a fairly recent bout of decorating. Look, it's freer, it's lighter, it's better, but it does make me wonder about the title of my blog, which, of course, I won't be changing.

Westerham, outside Tudor Rose in the sunshine on 17 July

This post is a little late as we're nearing the end of this week's cycling and I've yet to put pen to paper on last week's, which was good, although not as good as this week. It's Friday 23 July as I write this and I've been riding daily for well over a week so I should be putting in over 100 miles this week, although that phrase 'well over' is probably an exaggeration. But let's look at last week's rides first. In a nutshell, I've got to ride three Washpond Weebles to make a decent week of riding and that's what I did: three Weebles and one 'Weeble and more' which was rather odd; I saw a sign for the Sustrans Route 21 (avid readers will remember how I took Route 21 from Redhill to Warlingham and ended up riding an off-road hell of sorts). Well, I assumed that the stretch of this route I was about to embark upon was the continuation from the bit from Redhill and sure enough it was. Route 21 ultimately ends up in Greenwich, but I wasn't going that far, although I thought I'd see where it went and follow it for a short while. It was mud and puddles all the way and, much to my disappointment, the road veered right and I ended up on Scotshall, a country lane that took me back on the original Weeble route, upping my mileage by just half a mile. In other words it was a complete waste of time. The weather throughout last week's rides was good: sunny, warm, bright and hot on different days and that makes all the difference as only the previous week there had been cloud and rain. In the end I managed around 84 miles (that's a rough calculation, but a respectable distance nonetheless).

Crumbling cake and not much tea...

This week started with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and a respectable 22.85 miles in the sunshine. In fact, on the sunshine front, I have a pleasant sun tan on my legs and arms as a result. We sat outside the Costa, which I think offers far better value for money than the Tudor Rose cafe. Last Saturday (17 July) was the final day of my cycling week and I rode to Westerham via Beddlestead and through Woldingham. I decided to have tea in the Tudor Rose and ordered a slice of coffee and walnut cake. When the order arrived I won't deny it, I was disappointed. For a start, the cake was falling apart (I've experienced this before at the Tudor Rose) and the 'large tea' was not even a decent-sized mug. To make matters worse it cost me £6. At Costa I can get a large tea (and I mean a large tea in a huge paper carton with two tea bags) plus a cinnamon brioche bun for something like £4.28. I told Andy that the Costa provided better value for money and then continued to stuff my face.

On the cake front (and it has to be mentioned) last week I did rather overdo things, and not just cakes. Off the top of my head I think I enjoyed the following: a white chocolate Twix, a Wispa bar, a Twirl, a cappuccino mousse from Waitrose, possibly two of them, the aforementioned coffee and walnut cake and a couple of Millionaires shortbreads, something like that; so this week I put on the brakes. I've riden every day of the week and I've not touched a cake or a chocolate bar and let's get it on record that I have riden daily since 15 July, it's now 23 July and I will be going out today too, possibly this afternoon.

The Rockhopper on Washpond Lane...

This week, to date I've mainly stuck to the Weebles, but on Wednesday I did a straight ride to Botley Hill on the 269 around 1000hrs when the road seemed relatively quiet, although I did get one 'use the cycle lane!' from a Boris Johnson supporter and of course ignored him. That ride clocked up 13.42 miles but I won't do it again. Yesterday I was intending to do another Weeble but the road was closed, causing me to ride down Hesiers, up Beddlestead Lane, head west on Clarks Lane and then ride The Ridge into Woldingham and up Slines Oak Road (17.42 miles). So far this week I've riden 72.43 miles and I've got two rides to go, meaning that if I ride a Weeble today (12.30 miles or thereabouts) plus, say, a Westerham ride tomorrow, then my total will top 100 miles.

Vineyards along Pilgrims Lane...

All week it's been hot, very hot, often too hot to ride a bike, but the shade of the trees, the fragrant hedgerows and the warm breeze has made it all very pleasant and there's still two days of this week's cycling to go so I'm not complaining.

Fields on Beddlestead Lane...

Today I'm planning a Washpond Weeble, but being as the road is closed, meaning access to Washpond Lane is impossible, I'll have to ride down Hesiers Hill and repeat yesterday's ride, which isn't a hardship. In fact, it's greater mileage so it all adds to the final total, which I won't know until I've completed tomorrow's ride either to Westerham - where there's the temptation of cake - or to the Lakes where I'll need a flask of hot water, a mug and a couple of tea bags, although, if the latter, I'm going to have to leave the house earlier, possibly even at the old time of 0700hrs. I haven't left the house that early for some time.

Another scene from Beddlestead Lane earlier this week...

Friday afternoon, around 1630hrs, I headed out not really knowing where I was going. The rough plan was to ride the Washpond Weeble, but only if Beech Farm Road was no longer closed. The alternative was doing a Ledger's Loop, which I reckoned would be around 10 miles, but it might be less and knowing Strava I'd be disappointed to discover that, lo and behold, it was only, say, 9.34 miles (or something of that order). But still, I thought I'd go for it: I'd follow the route of the Weeble, but branch right on to Ledgers Road and then ride back along the 269 and home. As I rode along Ledgers I figured that if the road was still closed surely there would be a 'Road Closed' sign at the bottom of Washpond Lane, but there wasn't so I embarked upon a Reverse Weeble and sure enough the signs had been removed from Beech Farm Road, all was well and as of now, Saturday morning at 0834hrs, I've riden something like 85 miles with one ride left to go and that's now, any second now. But it's dark outside, rain is threatened and it looks like a November morning. The temperature is roughly 19 degrees so it's not that bad. I've got to get out there, I know that much, and I've only got around 30 minutes of slobbing around before I need to commit. It looks as if I'll go over 100 miles this week.

The Rockhopper on Beddlestead Lane...

And I did go over 100 miles, riding a record 110 miles thanks to a ride to Westerham. Yes, it was initially dull and grey and there was a persistent drizzle, but I persevered and by the time I was on Beddlestead Lane I was feeling good, thanks again to the fragrant hedgerows and the ferns lining each side of the road. I don't think I've ever seen ferns so tall. This is what I love about the summer months, the fact that nature is cascading everywhere, enclosing the country lanes and transforming them into peaceful havens of tranquility, almost another world shut off from the cacophony of modern life. All I could hear as I pedalled towards Clarks Lane and my left turn towards Westerham, was the chirping of birds and the rustle of other wildlife in the undergrowth, I didn't even see any other cyclists (along Beddlestead Lane).

Tea at the Tudor Rose

I rode along Pilgrims Lane, past the vineyards and the Velobarn (which was deserted) and into Westerham. To my dismay, Costa was closed so I was forced to visit the Tudor Rose. I didn't have any cake, they were looking a bit tired, and I suspect that the crumbly-looking coffee and walnut cake was the same one I ordered last week. A mug of tea sufficed. 

The ride home was fine. I retraced my inward ride but then followed The Ridge into Woldingham and home, cycling up the steep bit of Slines Oak Road with relative ease and then sailing along the Limpsfield Road towards home. The new cycling week starts tomorrow with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy... and if Costa's closed we'll need to find somewhere else for tea and possibly cake too, although the week without cake and sweets has done me some good and I'm not sure I fancy stuffing my face, I might just leave it.

Costa still closed, but the cake was fresh, not crumbly

Just a brief word about the Tudor Rose Tea Rooms' cakes: today they were fine and they looked recently replenished. Yesterday (Saturday) they were looking a bit tired and there was just one slice of coffee and walnut cake left, but today there was a whole cake so I ordered some and as you can see from the image above, it's not crumbly, it's perfect, although it still cost me just under £6.00 and I was forced to have a small pot of tea rather than a much more satisfactory paper cup. The photo above was taken this morning in a crowded restaurant. Fortunately, I managed to find a small table at the back and had to move my bike so that I could see it from where I was sitting. The service was a bit rubbish, I ordered a tea and a slice of coffee and walnut cake and heard the waitress make the mistake and then over-charge me: "So that's one tea, a slice of walnut cake and a coffee, that'll be £8.60." No, I said, that can't be right and she apologised but then, later, she took my order to the wrong table. The boss woman wasn't there so I'm guessing that was why things were a little off-kilter. I wish Costa would re-open, which is odd coming from me, somebody who likes the support the indie operators, but I'm afraid the Costa offers far better value for money, they're clearly not checking out their competition.

Hot, sunny days create shadows and here's mine!

... and I did get out there! I rode to Westerham and there was no rain!

My last post was pretty depressing if the truth be known. I'd woken up and not really given any thought to riding the bike until I saw raindrops hitting the birdbath and that made me feel a little down. I almost resigned myself to not riding today (see previous post) but then things started to brighten a little and while there were spits of rain when I eventually plucked up the courage to get out there, the weather was fairly pleasant. It was warm for a start, which always helps, and while I did feel the odd drop of rain occasionally, the ride was perfect. 

Inside Costa Saturday morning

Having not riden since last Sunday I felt uncharacteristically energetic as I bombed along Ellenbridge in preparation for the climb of Church Way and when I reached the top I sailed through the churchyard, along a short stretch of Onslow Gardens and then right into Blenheim. A right turn and then a left and I was on the Limpsfield Road heading for Warlingham Green and then onwards towards the roundabout at Chelsham, just past Sainsbury's. From there I followed the country lanes which wound their way towards St. Leonards church and then I took the plunge and headed down Hesiers Hill towards Beddlestead where the ferns cascaded on to the road and where the occasional Lycra monkey whirred past me.

I take Beddlestead in my stride these days, but it's still fairly long and the whole thing is a hill. But soon it was over and I turned left on to Clarks Lane and rode downhill into Westerham. I noted that Pilgrims Lane was closed so I had to follow the traditional route into town and when I got there it was its usual self: lots of people milling around, queuing for a Costa, sitting on the green or looking in shop windows.

I know I was moaning about my diet in the last post, but that didn't stop me weakening and ordering an English Breakfast tea with a cinnamon brioche bun. I sat indoors, keeping a weather eye on the bike that rested outside and enjoyed my tea and bun. I could have sat there all day if the truth be known, but I knew I'd have to be getting back. There weren't that many people there: straight ahead of me two men were chatting. I think they were old pals catching up. To my right at roughly one o'clock was a couple, a man and a woman, who didn't seem to have much to say to each other. The woman had long blonde hair and the man a kind of grey/black Brillo pad. There were two young girls sitting at roughly ten o'clock and at nine o'clock a couple with a toddler who ordered some kind of breakfast bap each along with a drink. To my right, or at roughly three o'clock, a solitary man and that was it apart from those queuing.

Tea and a cinnamon brioche bun...

In the end I plucked up the courage to leave and found myself riding out of Westerham following the same road I came in on. The hill was fine and soon I reached the roundabout close to Botley Hill and had to debate whether or not to follow The Ridge into Woldingham. I decided to risk the 269 instead and soon I was in Sanderstead High Street and then back in Blenheim, Church Way, Ellenbridge and home. 

It never rained. Alright, there was the odd spit, but nothing more and now I'm home and penning this unusual second post in one day. Total mileage today was 22.21 miles, add that to the 12.32 and you get my weekly total of 34.53 miles. Not brilliant, but I'll improve on that next week.

On Sunday the weather improved considerably and I rode to Westerham again to meet Andy who was back from his holiday in Cornwall. We chatted again about Andy's 'dawn to dusk' plan and I started to warm to the idea myself. Once again, I decided not to ride home via The Ridge and instead risked the 269. I was home around 1100hrs and then got cracking on mowing the lawn. The weather was fantastic yesterday and the only disappointment was England losing in the Euro 2020 final on penalties. We scored first, making it 1-0, the Italians equalised and then there was extra time followed by the penalties and of course we lost, we always do. Better luck next time, England.

Not a single ride...apart from last Sunday

Saturday morning and I was awake around 0400hrs, probably about 10 minutes earlier. I wanted to get out of bed, but I knew it would be a bad idea so I lay there and eventually fell asleep, waking at gone 0700hrs. I fell asleep again and awoke around 0800hrs, switched on LBC and then got up. To be honest, I hadn't spared a thought for the weather. I made breakfast and switched on the lap top, perused the BBC website and wasn't even thinking about cycling, even if a ride was lurking in the back of my mind. I always ride on a Saturday, it's the last day of my cycling week. But clearly not today. Still not really thinking about the weather I went upstairs and changed and then, when I found myself in the kitchen, I noticed the raindrops in the birdbath. I was just about to go and there they were, so I checked out the weather app on the iphone and sure enough it's going to rain all day, or almost, although there's a chance right now of getting out there and if I can, I will.

Lunch in a local caff yesterday...

It's been a bad week for riding the bike. I was working Monday to Wednesday, which put a ride out of the question, and the rain also stopped my riding in, so I was down to just two days, Thursday and Friday, but for some reason the momentum was lost and when I checked back to what I did last Sunday I was disheartened to note that I only rode 12.5 miles. Suddenly it dawned on me yesterday that my weekly mileage was going to be piss poor and that made it even worse. I resigned myself to not being proud of my weekly total.

What I must do is stop eating rubbish. This week: two Wispa bars, a Twirl, a chocolate mousse and an almond croissant. This is not new. Since lockdown I've been comfort eating. Big breakfasts, peanut butter, marmalade, boiled egg and fingers, bowl of Alpen and my general food intake isn't good either. Last night a cream cheese sandwich and it really has to stop. But it's harder than you think to stop eating crap, but I'm going to give it a go. Even a few minutes ago, however, I was looking forward to reaching Westerham and enjoying another cinnamon brioche bun with my English breakfast tea, and I've just remembered that during the week, after work, I sat in Redhill Costa munching a Millionaires Shortbread with my tea. It. Has. To. Stop.

So, the bike's in the garage, I'm in the house, it's raining and all there is to look forward to is England's drubbing in tomorrow's Euros. Well, alright, I want them to win and they could, of course, but it's Italy they're up against so I'm not going to get worked up about it, best to say they'll lose and then whatever happens will be alright. I was a bit suspicious about the Denmark game, purely because that second goal was a Denmark own goal, Kane missed the penalty, only scoring on the rebound, and the decision to award a penalty? Well, who knows? Everybody's going on far too much about the final. Just because England is generally rubbish in the football department, we're all thinking "it's coming home". Well, the only thing that is definitely coming home is the team. Why? Because the game takes place in Wembley so they're already home. It is probably going  to Rome, so I'm not going to get upset, but I will be watching the game.

This was good!

There's also Wimbledon finals this weekend, but as I've said before, the tennis is boring, there's no major 'rock star' players like Borg or McEnroe, everything has it's golden age and for both footy and tennis, they're over. God! I'm sounding as if I'm on a big downer, perhaps I am, it's hard to tell these days.

It's looking brighter out there and I might make a dash for it even if I know I'll get a soaking in the process. It's 1003hrs and it's make or break. I'll probably get to the top of Church Way and it'll start pouring down. What's worse, though? Staying in and resigning myself to a slobby day or getting out there and at least giving it a go? Probably the former, but I'm feeling fat and slobby as it is so I'd better get out there.

Hardy's Return of the Native...oh how I wish I hadn't bothered!

Over the past couple days I've been riding along country lanes taking in the wonderful smells and aromas of the summertime, the scent of the hedgerows and, of course, that lovely warm breeze you get on days like today and yesterday. As I rode around the lanes that led to St. Leonard's church in Chelsham I thought about a lottery ticket I had bought during the week, it was one that, should I win, I would get £10,000 per month for the next 30 years. Can you imagine that for one moment, £120,000 per annum, tax-free, for the next 30 years. That's a lot of money and a lot of time. And as I rode the lanes I imagined having won such a prize and how amazing it would be to be cycling through the summer knowing that I didn't have to work anymore, I could spend my days riding the bike, going to the beach, strolling around, wild swimming in the sea and so forth. Hell, I might even buy myself a place close to the coast so that I could enjoy the freshness of the sea and the sea air whenever the fancy took me.

Chilling at Costa in Westerham, Kent today...

But of course I haven't won such an amazing prize and why the hell should I? There are millions of people more deserving than I am. Perhaps I'll have to write that definitive 21st Century novel and then I'll be able to take life a little easier, buy myself one of those Henley garden offices and spend the rest of my days chilling and riding and writing and skimming stones into the sea. I haven't been to the south coast in a while and I really should be getting down there now that the weather's good. I'm still a little taken by Andy's 'dawn to dusk' idea and wouldn't mind trying it myself, although, as I probably said in a recent post, possibly the last one, I doubt I'd be able to ride the 250 miles to Cornwall before the sun went down, but who knows? Perhaps I'd surprise myself. Andy said that there would be downhill stretches that would speed things up somewhat and, of course, he's right. While I tend to average around 10 miles/hour there are times, when I reach a downward stretch, that the bike picks up incredible speed. But I reckon I'd be able to ride around 150 miles before the sun set in the west, possibly 200 if I was really lucky, but I'd settle for 150. I think I'd head for the coast and then, on reaching the front, head west towards Dorset, I might manage to reach Wareham before I sought out a campsite or, if I was really organised, the B&B I'd booked for myself prior to departure, having worked out exactly where I'd stop (or where I would likely end up) as the sun disappeared on the horizon and it was time for me to get some kip.

My sleeping rough 'fantasy' or 'dream' or whatever it is, still hangs over me occasionally. The other day I was on Amazon looking up bivvy bags, which are kind of elaborate sleeping bags. I found one that was basically a small tent, the sort of thing you could set up in minutes and then cover with camouflage so that nobody can spot you from a distance (I'm thinking angry farmers who wouldn't entertain the idea of me sleeping in one of their fields. That said, sleeping in random fields could be dangerous. What if a herd of horned bulls mosey on over during the night while I sleep, although I don't think I'll be getting much sleep, not on my first few nights under canvas. That whole 'dawn to dusk' business could easily involve the bivvy tent as it would be easy to carry, simple to erect and ideal for one person trying to keep a low profile. One day I might have a crack at cycling to the beach, I haven't done it for a long time and I'd love to do it; riding to Felpham is about 60 miles, which, these days, bearing in mind my increased fitness levels, I wouldn't have a problem with. I reckon I could easily do such mileage and would enjoy every minute, just as long as the weather was on my side, which it could be, you just never know with the British weather.

Summer in full swing on Beddlestead Lane today...

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I made a big mistake recently when I purchased a copy of Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native, I book I read ages ago and I rather enjoyed it; there's something about Diggory Venn, the reddleman, and Egdon Heath, which appealed to me, or so I thought when I bought it. But now I'm struggling and I wish there was such a thing as an amnesty on unread novels, like there is for knives. We could all trampse on down to our local police stations and hand in the books that failed to keep our attention, and I'd certainly be taking Hardy's tragic novel with me, although, in all honesty I don't really find it that 'tragic'. The character of Clym Yeobright, to me, is basically pathetic, he's come back from Paris where he seemed to be 'doing alright' and found himself getting married to one Eustacia Vye, Egdon Heath's femme fatale I suppose. But she fell in love with Clym because of what he was, not because of what he intends to become, and it all starts to go wrong. As I read it (I'm still struggling) Clym has damaged his eyes because he's been studying hard in bad light and as a result has taken a job as a furze cutter on the heath, much to the dismay of his wife who thinks he's capable of much better things. She wants to head to Paris with him, but he's fed up with the French capital and never intends to return and now she's going off of him. In my mind Clym is basically an idiot; he had a good job, he should have stayed in Paris or, failing that he should have returned to Paris with Eustacia, but no, he doesn't do that. I always feel as if I should shout at him to pull himself together and not throw his life away on the heath, but he wouldn't listen. His mother, Mrs Yeobright, is despairing with him too. Not only does she not like his new wife, but can't believe that he would throw away the opportunities presented to him by Paris and whatever it was he was doing there (I'm sure this is explained, but I can't remember). As I said earlier, I've read the book before and for some reason thought that the haunting quality of the heath and the strangeness of the reddleman would make the book appealing, but in all honesty I want to finish it and then crack on with something a little more exciting, like a cycling adventure book, of which there are many online at present; but because there is no amnesty on unread novels I'll have to wait until I've finished Return of the Native as I hate buying a book and then not finishing it; then it's all down to what \i read next. I could make a rod for my own back and read Saul Bellow's More Die of Heartbreak, which might be a decent book, I don't know, but it could be another Return of the Native scenario. What I need is to be sitting in a coffee shop somewhere, possibly the Costa down in Westerham. I could ride there, order tea and cake and then try and get through a couple of chapters of Hardy's classic novel. I'm not doing too badly. I'm on Chapter Three of 'Book Fourth', The Closed Door so I'm not a million miles from ordering something else online, like Nelson Algren's A Walk on the Wild Side, yes, the book that inspired Lou Reed's classic song of the same name. I'm tempted to read The Plague by Albert Camus or even something by Jean Paul Sartre, but I'm not sure, perhaps something lighter. like the aforementioned cycling adventure, would be better. But right now my only problem is finishing Return of the Native. It's Friday evening, it's very warm outside and the sun is still shining as the time approaches 1830hrs, so it's likely that I might fight my way through another chapter, taking me closer to the finish line.

The Lunchtime Weeble...

It's been a good week on the cycling front. It started last Sunday with a ride to Westerham to meet Andy and then, having riden for five consecutive days, I decided to take Monday and Tuesday off. On Wednesday a Washpond Weeble and then, on Thursday and Friday, two Lunchtime Weebles, which was by far the way to go. I used to dread the moment I finished work knowing I had to pluck up the enthusiasm to jump on the bike and ride out into the sticks. It's the last thing I want to do after a day of working. Lunchtime rides are far easier. I'm more awake for a start, there's less traffic (normally I have to cope with rush hour drivers) and I feel energised on my return to complete my week at work. In total this week I rode over 84 miles, an improvement on last week and I'm feeling good about it.

It's Saturday afternoon, 1317hrs to be precise, and the sun has just come out. Earlier, around 0900hrs, I rode to Westerham and it was cloudy with a mild breeze. I had the feeling it would rain at any minute and it did when I was sitting outside of Costa Coffee drinking tea and enjoying another cinnamon brioche bun, yes, another one. The rain lasted all of a few seconds and then stopped and held off all the way home until I reached the Sanderstead area. I had riden the slow way (along Beddlestead Lane) and then turned left and headed down Clarks Lane, following the road down the hill and round the bend, bearing right, not even turning left as I usually do and riding along Pilgrims Lane. I sat outside with my tea and bun and just took in my surroundings, people watching. A man tried to get a bright red armchair into the back of his estate car and he managed it before heading off to his home in nearby Chiddingstone, which, he said, was 15 minutes' drive away. There was a man with a nasty-looking dog, a few old people floating around and a handful of people on the green. The sun made brief appearances. I rode back along the road towards the Velo Barn and then hung a left into Pilgrims Lane where I found a Lycra monkey struggling to get out of the wrong gear. I should have quipped that being in the wrong gear was the story of my life, but I simply couldn't be bothered. I continued along Pilgrims Lane, emerging at the foot of the hill and started the climb that wouldn't end until I reached the Botley Hill roundabout. I turned left on to The Ridge and rode into Woldingham, down Slines Oak Road and then up the steep bit at the end. When I reached the 269 it was raining, but it wasn't cold so I pushed on regardless, passing Flavours, my new favourite caff in Warlingham, and then along the Limpsfield Road towards Sanderstead. I sailed down Church Way in the rain and put in a good 24.55 miles, giving me that magical 84-mile weekly total, well, just over 84 miles.

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.