so - this has been a vintage two weeks or so.
We went to Wittering for a week. Those of you who know the 'Island' will appreciate that the roads are flat (much flatter than Norfolk) and not greatly trafficed. In the mornings The Babe and I pootled in to Chichester for a coffee at Caffe Nero, either by way of Earnley or West Itchenor. Then we'd pootle back a slightly different way. Once we went to Selsey, but I'm not sure that it was wise - and it certainly wasn't intended. Anyway, the wet spring, followed by the sunshine of the last ten days, combined to give the countryside an almost iridescent lushness. The wildlife was going nuts - riotous birdsong, rabbits bouncing into the verges, and butterflies by the billion - well, by the hundred. Somebody once wrote that you could tell the happy cyclists by the flies in their teeth - given that we were chatting nineteen to the dozen it's a miracle that my count for the week was only the one swallowed fly. On Thursday we were just leaving Chichester when we saw Jasper going in the opposite direction. He did a swift U-turn and caught up, and we ambled out toward Hunston together before he went east for home, and we went south for the coast.
And then, having come home on the Friday, we went south from London on the Saturday. That was nice in parts. We were passed by the Brixton Cycles crew, who called out 'nice cap!' as they flew by - for it was a Brixton Cycles cap on the head of she who must be adored. She doesn't like Reigate Hill, so we did the A23, but we weren't quick enough to get past the junction with the M23 before the rush to Gatwick began. There's something about families in cars heading for airports that doesn't inspire confidence. But, a steady pace brought us to, well, Gatwick, where we took the Surprise up to Caffe Nero (this is getting to be a habit) and caught the train home.
And then Sunday. Off down the A23 again, with User10571 to meet Tim H and Tourist Tony, for a bit of a recce. This scout hut, or that scout hut? A sort of enjoyable wander around Horley, and a return trip up the main road added up to about 50 miles, most of it at a decent sort of pace.
Which brings us to Monday. Off down the A23 again (waving to TimO going in the opposite direction), and then on the B2036 to Brighton to warn the Madeira that our next visit might be The Big One. A following wind gave me a time well under three hours, without any appreciable effort. And then - a much tougher proposition. Down the A259 to Felpham and Bognor, with a sea breeze in my face, although the procession of lorries offered slipstreaming opportunities. I decided I'd have to work for this one, and scooted along, thighs and lungs screaming, hoping agains hope for the relief of a roundabout or a traffic light. There weren't many, and it was a relief to arrive at the sea wall in Felpham. A bigger relief to take the train back.
Tuesday - Wittering. I escorted the love of my life up to Islington, then dropped down to Tower Bridge and Cutty Sark Gardens, and met up with User10571. Off we went, in no hurry at all, taking the low road to Dartford, and then over the hills (screaming past the same RLJer three times) in to Gravesend for tea and bacon sandwiches. And then down the towpath toward Higham, keeping an eye on a cruise ship that looked for all the world like it was sailing across the marshes. We reminded each other of a few Dickens references (riders on the FNRttC to Whitstable have some revising to do...) and dropped by Andy's Cafe in Rochester to firm up the bacon sandwich order for the June edition. Onwards, past the remarkable two roofed church in Upchurch....
Mr. Rough the Roofer: 'Tell you what Vicar - I can do you an extra roof if you want, and I'll give you a discount - geezer down the road can't pay for heez, since the Bishop stopped his money on account of the choirboys not being up to snuff....keep you warm in winter, having an extra roof like'
Mr. Golightly the Vicar: 'well, if you're sure it will keep us warm'
Mr. Rough: 'like toast'
Mr. Golightly: very well, then, we'll have the extra roof. Mrs Golightly will be very pleased!'
And so to Faversham, where roofs are the least of it
and out across the marshes to Whitstable where we enjoyed a cool soda water while looking at the blue horizon. Back by train, and up to Islington to resume my escort duties. And very pleasant that was, running down the A24 in company with hundreds, yes hundreds of other commuting cyclists, some on sleek racers, but more commonly on nasty 'mountain bikes' with flappy shirts and jeans that somehow didn't quite cover the 'crack of doom'. Home to pink champagne and chicken salad!
And so, today! Quel horreur. A slow puncture had robbed my rear tyre of its 120psi overnight! So, here Babeship set off for Islington, and I switched tubes, and then set off in her wake at Warp Five. A young man tried to keep on my wheel at Clapham North, but I'm afraid I just had to say 'no, I'm in a hurry' before zipping through Kennington and Waterloo, to catch her just north of Blacfriars Bridge. And then, from Islington, a little wander down to Regents Park, a rather extravagant lap of the park, a conversation with an old friend at Cornwall Terrace, and then down through Marylebone, round and about Connaught Place, taking in the Danish Embassy by Arne Jacobsen
before going to Oriel in Sloane Square, where one is served on the instant if one is dressed smartly waiting for one's other half to emerge from Tony and Guy next door, but where one can freeze one's nadgers off sitting outside waiting to order a cup of coffee if one is wearing lycra except today.....when my whizzo plan didn't work, so I ordered eggs florentine which was reeeally spinachy and reeeeeaaaly nice, before wandering back to Caffe Nero (again, but this time with an excuse) on Lavender Hill, which is on the ground floor of a building that I designed a good few years ago, and opposite another building that I designed at the same time, a Sainsbury's local, which, thanks to the entrepeneurial vision of the owner now boasts more telephone aerials than Moscow Central, and then.....across Clapham Common and home to burnish my CTC newsletter.
So, I've ridden my bike for pleasure for each of the last (counts) twelve days, and I intend to go on doing so as long as the weather holds. And that's how life should be.....
We went to Wittering for a week. Those of you who know the 'Island' will appreciate that the roads are flat (much flatter than Norfolk) and not greatly trafficed. In the mornings The Babe and I pootled in to Chichester for a coffee at Caffe Nero, either by way of Earnley or West Itchenor. Then we'd pootle back a slightly different way. Once we went to Selsey, but I'm not sure that it was wise - and it certainly wasn't intended. Anyway, the wet spring, followed by the sunshine of the last ten days, combined to give the countryside an almost iridescent lushness. The wildlife was going nuts - riotous birdsong, rabbits bouncing into the verges, and butterflies by the billion - well, by the hundred. Somebody once wrote that you could tell the happy cyclists by the flies in their teeth - given that we were chatting nineteen to the dozen it's a miracle that my count for the week was only the one swallowed fly. On Thursday we were just leaving Chichester when we saw Jasper going in the opposite direction. He did a swift U-turn and caught up, and we ambled out toward Hunston together before he went east for home, and we went south for the coast.
And then, having come home on the Friday, we went south from London on the Saturday. That was nice in parts. We were passed by the Brixton Cycles crew, who called out 'nice cap!' as they flew by - for it was a Brixton Cycles cap on the head of she who must be adored. She doesn't like Reigate Hill, so we did the A23, but we weren't quick enough to get past the junction with the M23 before the rush to Gatwick began. There's something about families in cars heading for airports that doesn't inspire confidence. But, a steady pace brought us to, well, Gatwick, where we took the Surprise up to Caffe Nero (this is getting to be a habit) and caught the train home.
And then Sunday. Off down the A23 again, with User10571 to meet Tim H and Tourist Tony, for a bit of a recce. This scout hut, or that scout hut? A sort of enjoyable wander around Horley, and a return trip up the main road added up to about 50 miles, most of it at a decent sort of pace.
Which brings us to Monday. Off down the A23 again (waving to TimO going in the opposite direction), and then on the B2036 to Brighton to warn the Madeira that our next visit might be The Big One. A following wind gave me a time well under three hours, without any appreciable effort. And then - a much tougher proposition. Down the A259 to Felpham and Bognor, with a sea breeze in my face, although the procession of lorries offered slipstreaming opportunities. I decided I'd have to work for this one, and scooted along, thighs and lungs screaming, hoping agains hope for the relief of a roundabout or a traffic light. There weren't many, and it was a relief to arrive at the sea wall in Felpham. A bigger relief to take the train back.
Tuesday - Wittering. I escorted the love of my life up to Islington, then dropped down to Tower Bridge and Cutty Sark Gardens, and met up with User10571. Off we went, in no hurry at all, taking the low road to Dartford, and then over the hills (screaming past the same RLJer three times) in to Gravesend for tea and bacon sandwiches. And then down the towpath toward Higham, keeping an eye on a cruise ship that looked for all the world like it was sailing across the marshes. We reminded each other of a few Dickens references (riders on the FNRttC to Whitstable have some revising to do...) and dropped by Andy's Cafe in Rochester to firm up the bacon sandwich order for the June edition. Onwards, past the remarkable two roofed church in Upchurch....
Mr. Rough the Roofer: 'Tell you what Vicar - I can do you an extra roof if you want, and I'll give you a discount - geezer down the road can't pay for heez, since the Bishop stopped his money on account of the choirboys not being up to snuff....keep you warm in winter, having an extra roof like'
Mr. Golightly the Vicar: 'well, if you're sure it will keep us warm'
Mr. Rough: 'like toast'
Mr. Golightly: very well, then, we'll have the extra roof. Mrs Golightly will be very pleased!'
And so to Faversham, where roofs are the least of it
and out across the marshes to Whitstable where we enjoyed a cool soda water while looking at the blue horizon. Back by train, and up to Islington to resume my escort duties. And very pleasant that was, running down the A24 in company with hundreds, yes hundreds of other commuting cyclists, some on sleek racers, but more commonly on nasty 'mountain bikes' with flappy shirts and jeans that somehow didn't quite cover the 'crack of doom'. Home to pink champagne and chicken salad!
And so, today! Quel horreur. A slow puncture had robbed my rear tyre of its 120psi overnight! So, here Babeship set off for Islington, and I switched tubes, and then set off in her wake at Warp Five. A young man tried to keep on my wheel at Clapham North, but I'm afraid I just had to say 'no, I'm in a hurry' before zipping through Kennington and Waterloo, to catch her just north of Blacfriars Bridge. And then, from Islington, a little wander down to Regents Park, a rather extravagant lap of the park, a conversation with an old friend at Cornwall Terrace, and then down through Marylebone, round and about Connaught Place, taking in the Danish Embassy by Arne Jacobsen
before going to Oriel in Sloane Square, where one is served on the instant if one is dressed smartly waiting for one's other half to emerge from Tony and Guy next door, but where one can freeze one's nadgers off sitting outside waiting to order a cup of coffee if one is wearing lycra except today.....when my whizzo plan didn't work, so I ordered eggs florentine which was reeeally spinachy and reeeeeaaaly nice, before wandering back to Caffe Nero (again, but this time with an excuse) on Lavender Hill, which is on the ground floor of a building that I designed a good few years ago, and opposite another building that I designed at the same time, a Sainsbury's local, which, thanks to the entrepeneurial vision of the owner now boasts more telephone aerials than Moscow Central, and then.....across Clapham Common and home to burnish my CTC newsletter.
So, I've ridden my bike for pleasure for each of the last (counts) twelve days, and I intend to go on doing so as long as the weather holds. And that's how life should be.....
mostly up hill in to the wind, feeling unfit and having dug the allotment some this morning and then doing some horizontal morris dancing with the wife at lunch time, was a hot day and felt every mile on the return leg. 
