Banstead - Westerham - Home
No problem, Andy, and you have our sympathy. How on earth do you make yourself sleep if it doesn't just happen? Any contact between pillow and head knocks me senseless. Same with a cushion on the sofa and the television; a real Micky Finn. I wish I could give you some of my sleep! It was very thoughtful of you to let us know. Given today's weather, you may well have been guided to the right decision.
A fabulous five gathered outside the shuttered M&S in Banstead High Street: Helene, Steph, Geoffrey, Jeff and Paul. A hastily formed coalition rapidly failed to come to a decision about how we might best navigate our way to Westerham. Steph forced the issue by getting into the saddle and cycling off. We duly followed her lead to Coulsdon, Farthing Down, Chaldon and Caterham on the Hill, at which point Jeff took control of the compass. Having passed St Trinian's at Woldingham, his choice of Haliloo Valley Road was not greeted with universal joy (hullabaloo rather), by those with greyhound rather than granny gears, for whom a chevron does not arouse the same degree of excitement. He therefore had to maintain a safe distance along Croydon Road to Botley Hill. At this point, gravity took control and the ladies showed their mettle by sweeping ahead in a cloud of spray and showing their tails all the way into Westerham, before stopping outside the Tudor Café, beneath the glowering stare of Churchill's statue on Westerham Green.
Here we found a welcoming party of Ian and Richard, with whom we shared a cocktail of peppermint tea, hot chocolate, tea and black coffee to wash down toasted tea cakes and bacon sandwiches. After chat and banter, a combination of cold, damp and common sense fostered a consensus that home might be a more sensible destination than the Old House at Home in Dormansland. So it was, and each then chose his favoured route to home and hearth. Rain came and went without relent all the way to the steaming hot shower and comforting noggin in front of the sputtering fire. A truncated ride gave a truncated mileage of 43 miles. I didn't even have the opportunity to unsheath the camera, but our decision to retrench was right.
Jeff
Here we found a welcoming party of Ian and Richard, with whom we shared a cocktail of peppermint tea, hot chocolate, tea and black coffee to wash down toasted tea cakes and bacon sandwiches. After chat and banter, a combination of cold, damp and common sense fostered a consensus that home might be a more sensible destination than the Old House at Home in Dormansland. So it was, and each then chose his favoured route to home and hearth. Rain came and went without relent all the way to the steaming hot shower and comforting noggin in front of the sputtering fire. A truncated ride gave a truncated mileage of 43 miles. I didn't even have the opportunity to unsheath the camera, but our decision to retrench was right.
Jeff
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