Category Archives: family

around home, family, friends, history, London, UK

Farewells again

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I’m back in one of my most common blog updating places – an airport lounge. My nine month stay in the UK is coming to an end as I sit in Terminal 3 waiting to see from which gate AC851 to Calgary leaves – I’m well excited (slept in a bit more that I should have this morning – awoke with a start at 0800 remembering with pleasure a dream about Canadian singletrack). This week has been one of mostly packing & saying goodbyes to various friends & family & unfortunately not too many photos to break up my prose. Tuesday in London started off with a jab in the arm – a booster Hep. A shot that should mean I need never have another one. Finally got to finish off the RAF Museum after that, the Battle of Britain hall was reasonably small but packed with great WWII era aircraft. As well as the Hurricane, Spitfire, Me110 I was most pleased to finally see a Stuka – that fearsome bent wing dive bomber that did so well in the early advances of the Wehrmacht across Europe.

The Sunderland flying boat was impressive due to its sheer size.

Vittoria was quite excited by the arrival of someone to play with; in amongst all the games & trips to the “hospital” & having my apparently broken leg treated by the smallest doctor I’ve ever seen, I somehow ended feeding a often-dribbling Amelie – once again, teething looks like no fun at all. After a rather quick goodbye to Vittoria, she was off to bed – trying to explain that it would be some years before she saw me again was a bit difficult as the outer limit of a long time to a two year old is probably the week or so that is often between my visit, if not shorter. Shelley had done wonderfully well whipping up a pavlova topped with kiwifruit & it was not without some sadness that I took my last walk to Rayners Lane & sat on the Metropolitan Line down to Baker St.

Wednesday’s outing was up to Great Notley (near Braintree & Stansted) for lunch with first-cousins-once-removed Keith & Carol & Keith’s father Alan (my great-uncle). The oldest of his siblings & approaching ninety (but don’t tell him that) Alan is doing remarkably well living in his own flat & pretty much looking after himself – there is some hope I might not go doolally (a much used word that day – one I hadn’t heard for quite a while). Thursday was mostly more cleaning of my bike in the morning & then I headed off to meet Matt (the primary school friend from twenty years ago that I met a few weeks ago) at the Imperial War Museum. This was, at least, my third visit to the IWM & on entry & I thought I would only be having a quick look around. But upstairs I discovered a new exhibit – this one on that most harrowing of subjects, the Holocaust. We got lost in there for quite some time as there is always a lot to absorb & try to comprehend. It was quite well done, & while sobering not nearly as depressing as the Holocaust Museum in DC. All of a sudden it was 1730 & time to head off to meet Chris after work. This time I had a genuine reason for taking that shortest of tube lines – I actually wanted to go to from Waterloo to Bank. I sat waiting for Chris reading my free Evening Standard on the steps of the Royal Exchange for the last time, taking in the wonderful architecture that is the Bank of England & watching thousands of suits scurry around. Avoiding heading in to the melee that is getting on to the Central Line in the evening rush at Bank, we walked for quite some time west & I was pleased to be able to share some of my knowledge of small London museums that are worth seeing with Chris. We headed out a little west to Chris’s neighbourhood, had a pint at his local before I got the tour of his flat (which was pretty short at two rooms) before we walked & tubed to Paddington to meet Annie – a good friend of Chris’s that I had met at his sister’s wedding in Tuscany almost two years ago. Annie is now living in Melbourne & over in Europe for four weeks. Now that it’s the northern summer there are plenty of people coming this way – it is somewhat unfortunate in that respect that I am skiving off to Canada now – there are at least six people coming over that I would have like to have seen. But that’s a small price to for what promises to be a great year of riding & skiing. After my last pints of lager for what I imagine a while & a great time catching up with what we’ve all be up to, I said goodbye to Chris & Annie before heading off to catch the last train back to Sidcup. I was sure it wasn’t just the lager messing with me, I couldn’t find that train anywhere (it’s not like they’re a set of car keys – nice Snatch reference) & sure enough it had been cancelled & I had a slightly longer & more circuitous trip home.

Somehow yesterday I managed to squeeze a lot in to my Macpac & bike bag – somehow the pack has ended up heavier than the bike bag, which is a first. A quick visit to get shorn & then it was off to say goodbye to Nora. That was one of the most difficult visits yet as, it would be fair to say, after seven weeks she is a little tired of the mundane hospital & she was really quite angry & it took quite a while to calm her down with many more rounds of Gin Rummy. The powers that be have finally decided that Social Service will pay for her residential care, so hopefully Trish & Jan can find a place they like this weekend & Nora can move to a much nicer environment next week. The final farewells were last night over dinner at a great Asian buffet in Orpington. Jan & I managed to squeeze my four bags in to her Swift her this morning, a much easier trip to Heathrow than my last one (the four hour trek across London in the snow on buses, DLR, tube) on the M25 & I was shortly saying goodbye to Trish & Jan – I’ll miss my English family, they’ve been very good to me. Well Gate 29 is open now, so this is a good spot to stop & make sure I get on the waiting Airbus.

around home, bikes, family, friends, history, MTB, UK

Hastings, Welsh riding & almost the end of my stay in London

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I’m up in Ipswich this weekend visiting Louis & Emma (Te Puke & Palmy friends) before I leave (ash cloud permitting) for Canada next weekend. The weather seems to have regressed back to winter, so it’s been a nice relaxing weekend hanging out with old friends, eating good food, watching sport (a horrible game, but a good last ball win by the Black Caps), churning through a recent Tess Gerritsen novel, winning at Buzz & so on. All the major things have been crossed off my list of things to do before leaving London, so it’s been nice to get away for the weekend & ignore all the smaller things left. Louis & Emma live in a flat in a converted malthouse, & I really like the massive exposed beams & wondering at all the industrial & processing goings on that this place would have once seen – plus being so close to town is pretty good too.

Trish & I did make it to Battle & Hastings last week. I was quite impressed that Trish made it around the large battlefield with her previously broken ankle & leg still on the mend. The small display & video before walking around the field complemented an excellent audio-guide. The battlefield runs up the side of long gentle slope to the abbey at the top.

It was quite difficult at times on the rather pleasant spring day on which we were there to imagine fifteen to twenty thousand men slashing, bashing, shooting & charging at each other over the length of 14th October 1066. One part of the commentary that sticks in my mind is when it said that the first phase of the battle was over – that was six hours after the start & the battle then continued for the rest of the day. I can hardly last six waking hours without food, or at the least a drink – I can hardly imagine having to fight all day with such heavy equipment just in the chance that I might stay alive & help my side to a victory. William the Conqueror was persuaded by the Pope to build an abbey on the top of the hill as an act of penance for all the blood spilt – parts of this still stand & the second half of the tour is around the remains, which were quite interesting.

Leaving Battle, we headed off to Hastings – which is quite a dreary little seaside town really. The most interesting thing around the seaside were the two short funicular railways that go from sea level to the top of cliffs – one of them is now the steepest in Britain at 78% incline; the tracked submersible tractor unit to launch the Lifeguard’s launch was also of note.

The day following, I eventually got around to packing up the bike & associated gear for the bank holiday weekend & set off to Farnborough to meet Andy – with a fair bit of sitting on the M25 in traffic on the way. After a feed at Andy’s & loading up Andy’s A3 with two bikes & associated gear, food & clothes we were off to Wales for a weekend of riding. The weather forecasted did not look too promising, but the prospect of three days’ worth of riding had us both pretty excited. We stayed in Southgate, on the Gower Peninsula (the UK’s first area of outstanding natural beauty, apparently) just west of Swansea in south Wales – where Andy’s sister, her partner & their daughter live. Andy’s parents have a holiday house just around the corner from Katie, Simon & Amber, so this is where we stayed for the weekend. After reasonable traffic (considering the long weekend) we arrived, unpacked & promptly hit the hay.

Saturday dawned overcast, but dry & shortly Simon had turned up on his bike & Katie pushing Amber in the stroller. At thirteen months Amber is just learning to walk & was quite intrigued by a stranger – so she kept staring at me with her large & gorgeous deep brown eyes. Shortly after, we were out riding & Simon was showing us his local trails around the peninsula. We started off with a nice rocky descent before crossing a road & riding through a group of Scouts setting up camp for the weekend. Most of the riding was out in the open with a mixture of ascents & descents & a bit of ridge riding. Nothing too taxing, but my lack of time on the bike started to show on some of the climbs – there was one good steep one, but at least I wasn’t off pushing this weekend, even if I was in the granny ring. On a good day you can see Devon from the Gower, but it was a bit overcast, so we could only just see back to the Welsh mainland.

Apparently we were in King Arthur territory, so we had to stop for a pint of Double Dragon here:

From here it was only another half an hour or so home. While not a particularly demanding ride on the face of it, it must have been pretty trying for me as I was exhausted for the rest of the day & even had a bit of nap before we headed around to Katie & Simon’s for dinner – where I was feeling so out of sorts I shockingly lost part of my appetite & couldn’t quite finish my meal, weird.

The trail centre at Brechfa is one that Andy had been wanting to ride at for quite some time & Sunday was the day. We started off on the Raven trail that was graded “black/severe” & the signboard feature such glowing descriptions as: “mountain biking to the next level” & “fast, undulating trail that sweeps betweens and flows sinuously in berms and over jumps”. I wasn’t particularly convinced as the trail had a really steep & hard climb at the start on nicely paved singletrack & then the following descent was a slippery rooty affair which didn’t really flow at all. In fact, on this trail it seemed that the price you paid for a lot of climbing was never really repaid by decent descents. A few times I would notice a great singletrack climb to be followed by descending on fireroad – what a waste. Still, at least I wasn’t the guy near the end of the trail with his arm in a sling & a broken collar bone. With all that climbing I was pretty tired (in addition to the previous day’s ride) & spent a lot of time in the granny ring & with Andy waiting for me. Back to the car for lunch & to load up the car again for a few miles’ driving up the valley to the red/difficult graded trail.

The Gorlech trail was about the same length as the Raven trail, but with even more climbing (over 1000m c.f. 725m). Fortunately, this climbing was a lot more manageable & some of the singletrack going up was beautiful winding its way through mossy trees.

We got much more value for our climbing efforts out of this trail & parts of it flowed very nicely & all the berms, step-ups, tabletops & other jumps were great fun. Not to mention every so often popping out of the trees with good views over the valleys (& even some sun, which was much better than the sleet forecast).

The only work in Welsh I learnt all weekend was ‘araf’, which means ‘slow’. Due to the British Health & Safety cotton wool culture, these two words were plastered all over the narrow roads & at any opportunity along the trails – for no good reason. Here is Andy waiting for me again after another great piece of trail.

So my legs managed to survive near on 40 km of riding & about 1800 m of climbing & we didn’t even get all that wet – only a little bit from all the puddles at any dip in the trails. Still it was enough water to mean that I had to pay a little more attention to cleaning my bike that night. A night blobbing in front of the telly – we avoided Welsh TV & some how ended up watching an episode of The Pretender (there really was nothing better on) which took me back about a decade or so (the days when you would record on VCR TV programs to watch later – haven’t done that for ages).

Bank Holiday Monday dawned brilliantly sunny. After sleeping in a bit & tidying up the house at a leisurely pace, Andy took me for a short stroll across the golf course that neighbours the village to the see the ruins of Pennard Castle. A castle has been here since about 1100 & it’s in a great position above some sheer drops, one small problem is that sand blown up on the wind easily builds up against the castle – it was for this reason that the castle was abandoned at the end of the 14th century. The golf course is a real links course – wind-swept, open full of hummocks, hillocks & mounds; however it is a good couple of hundred feet up from the ocean & has commanding views of Three Cliffs Bay below.

Back on the road we headed east towards Port Talbot & its blast furnaces, steelmaking, rolling & finishing plants before we turned up the valley to Afan – one of Wales’ most popular trail centres. As it was a public holiday, there were a lot of people out walking & on all sorts of types & quality of bikes. We did the Y Wal trail, & this proved to be the most enjoyable ride of the weekend. Crossing the river at the bottom of the valley we climbed quite easily for a while – old rail paths always have nice gradients. The steepness stepped up a notch, but even in my state I could manage it in the middle ring – maybe a little bit of strength & fitness was returning to my legs after all – & we managed to pass quite a few groups of riders. Some of climb was on singletrack & it was really quite nice. But what was even better, was that these trail builders had remember to save their best work for the downhill – woohoo! These lived up to the signboard’s claims this time: “some of the best singletrack descents in the UK… fast, open & flowing”. Great fun & in no time at all we were back at the car – three days of good to great riding were over. With the car loaded up again & lunch downed we were back on the M4 fighting the holiday traffic. Countering what is apparently usual, when we crossed the Severn from Wales to England the weather went from good to poor; with a little crawling on the M5 we were soon at Taunton & catching up with John & Anna – Andy had not met the twins, Ester & Lydia, yet. The A303 back to Andy’s was pretty chocka, but my run home up the M3 & around the M25 were unbelievably quick.

The rest of the past week has included Tuesday in Portsmouth (taxi-driver for Trish, who was attending a workshop), a bit of painting of the cattery at Ray & Jill’s, buying travel insurance, walking a good few miles down the Thames from Kew to Putney & the penultimate visit to Andrew & Shelley’s. I’m back round there next week to say goodbye, the only consolation there is the pavalova Shelley has promised to cook – with the Patricks planning on being back in NZ by the time I return to the UK & their wonderful hospitality & friendship, it’s a harder goodbye than most.

Forgot to mention that I got to vote in the general & local elections last week. Not really much of note there – strolled across the road in my slippers to the local primary school, resisted the urge to vote for Napoleon Dynamite of the Loony Party & that was about it really.

around home, family, London, UK

Crossing things off the list

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It’s been another busy couple of weeks as the weather has continued to be fantastic & warming as the days progress. With less than a month left in London, I’ve been trying to complete a few things on my London list. With the Monday before last being such a stunner I wasn’t so keen to spend the day in a museum, so I dug out the ‘Walking London’ book to see which ones I hadn’t yet done. There aren’t many in the central city left, but as there were likely to be fewer tourists around with a lack planes coming to London I hit the Westminster walk – of course most of the places I’d been to before at some time or another & there wasn’t too much new. After lunch it was out further east to Tower Hill & the Wapping to Limestone Walk – most of this one was along the river, but since the book was written many of the old warehouses that were central to trading of commodities such as spices & tea have been redeveloped in to appartments. The most interesting part of this walk was the start of Regent’s Canal – the start of the extensive canal system stretching to the north that was developed before being overtaken by railways. To round the day off, it was back towards Picadilly to try & find the Royal Institution – the organisation made famous by the work, discoveries & lectures of such famous scientists as Davy & Faraday. In the basement there is an excellent little museum detailing the work & importance of what these & other notable scientific figures did at this very place.

I’ve also been back to the RAF museum, which I had a bit more time to peruse at my own rate. The milestones of flight display was fascinating & there were some pretty good planes in the hall too. The Sopwith Camel that was missing from the WWI hall really only reminded me of playing Flight Simulator in black & white on a 386.

There were also a couple of the best WWII fighters on display – a P51& a Me109 – as well as the always appealing V/STOL Harrier.

On the way back in to town on the Northern Line I jumped off at Belsize Park to wander around Kentish Town along the same streets that my great-great-grandparents used to wander around. Of course, their houses are long gone but it was pretty neat to get a very slight idea of the area they lived in. As it was such a beautiful day, I took a short diversion onto Hampstead Heath & up Parliament Hill – where my great-grandmother used to toboggan down in the snow. There was a great view towards the City of London

& after six days of silent skies, international travel was returning to normal operation leaving plenty of vapour trails streaking across the brilliant blue.

That afternoon I met up with a family/school friend from our Papamoa days – I can’t have seen Matt for at least fifteen year, maybe almost twenty since we left Papamoa for Te Puke. Matt has just arrived in London from NZ & he was in the middle of a whirlwind of interviews, while his girlfriend has already started work. It was great to catch up on a lot of what we & our families have been doing for the last decade or so over a couple of pints. Coincidentally, Matt’s brother lives about six hours drive from where I will be in Canada – sounds like a good reason for a road-trip with a bike in the back of the car. Later that night I met (cousin) Chris at Liverpool St station – he is finally back in London with a new two-year visa – & we went for a short architectural waling tour around the St Bart’s/London Wall area of the city before wandering off to Charing Cross. En route to the station, we stopped off for a pint at the Cheshire Cat – a very old pub that was filled with lots of tiny rooms, all with their own bar in them. Dr Samuel Johnson was a regular here & there is a still a very old & large copy of the seventh edition of his dictionary on display (no works by Gertrude Perkins though) – it really was some feat that first dictionary, the pages were large & the print small & still all the definitions of ‘lay’ ran to over a page.

Chris had pointed out the London Museum at London Wall, so on Friday it was back out there after a brief but fruitless visit to the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons. Unfortunately, the second half of the museum was undergoing an extensive revamp so I was only able to get up to the Great Fire in 1666. But what I did see was very interesting – taking one through London from pre-history (when the Thames ran a very different route), the Roman occupation & development, the middle ages – very well presented with all sorts of artefacts. As I strolled around the London Wall I stumbled across a small thoroughfare across a church yard. It was a pleasant spot to have lunch & on one of the walls was many plaques detailing the efforts of certain London around about a century ago who gave their lives trying to rescue fellow Londoners. Most of the people died trying to rescue people from drowning, only to drown themselves; others died rescuing people from burning buildings, out of the paths of horses & carriages – it was quite touching. I continued my day by walking through the City & then further east to Bethnal Green, where I couldn’t quite pin down the places where another of my great-great-grandfathers lived. From Stepney Green I took the tube further east still to Newbury Park – here’s an ironic photo just for Dad.

From here I was quite easily able to find the two houses Mum lived in before she & her family emigrated to Sydney in the mid-’60s. The houses looked pretty much as I imagine they did all those years ago. It was funny to remember back to all the times Mum remarked when driving through new subdivisions in NZ how much all the houses looked the same – it was the same, streets & streets of semi-detached & terraced houses. Still, it was cool to go back & see where the Hinds left almost fifty years ago.

On the way in to catch the train home, I finally managed to get on my eleventh & last tube line – the nothing Waterloo-City line that only has two stops.

The plan for the weekend was to spend the day with the Patricks on Saturday & then ride out to watch the London Marathon. This all changed in a hurry on Saturday morning & I ended up visiting the Patricks for the afternoon & evening, getting beaten again in a game of Knights & Cities. I stayed the night out before driving a few hours west on Sunday morning with bike in the back of the car itching for a good mountain-bike ride on the Quantox with John. With my time in Britain for now running out & John & Anna’s busy life with very young twins this was my only opportunity to get to Taunton & see them & get a good ride in with John. Thankfully, it was a lot warmer than the last time I rode with John (which was pretty much freezing) & the heavy showers that I drove through to get west had pretty much passed through. After a much-too-large barbecue lunch (which I thought was my first of the year, until I remembered the snow barbecue in Canmore in January) we were organised & out riding for two & a half hours on John’s local ride – the Quantocks seems to be a wide expanse of public land, hills just off the coast – one can see across to Cardiff, Swansea & the mouth of the Severn if it’s not really cloudy. We parked at a carpark near the top so the riding consisting of some nice downhills before riding back up to the top & repeating this a few times. I was surprised & pleased (less cleaning) at how dry it was; I was a little tentative to start with some of the more technical downhill parts, but I gradually remembered how to ride a bike & the trails got more flowy & more enjoyable. It was pretty difficult to disguise that I am significantly less fit than John (& he’s one of those singlespeed nutters), but I managed to grovel up the hills eventually. A great ride & always good to see the Lamberts & their growing family (the girls were in much better health than when I last saw them) – I really lucked out meeting John in the Redwoods a few years ago. Monday was a slow cruise back to London – stopped off at Stonehenge on the way, nice day for it & quite interesting & incredible really.

Made a slight detour to Avebury, similar to Stonehenge in that there are really big rocks sticking out of the ground in a circle – but these rocks weren’t quite as big, but the circle was much larger – it seemed to go all the way around the village.

Have been spending quite a few more afternoons in the hospital visiting Nora while she waits for a place in a residential care home. Dementia is pretty depressing (I suppose I was fortunate not to have to cope with my grandmother’s slide – I’m starting to see why it was/is so upsetting for Mum) & it’s hard having to explain every time we visit that we aren’t there to take Nora home & that she will not be going home as she knows it. It’s pretty bleak in the ward as there is little stimulation & most of the patients aren’t up to any rational conversation & you know that a lot of the patients will only leave the ward in the box that one occasionally sees being wheeled in. On a lighter note, I churned through & quite enjoyed the rest of the 44 Scotland St series, even if a couple of the main characters (Bruce & Pat) left noticeable holes in some of the books (3 & 5 respectively). Trish & I are finally heading to Hastings tomorrow (another thing will be gone from the list), & this (long) weekend holds more mountain-biking & my first trip to Wales – can’t wait.

around home, family, friends, history, London, UK

Planes, bikes & houses

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The sky is strangely quiet over London at the moment – as I expect it over much of the rest of the British Isles & parts of Western Europe. I can’t say that I mind too much; but I’m glad I have no plans to go anywhere near an airport in immediate future – for those that were planning on traveling by air, the disruption due to the volcanic ash floating on down from Iceland must be horrific. Two days of closure – unprecedented & surely a right nightmare for travelers & the airlines. On a brighter note with regards to air travel (pending the clearing of the ash in the next four weeks) – the paper work for my application for a one-year working holiday visa to Canada came through a few days ago & I have since booked my flight to Calgary (May 15). It would be fair to say I’m more excited than a “Frenchman who has just invented a pair of self-removing trousers”.

The weather has continued to improve & that has made the days out in the last ten days nicer & in some cases possible. Trish & I have also managed to watch quite a bit of Hornblower, I’ve got hooked on Alexander McCall Smith’s second series of books (the 44 Scotland St series) – set in Edinburgh & full of very interesting interconnected (as I suppose most are in novels) characters in which one often sees parts of one’s self reflected, been sorting a few things out for Canada & we have played quite a few visits to Trish’s mother, Nora, in hospital. Such hospital visits are still consisting of countless games of gin-rummy, which is good for Nora as she remembers how to play & is known to beat us on occasion; sadly, it looks as though she will not be going home after being discharged, rather she will only be discharged when she has a place to go to in a residential care home.

Eltham Palace is but a few miles from home & I had been meaning to visit for some time. Trish & I took the opportunity last Tuesday as the sunny day was good for viewing the extensive gardens. It’s a slightly strange palace, as while it was originally built for Edward IV in the late fifteenth century & Henry VIII spent a lot of his childhood there, it fell in to disrepair in the 1800s (the Great Hall being used as a barn) before Stephen & Virginia Courtauld extensively renovated it in the 1930s. The Great Hall was restored in medieval, the buildings were extended & the exterior kept in the right period, but the inside is a bold mixture of Art Deco, ocean-liner & Swedish styling. It makes for a rather curious contrast – but it’s fantastic. The house has been restored well by English Heritage & they have a lot of the original furniture & paintings. As well as the great design work (the huge glass dome in the entrance foyer is spectacular), the house had a lot of up-to-the-minute technology – underfloor heating, multi-room audio system, central vacuum & an early PABX. As expected, the gardens were beautiful & very pleasant to walk around – there were even some tunnels surviving from four or five hundred years ago.

Battle was to be the next place visited, but as Andrew was taking his two young daughters (Shelley is now back at work two days a week) to see all the planes at the RAF museum in North London, I thought I would tag along & tick that off my list. In the end I only got to half tick it off, as there are so many planes & so much history to read that I still have the Battle of Britain hall & the History of Flight hall to go back & see. The collection of WWI era aircraft was quite fascinating, as it is not so often one sees surviving examples of these plane. A couple of them had no fuselage – just a cockpit, then a big gap & then the tail.

I quite liked the Bomber Hall too; it’s always quite difficult to get photos of planes in museums as it is difficult get far enough away from the planes (particularly bombers) – but here is a Lancaster (WWII) & a Vulcan (built to drop nuclear bombs in the ’50s & ’60s).

There was a good doco film about the Dambuster raids – an event, that if not entirely successful, never fails to catch the imagination. That Barnes-Wallis sure was a smart guy – also was able to appreciate the size of a Grand Slam that he designed (a massive bomb that only specially modified Lancasters could carry that would penetrate deep in to the ground before exploding with earthquake effect – used against infrastructure [bridges & so on]). I was impressed that the girls were so well behaved – hardly heard a peep out of Amelie & Vittoria was able to be amused most of the time, even if she did seem to think she had spent the day looking at dinosaurs. Andrew was pretty good too.

Saturday was perhaps the warmest day of the year so far, & I took the opportunity to go for another ride through the northwest Kentish countryside. I managed a loop down to Shoreham & up the other side of the valley (good views out towards the Thames Estuary), through Eynsford again (brief stop at the ruins of Lullingstone Castle). It was a great day to be out & plenty of other people thought so – a lot of ramblers, people sitting roadside at pubs & it would seem every one in a twenty mile radius with convertible drove past with the top down. I managed about forty kilometres & some reasonable hills in there too – but not particularly long. Along the spine of the hills back down to Eynsford I was intrigued by the sound of a motor behind a large hedgerow – it didn’t sound like farm machinery, more like a circular saw. As I reached a gap in the hedge I spied a group of people gathered in a field for an afternoon of model helicopter flying. At first, the helicopter looked barely in control as the pilot (I suppose you could call him that) took it flew a whole lot of turns, dives, spins, loop-the-loops; but as I watched it fly around in a cloud of smoke the manoeuvrability as it seemed to bounce around on thin air was quite incredible. That’s more than enough of that.

Another outing I had been meaning to go on for a while was to ride to Down House near Biggin Hill. Down House was of course the home of Charles & Emma Darwin for about forty years in the nineteenth century. I went for the just-about-countryside-all-the-way route to get out to Downe & some how managed to get another forty-odd kilometres of road riding in. The house itself is recreated as it was in Darwin’s day downstairs with a lot of original furniture, paintings & decor; while, upstairs is an very good exhibition on the family history, the Beagle voyage & his subsequent work. The garden was also quite interesting (unfortunately a bit of it was closed, so good photos of the house were difficult to take), as quite a few of Darwin’s experiments were done here over many years. It seems Darwin was not the typical Victorian father, so there quite a few amusing family-life anecdotes.