Okay, not exactly a description of a ride, more a declaration, so later on down the line I'll be able to recall it, as my memory is faltering (and I lay the blame for that on my crash last August). I hadn't done the ride for nearly a year, and with my lovely wife away, and the weather set fair – I was off!
Up at 5.10am and on the bike just before 6. Brighton, Lewes, Ringmer, Framfield, Hadlow Down, Mayfield and on to Burwash. Having rested, to take a photo at Burwash's War Memorial, I was perusing the names from those that died in the First- and Second-World Wars, and saw Lt. John Kipling, aged 18. The penny dropped, he being Rudyard's son, as Bateman's is just down the road. Died September 1914. Such a shame. Read other names, and other ages – 18, 19, 20, 22, 26. I can't call them men – they were boys for goodness sakes. Reading these names, of lives have been unnecessarily cut short, dwells on one's mind for some time, and helps focus the need to enjoy and savour one's own life.
Anyway, rode down towards the direction of Bateman's, on what should have been a stone-dry road (like very other road was that day) but God knows why it was gushing with water, slewing down and unavoidable, so I was cursing, getting a soaking, frantically trying to reduce my speed. Where there's a 'down', there's an 'up'. We all know that. And the route I chose had them 'a plenty'. So 'up' out of the bottom of Burwash on Kings Hill Road to Woods Corner, Bodle Street Green, Hurstmonceux, Stunts Green, Marle Green and then to Horam (for a Latte at Wessons, the Biker's Cafe). Then down Thunders Hill and to Lower Dicker. Wend my way down to Wilmington (where The Long Man is) and along to Polegate and then on to Eastbourne. Down to the seafront and up the hill to reach Beachy Head, where I had my banana sandwiches. Then Birling Gap, East Dean, Seaford, Newhaven and home.
On my travels, had a Mummy rabbit dash in front of me with a tiny, tiny kitten in its mouth. And a Fallow Deer with a beautiful spotted baby come across me on another road. The mum successfully leapt the wire sheep fence and vegetation, but the baby was 'boinging boinging' up against it. I couldn't interfere.
No idea how many miles I cycled – maybe 80? Dunno. All I had were some maps, which I used once, remembering the route from before. Cycled under beautiful blue skies, and actually remembered the 'crap-roads' sections, and yes, they're still there. Pot-holes hidden under dappled sunlight – a cyclist's nightmare. Still, that was the only gripe.
