New Year's Day

1 It's a recent innovation, you know, prompted by a desire to keep in step with European practice. Before the change, the year began on 25 March, a sensible date for the beginning of spring. And winter? Well, Christmas marked the beginning of winter, an opportunity to have a bit of a rave-up in preparation for the snow. If we had to start the year on the first of a month, then 1 March would have been a good choice. So would 1 April. Begin the year with spring. Still, I suppose we're stuck with the change. We'll just have to get on with it.

2 I marked the first day with a bike-ride, one, during which, everything worked. Eventually, that is. The thighs hurt as I cycled up to Saint Hill Green and then up to Sharpthorne. From there the downward glide to Horsted Keynes helped.

2.1 The trains were running. There was a fire in the entrance hall. And the buffet was open. A fine cup of tea. Then the train from Kingscote, puffing dark smoke, arrived in platforms 4 and 5. ('The train arriving in platforms 4 and 5 is coming in sideways'.) The train from Sheffield Park, arriving just a few minutes later, was accommodated in just one platform. Two puffing trains, both well-laden.

2.2 I thought about the achievement of Bluebell Railway Ltd. The company runs trains all the year round. It maintains its permanent way and the stations. It has extensive workshops at Sheffield Park. It produces high-quality brochures. And it's all done by voluntary labour. I wondered about the engine-driver, about the training, about the rules, and about the continuous assessment. I wonder how he handles the question 'What's your job?'. And the guard, a man who looked every inch a guard, someone who swished his green flag with a flourish. Swish.

2.3 Away with no settled notion of what I would do at the cross-roads. Of course, it was too early to turn towards Ardingly; the turn was towards Lindfield, and so the thighs were tested again at a sharp incline, which brings an unsuspecting cyclist, in the wrong gear, to a halt. Even a cyclist in the right gear has to work it.

2.4 To LIndfield, and then the sharp turn towards Ardingly. 'Hey, what's going on?, I called out, silently, as I drove the bike up the incline by the golf club. The long pull past the school to the village. On my own, I walked along the path which runs parallel with the high road and by which a line of houses, tucked away from traffic and noise, stands. The peace comes at a cost: no garages. To Turners Hill, onwards to Grawley Down, to Felbridge, along the back road to home.

2.5 Forty-one kilometres. Kilometres, you ask. Yes, the numbers go round quicker.

3 I mentioned that everything worked. The day was cool, with the possibility of rain. But the rain held off, whilst the old cycling jacket was snug and was resistant to the wind. And the legs worked. Once they started, they kept going. Old jacket, old legs, old(ish) bike - they all worked.

4 What's this all about? Be indulgent. It's the first day of the year. Give space to an elderly blogger.

5 Meanwhile, you've completed your silent phase. You're back in communication. You'll have much to say. So where will you begin? At the beginning.

Happy New Year

Don