Character Assassination By Proxy

Reading Andrew Sykes book, Good Vibrations: Crossing Europe on a Bike called Reggie, I discovered something about myself. I enjoy it when writers are very rude about someone. Humorously, of course.

It probably speaks volumes about me that my favourite lines in Bill Bryson’s Lost Continent are these:

“I had to calm down because a state trooper pulled up alongside me at a traffic light and began looking at me with that sort of casual disdain you often get when you give a dangerously stupid person a gun and a squad car. He was sweaty and overweight and sat low in his seat. I assume he was descended from apes like all the rest of us, but clearly in his case it had been a fairly gentle slope.”

When I read that last sentence for the first time, I laughed until I cried. I had a guilty enjoyment at just how rude Bryson was being about another person. It still makes me laugh.

Most of the people Andrew meets are very pleasant and civilised. He makes a mildly critical comment about a dull Dutchman called Bob, “I could soon see why he was travelling alone he had yet to learn the ability of having a two-way conversation” but draws back from any really biting comments. I think there was someone else a bit further on, and definitely one person near the beginning who merited a verbal going over, which he did not receive, but Andrew’s restraint over the monster that was Massimo made me feel cheated.

Rain Stops – Play

At last, a bright sunny day and blue skies. Oh how good to be alive.
Yesterday afternoon, the rain slowed from a steady downpour, to a few drips, to the odd patch of blue sky between the grey grey clouds. And suddenly, it was a lovely evening.

Not Cat, who has been getting cabin fever, stayed out until bedtime, and then had to be carried in. He was a happy cat. There’s something of the Puss in Boots about him in this photo.

Vicarious Cycling

OK, I’m going to admit it. I have broken my pledge to cycle every day in April. It has been too darned wet for this fair weather cyclist.

The Bike Less Ridden

But I have spent time on Wiggle, looking at expensive bikes I shall never buy. I am thinking about a basket for my bike and have looked at lots, and even bid for one on eBay. I didn’t get it. I have bought a cover for my cycle helmet so when I do ride in the rain, the water won’t come through the slits and drip down my neck or into my eyes.

It isn’t so much the getting wet I mind, though dripping through a day at work is obviously far from ideal. It’s the puddles of unknown depth and hidden dangers that spool out from blocked drains; the soaking by joyful and mindless drivers who surge through those same puddles, throwing enough water into the air to fill a bath; the pedestrians who step out wielding umbrellas like sabres and who run murderously into my path.

So, I’ve settled for cycling vicariously. I am reading Andrew Sykes book Good Vibrations: Crossing Europe on a Bike Called Reggie. I bought the Kindle version. Now I have my smartphone, I’ve downloaded the Kindle app, which makes for handy reading in the bus.

Bring Back the Tufty Club

When I was a child, I was a member of the Tufty Club. It was about being safe on the road; knowing and using the kerb drill; being aware of possible dangers. Quite why a red squirrel should have been chosen to epitomise good pedestrian practice, I can’t imagine. I never did my cycling proficiency. It was one of those things I heard about, but never saw where I could do it. I learned to drive, in London, in my twenties.

In the wake of the intemperate remarks by John Griffin of Addison Lee I have been reflecting on my walking, cycling and driving experiences in London. The things that frighten me most as a pedestrian frighten me the most when I am on two wheels or four. I have also been considering his remark about grannys on bikes, and the lack of outrage at his words. He has simultaneously and gratuitously insulted women and older people. Though there are some pretty young grannys out there. Homophobia and racism are widely and rightly condemned. How about making ageism and sexism history.

Top of my fear list are drivers using handheld mobile ‘phones. Especially those driving lorries. I have a grudging admiration for their dexterity as I cannot imagine how they do it.

Unchained Velocipedes

You don’t have to look far to find some unroadworthy bikes. Maybe some are the victims of a loss of interest.

I used to see one regularly, always in the same place, apparently abandoned. The sad thing was, the bell proudly proclaimed, “I love my bike.” As the months went by, you could almost see the bike curling up in lonely shame; its merry basket dull and dusty; its saddle dry and cracked.Then a notice appeared on it from the authorities warning of its removal in ten days if unclaimed. It went. Whether the owner took it, or it has been auctioned to someone new, I do not know.

Another, glossily expensive and aluminium, was chained outside a pub for weeks. I wondered if the owner had forgotten where he’d left it.

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April

At last, April is here and I can post this famous poem by famous poet and Peckham boy, Robert Browning.
Then I am doing the washing up after my early lunch, buying some fruit, and going for a spin on on my bike on this beautiful day.

In Praise of Bicycles

I am finally back on my bike. My foot is healed, and my trapped nerve is become freer. While pedal-deprived, I took an awful lot of pictures of other people’s bikes. A psychologist might have a few observations. London is full of bikes. They are everywhere, and with the spring sun shining its head off, saddles have been dusted off and tyres inflated once more. At work, after winter months of being spoiled for choice, and settling on a favourite bike rack, I find myself deposed, and having to search out a space.
So, consider these photos a personal homage au vélo; a celebration of the urban bicycle. And London looks pretty good in the sunshine too.

Sunday Cyclists

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Cool Wheels

When did bikes become cool again?

I thought it tonight when some young men, with a couple of token young women, pedalled smoothly and sociably by the river, negotiating pedestrians and other obstacles with practised ease.

I thought it the other day when I took photos of these bikes, available for hire near Trafalgar Square,

Spotted!

Who is the man on the left, all wrapped up in today’s sunshine, wearing an unattractive woolly hat as he walks away from his bike at the Elephant and Castle?

It’s Boris Johnson, Mayor of London, old Etonian, and tipped by some to be a future prime minister of this country. His quality suit under that dingy mac caught my attention as he locked up his rather nice bike. I was on the bus and rummaged for my ‘phone.

Not wearing a helmet please note.