Basket case

For some years one has been a two-bike family, with two intimate rider/machine relationships  co-existing happily.

My doughty 23-year-old Dawes Galaxy had a fair amount of exposure throughout this year's Summer Cycling Saga.

Time, I guess, for a nod towards my fab stay-at-home steed: a stalwart Pashley, British to its core, on which I ride to work, potter around town, run errands, and never, ever break sweat.

The sensible chain guard ensures office clothes remain grime-free - and the sit-up-and-beg riding position provides excellent vision and visibility.

Gears? Sturmey Archer three-speed. What else?

The capacious basket (supplemented by trap-grip rear bracket) provides ample stowage for the post-shopping journey home.

And while on the subject of the basket...

In town with the Pash some years ago, I ran in to an acquaintance. As our brief conversation ended she commented on the bike - with gratifying admiration. And then she moved on to, er,  admiring me.

'You must be very confident in your masculinity - riding a bicycle with that big basket on the front.'

I was at a loss for an appropriate response - until about twenty minutes later, by which time I was at home, when I remembered the name under which said baskets are marketed. The moniker harks back to the days when our towns where a-whizz with cycling delivery boys. 

So my reply should have been: 'Oh really? Well, that must be why it's called a butcher basket...'

The trees are singing

To Hereford and the Cathedral Close, to view Jemma Pearson's rather wonderful sculpture of Edward Elgar who lived in the town shortly before WW1.

Cycling attire has come a long way since the de rigeur Edwardian costume of tweedy jacket, plus-fours and boots. One feels that, compared to contemporary Lycra, EE's stylish 'look' has much to recommend it.

In the manner of the new Betjemann sculpture at St Pancras Station, this is very much a 'site specific' work - with the cathedral dramatically involved as Elgar, manuscript notebook in hand, gazes up at its tower.

Pearson has lovingly recreated Elgar's splendid Sunbeam cycle, which he nicknamed 'Mr Phoebus'. Such is the attention to detail that one can identify the saddle as manufactured by Brooks, the ne plus ultra of cycle saddlery.

I'm more than a little excited to discover that, in terms of personal comfort a-wheel, the great composer and I have so much in common.

The plinth carries the inscription: 'This is what I hear all day - the trees are singing my music - or am I singing theirs?'

Later I was delighted to discover that the cycle shop, pictured below continues to flourish close by. This unashamedly old-fashioned establishment may well have been trading in Elgar's day.

It was certainly going strong in 1987 when I purchased from it my Dawes Galaxy (complete with Brooks saddle).

Said bike has just been through its umpteenth service and is girding its bottom bracket for a major ride in 2010. Watch this space.

The wrong trousers....

Persistent pedagogue Mr Gnome is forever emphasizing the importance of giving credit where it's due. Hence today's story.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that conventional male trousering is unsuitable for cycling, particularly when astride a drop-handlebar machine as pictured above (my 22-year-old Dawes Galaxy).

It's a pocket-design thing. Stuff falls out. Sensible people wear specialist clothing - or empty their pockets prior ro departure.

No prizes for guessing that, when pedalling the short distance to work today, I chose to ignore this wise counsel, absent-mindedly bunging my wallet in my trouser pocket as I left the house.

I didn't notice that the wallet was missing until lunchtime, whereupon I abandoned myself to a protracted bout of searching, wailing and self-recrimination.

Next I picked up the phone and cancelled my cards.

And then my phone rang.

A charming woman informed me that her son had found my wallet and had identified me as its owner thanks to presence within of my change-of-address card. It was awaiting collection at her house.

So in the wonderful economy of human interchange, my act of foolishness was countered by a deed of straightforward honesty and kindness.

Hence the fact that I'm celebrating the integrity of one local teenager, and of the family and school that have helped to shape those values in him.

I wouldn't dream of embarrassing him by mentioning his name. But here's a link to his school.

Thank you very much.

Black bikes can be green...

A fan of all things 'green', Mr G is particularly keen on the splendid bicycles created by the firm of Pashley.

Sturdy, elegant and retro-tastically chic, a Pashley offers a comfortable, clean alternative to the 'boy racer' models of today.

And, don't get him started, Mr G could rhapsodize at length on the benefits of the Brookes leather saddle that is standard issue with each Pash.

Hurrah!

Check 'Links' for, er, links!