My converts live on....

Reg is still at my parents' house so I remain bikeless. There is also another problem. Eeenie weenie does NOT like exercise.

He or she has decided to make me so exhausted I can barely walk home from the station, let alone get on two wheels every day. Stairs render me breathless and t's very irritating. I'm most annoyed because I've always thought that the attitude that pregnant women shouldn't cycle is completely wrong and I was hoping to be a good example. Sigh.

However, while I stew in annoyance over my forced exile onto public transport, I have been greatly cheered by news from those I have or am hoping to convert.

TM is a former colleague (pre-work woes). On mentioning he quite fancied giving cycling to work a go I pointed him firmly in the direction of the Ride to Work scheme and he promptly bought a Brompton. He fell in love with it and, as luck would have it, there was a tube strike shortly after his purchase. He used the LCC bike tube to get to an important meeting in town and hasn't looked back. As well as commuting he recently took part in the Brompton World Championships. Wonderful!

The lovely S trekked out to my new office to say hello on a day off a couple of weeks ago. She's still cycling and is, in fact, encouraging others to do so. In a recent email she gaily told me that she was buying her husband a bike, as he had been inspired by her enthusiasm and fancied giving it a go. Rather than get the bike delivered, she had decided to venture out to an area she'd not been to before to collect said bike and cycle it home. Hurrah!

Moomin has ordered her new bike after the theft of her old one but, not being able to wait, has been using Roger and Reg while they've been stored at her house. My sister, who had an unfortunate accident as a child while on a bike, has also decided to give cycling a go and I have decided to give Roger to her to cycle to vet school and back. Marvellous!

I'm aiming to cycle to music school with my sister on Saturday if Eenie is amenable but even if I can't it makes me glow to know there are cyclists in London enjoying bikes and that I, in a small way, encouraged or helped them to do it. Sigh.

Roger was back!

And has now gone again....

My younger sister has decided she fancies giving cycling a go, so Roger was brought home briefly and then cycled over the my parents' house for her to experiment on.

Reg went too as we're having a new sofa delivered today and his presence in the stairway would have restricted the deliverers' ability to get it up to the living room.

I've not used Reg for a while and it was nice to pedal him even a short distance. Moomin was cycling Roger and manfully refused to let me put the seat down. As she's a good four inches shorter than me it led to a lot of giggling along the way. Her legs were at full tilt at the bottom of the pedal rotation and she looked a bit like she was riding a clown bike.

Hopefully Reg, Roger, and younger sis will all be cycling to music school on Saturday. Fingers crossed!

Victory for me, not for Mr Weenie

Last night I had one of those sweet sweet moments that occasionally crop up when you commute by bike.

Between Shepherd's Bush and Acton a guy on a phone swerved left and nearly hit me as I came back. He was a youngish bloke and, in response to my shout of 'Watch it you idiot!', he and his passenger waved with saccharine smiles. I waved back with a similar smile and a slightly different gesture. They laughed and apologised, I laughed and thought nothing of it.

It was a popular model silver car so when I passed it the first time I barely registered it. He overtook again but I definitely noticed when I passed it again a mile later. I didn't see him again for a couple of miles and assumed he'd turned off.

I got to west Ealing and, while stopped at traffic lights, two familiar faces peered out from the car next to me and waved, giggling. The window was rolled down, I couldn't resist: 'About time! Where the hell have you guys been?'

The reply came: 'Naaaah man! How many gears have you got on that thing?!'

I shouted back '24' before pedalling off while they stayed stuck in the traffic queue. I didn't see them again and arrived home triumphant.

Car stomping weenie-style.

In other news though, Mr Weenie came off Roger this morning. He snapped the pedal and has grazed his right side on his arm, leg and knee. Luckily, however, he was wearing the cycle mitts I bought him for our anniversary and his hands were spared. Phew!

Shiny shiny and Roger's home!

Mr Weenie has been warned repeatedly about not using my bath products. I often get given sparkly products and he has emerged with an unhealthy sheen several times. Last night though, things went to a whole new level.

Last night he used whet he thought was a bath bomb but was, in fact, a Lush Shimmy Shimmy bar. As a result he has glitter chemically welded to him. We've tried everything to get it off. In addition, everything he touches shines, the sofa, the bed, the cats, you name it. Sigh.

Mr Weenie's arm:














More importantly, Roger is home!

Mr Weenie has decided to start riding him locally and he cam home yesterday. His gears are still a bit out and his front wheel's still got that slight buckle but he's still sexy.

In celebration I took the 10-mile route to work this morning. I was knackered again yesterday so only came halfway to work but with the sun out and blue skies this morning I threw caution to the wind. It was gorgeous. There's nothing like cycling along the Thames when the sun's out. Bliss.

In other news....

A round-up of other exciting things while I was off:

• I went on a canal towpath for the first time since my fall last year. It was a stretch between Greenford and Alperton. I was seriously crapping myself but was determined to do it and survived. Beautiful herons and sunshine went unnoticed in my terrified state.
  
• I managed to half-swallow then cough up an enormous fly and it survived! A black cabbie behind me when I started to cough and splutter pulled over to check I was ok as I came to an abrupt halt and was hugely amused when I managed to say 'The little b*stard's still alive!' before pedalling off.
• Mr Weenie is considering cycling a bit locally and has asked to use Roger. Hurrah!
• My cycle map of France arrived so I can start planning my holiday, which will involve taking bikes on a ferry and cycling in Normandy.
• I had a marvellous jazz session with the boys for this Saturday's gig and spent a blissful two hours singing mostly about how rubbish men are.
  

One whole year canal-free

Yes, it's been one whole year since the infamous canal fall.

The memories......

The big reunion....

My darling Roger and I were reunited last weekend.

In preparation for the big move I cycled him to our storage garage so he could be safely stowed away. It was wonderful to be back on him, but felt utterly bizarre.

He's soooooo sit up and beg, I felt like a lady on him. I'd forgotten what a bent handlebar felt like. His seat was a squishy cushion in comparison to Reg's hard racer and my bottom didn't know what had hit it. His tires were enormous, at least 35mm and in desperate need of reinflation after a few months out of action. I cleaned and oiled him before storing him completely out of reach of the rain so after a quick pump he was ready to go.

Looking at the speedometer I was horrified as the number 15.5 popped up. It was a couple of miles before I remembered that his speedo was set to miles instead of Reg's kilometers.

His frame's a lot longer than Reg's and, in fact, I felt slightly less stable on Roger but I was a little welled up with emotion at the thought of us being together again. I was on his top gear for most of the journey and I giggled at the thought that I had started so low down on the gears when I started cycling. We got to the garage and he was carefully tucked in by Mr Weenie.

I was drawn back into memories of our first trips together, the wobbly progress we made as I took my first tentative pedals. The canal fall, the first endless trip all the way to work, my first trips into central London and the long trips that were desperate attempts to knacker myself out and counter the insomnia of worry when my dad was ill.

Roger was a cheapo starter hybrid and Reg is a flash roadie but I love them both the same and for very different reasons.

What a diva

For the third time since April I think Reg has a puncture.

And again I yearn for the plodding Roger, his fuss-free approach, his accepting nature (you want to go on that bumpy towpath? Let's go!), and most of all his tyres.

Reg's road slicks may be fast but they eat glass. I picked four pieces out of his back tyre this morning as I was checking whether the pressure had gone down. I don't think they'd gone all the way through but God only knows. I'll be doing a full inspection at lunch time. I wouldn't mind if it was just that, but his shudders when we go over bumpy surfaces, his abject refusal to do anything as crude as a towpath, his grumpy slides over wet manhole covers. He's just such a diva.

Good job he's so handsome.

The new arrival

So last night I picked up Reg, my God it was exciting.

He's got paper thin wheels and is in another league from Roger. He whizzes along, has grip shifts instead of thumb and has toe clips (which I'm slowly getting used to). He's incredibly light (panniers haven't arrived yet) and in the wind it can get a bit dicey.

The wheels being so thin was a bit of a worry at first but I actually feel quite stable even when going slowly and going over speed bumps is not the harrowing experience I anticipated.

That said I wasn't expecting such a radical change. Reg was listed as a hybrid but only his flat handlebars allude to this description. He goes so fast that it can be a bit disconcerting and with a less experienced rider could cause problems.

Joyfully it also means that I'll definitely be using Roger periodically as there are some instances in which Reg will not be a good fit for. Seriously wet roads, high winds and anything remotely off-road will be his domain still.

I love both my boys and although Reg is hugely handsome in a sexy and sleek way, Roger is still my rugged and rough round the edges sweetheart.

Preparation for handover

On Saturday Roger took me to music school. Then I bought a new cycle cleaning brush set, and did the full job of soapy water, rinsing, white spirit, drying etc and he looks fabulous. It was with great pride that I noted the complete lack of rust on his chain and gears (I often see other people who cannot claim this honour), I used expensive water-repellent lubricant and buffed his frame. I cleaned his tires and picked out any grit. In short, I gave him the bicycle equivalent of a spa day.

Then I locked him up and he remains where I put him. Ready for Mr Weenie to use him whenever he wants to.

This morning I took public transport as I'm planning (and hoping) to pick up the new bike this evening. I'm still undecided on what to call him. I may just call all my bicycles Roger, I like the name and my friends and family are now fully accustomed to the phrase 'I'll take Roger' as an indication that I'll be cycling. But I'm still slightly inclined to call the next one Reg as Roger has a very special place in my heart. To be honest I don't think I'll know until the handover has taken place. Sigh.

In other news a friend has bought a Pashley Poppy. It's bright pink, single gear and it's gorgeous. I may be committed to practicality, but my God I'm jealous. I've been promised a viewing when it arrives. Obviously she's not going to RIDE it. Heavens no, a bike such as this one is to be admired, polished and fussed over. Proof if proof was needed that cycling can bring out the lady in all of us.

It's all in a name

You know what, forget this Reg business, I think I may just call my new bike Roger as well. None of this Roger two business, just Roger. After all it's a good name for an inanimate object and I like it, screw it!

It is done.

I've ordered Roger's replacement and I feel wretched.

I am a horrible person for loving the new one so much even though he's not yet arrived. Emily was unavailable so Reg made the cut. He's a gorgeous black Specialized Sirrus and I feel like I've abandoned a plodding but reliable lover for someone dangerous but exciting.

Reg is another hybrid but has thinner tires and is a bit racier than Roger so he's the stepping stone to a road bike. I decided that a road bike is just unachievable given the road surfaces near my house. Unlike Roger, however, Reg will have a rack and panniers on top of the legal requirement of lights and a bell , I'll also be buying some winter tights (thank you Ride 2 Work, possibly one of the government's most underrated and fabulous schemes ever).

Although I'm super excited about the new addition to the family I'm also worried about bringing him home. The official line is that Roger is going into semi-retirement as Mr Weenie plans to use him occasionally and I expect I'll also want to from time to time. I worry he'll be left behind, but I'm hoping he'll be ok and enjoy hanging out at home.

I have to pull myself together, walking back from the shop Guns and Roses' 'Don't You Cry Tonight' came on my shuffle and I actually listened to it. And now I'm demolishing a whole pack of cookies.

Sheesh, get a grip girl!

The new bike, the saga continues....

After loudly asserting my need for a road bike I think I'm going to get a hybrid. Roger's wheels are no longer the even round shape they once were because of the awful roads near me and, frankly, he's comfy and solid with no finicky demands.

He runs better after a good clean but will happily continue his loyalty if I leave him all muddy and neglected. He shrugs off deep potholes and nasty speedbumps and he loves the occasional foray onto grass. That's the kind of bike I want. Not only that but I'm actually considering a lady bike as there's a nippy hybrid that comes in a ladies' extra large. She's pretty but sturdy and would look good with a rack on and possibly some butterfly bars.

I think she'd be a good compromise and a welcome addition to the family. We shall have to see if she's the right fit though. I shall call her emily if she makes the cut.

Roger and I are going into London again tonight. We may cycle all the way home, we may take the train part of the way but whatever we do it'll be quicker than only taking the tube. Every time I ride him now I feel guilty. He doesn't even know what's coming. Sigh.

The tiny world of central London

I live in zone 4. This means it takes me around an hour and a half to get into central London by public transport. Yesterday though, the scales dropped from my eyes. The big secret is that once you're in central London, nowhere's very far away!

Roger and I have taken the overland train to Paddington before (he likes trains) and bobbed across Hyde Park to Victoria but this time we went to Oxford Street to check out the Cyclodelic gear being sold in Topshop.*

It was crazy traffic heavy but also crazy fun and took about 10 minutes from Paddington to Oxford Street if you take out me getting a bit lost on the way. Who knew that central London was so tiny?! I was scooting around like nobody's business and the most shocking thing is that I then cycled all the way home.

It took nearly an hour and a half but, frankly, it was nicer than barging my way through bank holiday tube crowds and now I feel all self-righteous. I've been converted, I love cycling in central London.

What I hate is the parking. Once you're off the main drag there's bugger all in terms of official cycle racks. Street furniture's lovely but I was lucky I carried two loops AND a D-lock.

*Cyclodelic stuff was quite trendy and far sexier than most ladies' cycle gear but at those prices and a range as wide as a gnat's knee-cap it's a huge missed opportunity. Good for birthday pressies though... hint hint.

The rights and lefts

Yesterday I got beeped and sworn at for being on the very far right of three lanes of traffic. I think the words were along the lines of 'Get out of the f*cking way' and 'Use the f*cking cycle lane' but I can't be sure as the man was inside his nice warm car with the windows shut. I was battling wind and rain in the outdoors and concentrating on the road.

I was on the right side because I was about to turn right, and, as the last person to go through the traffic lights, had used the lack of traffic behind me to cross the lanes a bit earlier than usual rather than having to dodge countless cars, possibly get in lots of people's way and risk life and limb. I'd then tucked in on the far right hand side next to the central embankment rather than take up a full lane so cars could get by easily.

Now, call me crazy, but I don't think I was being unreasonable, I don't think I was in the way, I think that driver should have just tootled round me instead of being rude, I think his swearing over nothing (there was very light traffic and the two other lanes were empty) was incredibly rude and constituted harrassment.

More importantly, I know that he broke the law because horns are only to be used legally if someone's life is in danger, whereas I am not legally obliged to use the cycle lanes provided, particularly when I need to turn right, and did nothing wrong.

What a ****.

Camping and a killer BMW

Having sore knees and then going camping is a bit of a pants idea. I know this because after being in pain last week I went on a music weekend avec tent.

Ow. My knees are really sore now. My head hurt too for a while but I think that may have been the combination of red wine and Gilbert and Sullivan in quick succession. JAM! BUN! JAM! BUN!

And I'd forgotten the exciting machine gun rattle of rain on a tent. And the intimacy and subsequent awkwardness of impromptu spooning (through sleeping bags) when you slide down the hill into your tent mate while asleep. And the rule of never looking up when you're in the loos or the showers. Eek!

Oh well, at least it ended up being super sunny and it was super fun. Not like this morning. Eugh. I decided to at least go halfway despite the weeing rain and was tootling along in a cycle lane near Northfields when a BMW coming the other way decided to turn a sharp right and nearly hit me. It wasn't totally the car's fault as the Beemer's view was blocked by the very heavy traffic but the driver was going a bit quickly and I did do a bit of a rabbit trick as I braked sharply but because of the wet road surface ended up stopping right in front of the car with my shoe resting on its bumper.

After being sworn at I carried on (very slowly) but I was more than a little shaken. I then stopped for a little bit to recover before heading off because I was a little wobbly. I was then late for work, which is a bit rubbish.

A new addition and the road-hybrid dilemma

A new bike is in the offing and I think I want a roadie. But Mr Weenie is adamant that I should just get a better hybrid.

I love Roger, let me make that clear, but the fact is that I go on his top gear a lot and could probably go faster than he can. Plus I do almost exclusively road cycling after the canal incident.

My other problem is that I've fallen for a bike that costs just over £500. Hmmmmmm, the reaction to trying it out was almost sexual.

Mr Weenie's arguments that road wheels may buckle on the crappy asphalt I'm forced to ride on, that they're less stable than hybrids and may be more dangerous and that the kind of person who falls into canals shouldn't have a bike with paper thin wheels are valid. But.....

I WANT A ROAD BIKE!!!!!

I want a bike that goes faster, I'm considering doing a charity ride sometime in the future that may need that kind of bike and I WANT ONE.

I may compromise on a cheaper road bike and some accessories for Roger for when I'm doing slower but longer distances. I'll let you know.

Courtesy bings

Should overtaking involve courtesy bings? It's a serious issue and can't be taken lightly.

I'm for binging but I acknowledge it's not always practical. Technically a legal requirement for road bikes is a bell so we should all be capable of binging. So why don't people do it?

I've nearly hit many a cyclist who has whizzed past in the guise of silent death as a tootle along. If a courtesy bing had been provided death would not have come so close. A friend came a cropper this morning because she wasn't aware of a fellow cyclist attempting to overtake. Because of sod's law, she came off and he didn't.

I often bing pedestrians on cycles tracks to warn them of my approach and to tell them to move the hell out of the way because they're taking all the motherf*cking space. Somehow a bing is so much more genteel than articulating such thoughts....

In other news Roger may be expanding his travel experience to the wilds of High Wycombe. He loves trains.

Oh and Mr Weenie's laughing at my red and puffy progress up local hills is NOT appreciated. Harumph.

Roger goes to town

I went to see a friend in the wilds of Croydon this weekend (well, the edges of Croydon, is quite pretty there). Last time it took just over two hours to get there and about three to get back because of train delays and slogging around on the tube. This time I had Roger with me.

I popped to my local station, took Roger to Paddington, hopped across Hyde Park to Victoria, parked Roger and got the train to my friend's local station. Then I did it in reverse on the way back.

I got a bit lost on the way to Victoria (the Hyde Park cycle system is bizarre and there's loads of one-way roads everywhere else) so it took me about two hours from start to finish but, on the way back, I had a revelation. It took me an hour and a half in total. Half the time it took last time, and this time I got to cycle through Hyde Park in the sun. It was lovely.

Roger came out again on Sunday but it was less enjoyable. Doing shopping with a rucksack's horrible. It's heavy, cumbersome and on each bend you expect your eggs to break. Plus the freezer section is a little goosebumply....

Pothole traffic calming

Roger finally got the hot water, soap, white spirit, rinse, dry, oil, water-repellant lubricant treatment last night and is now looking splendid and gliding along smoothly. It's wet though, so it won't last, especially given the puddle-strewn surface of the Uxbridge road. The puddles are mainly caused by potholes, those 'natural traffic calming measures' so loved by an obscure parish council that's hit the headlines.......

I already know of one person who successfully sued Ealing council over a pothole. It buckled a wheel and, because of laws governing how long very deep holes can be left unfilled, Ealing Council were liable. They hired expensive lawyers to try and beat the case but my friend still won. That's why the idea that they're acceptable is so absurd. They cost money to fill but they also cost taxpayers' money if they damage people's vehicles and cycles.

With the rain they add a new and exciting dynamic to road cycling, will it be an inch deep, will it be several? Filled with water it's impossible to tell.....

I have no mudguards so my bottom gets drenched every time I hit a puddle, it's deeply unpleasant (picture switching on a powerful bidet only to discover the boiler's exploded and the only water available is glacier melt) and, if you go partway and then get on the tube, you're afraid to sit down lest you leave a wet patch and people assume you've wet yourself. This alone is probably grounds to sue as it's hugely traumatic.

Still more fun than freezing and getting wet at a bus stop though......