April 22, 2014
So I’ve been in the local paper for my cycle campaigning activities and one of the nice side effects is people I know emailing me to tell me they’ve seen it and encouraging me to continue with my efforts. What’s interesting is how many of them also go on to apologise for not personally riding a bike much themselves – usually because they tell me they’re too scared. I suppose that, unversed in the subtleties of the various approaches to cycle campaigning, they imagine that what I’m trying to do is encourage people to get out on their bikes and discover for themselves the joys of cycling – the wind in your hair, the flies in your teeth, the huge shot of adrenaline that comes from having a timber lorry overtake you on a road that’s about as wide as a timber lorry. That sort of thing.
In fact, although I’m always delighted when someone decides they want to ride a bike, and very willing to encourage them – at least until they take out a restraining order to stop me – that’s not really what we’re about with Pedal on Parliament. Nor are we campaigning on behalf of current cyclists particularly, although it would be nice if people would stop driving into them. In fact, it’s exactly the people who tell me that they’re too scared to cycle that I’m campaigning for, whether they like it or not. Apart from anything else, they’ve generally got a better idea of what it takes to create mass cycling than half the traditional campaigners do: as one friend put it, until she doesn’t have to worry about mixing with lorries, we’ll never see her on a bike. Of course that may have been her version of ‘until Hell freezes over’, but I’m choosing to take her literally and/or call her bluff. It will take me a while, but until we can create the conditions for even ‘cowards’ to cycle, we won’t see cycling taking off in this country, how ever much encouraging I do. Although I can’t do much about the insects in the teeth part, I’m afraid. (And if that’s all too flippant for you, I’ve written something rather more earnest on the subject for the Pedal on Parliament site.)
Back to ford updates, mild gardening peril and pictures of scenery soon, I promise
April 20, 2014
We’ve been wondering when ‘our’ swallows would reappear after the winter. I’ve seen them swooping overhead when out on the bike, sometimes quite close to home, but there’s been no twittering presence on the wire outside the house – and no rapid darting in and out of the window of the swallow shed. Despite always sending many freshly minted swallows off to Africa in the autumn, such is the mortality rate that there’s no guarantee any of them will return, so this time of year is always tinged with a little anxiety.
So we were pleased when – sitting outside on the bench enjoying a cup of tea and a shared Easter egg with a visitor this afternoon – he suddenly clapped his hand to his head and looked up ruefully at the swallow perched on the wire strategically placed above his seat. The swallow soon shot off to check out the nesting sites within the shed, where we hope it will soon be joined by many others. And our visitor? He’s gone off to get himself a lottery ticket while his luck holds…
April 19, 2014
I had a day trip to Newcastle today which meant setting off for the station with frost still thick on the grass, for all the bright promise of the morning sunshine. The Toon itself was distinctly nippy with a sharp wind blowing in from the North Sea and the various stag and hen parties making their way along the river front looked as if they regretted going for the matching t-shirts/comically brief dresses, at least until they’d got enough alcohol on board to stop caring. I was feeling fairly smug at having dressed sensibly until I realised that I’d lost one of my favourite gloves, a gift from the other half and rather spiffy with rabbit-fur lined (don’t write in) cuffs, which I’d successfully managed to avoid losing for two years – something of a record for me. One was restored to me, having been found on Bigtown station platform and kept for my return, but the other has vanished, to join my last two hats and at least four right hand gloves (I never lose the left-hand ones for some reason) in the great lost-property office in the sky…
Fortunately, by the time I came to ride home this afternoon the sun had done its work and it was warm enough to ride home bare handed. It’s not *quite* taps aff yet, but from the reddened shoulders I passed on my way home there has been some reckless clout casting going on in Bigtown today, May be out be damned. And as we’re all apparently desperately vitamin-D deprived at this time of year, perhaps it’s no bad thing…
April 17, 2014
No, not bikes, for once, although there is a parallel. This week I’ve been attempting to do All The Gardening (along with the last frantic week of Pedal on Parliament organising) as I try and catch up from our sodden winter and my busyness and get everything in the ground while I have the chance. Yesterday, as I was reminding myself how back-breaking potato planting was, the landlord gave me a last chance to take over the remaining vegetable plots in the walled garden before they were grassed over (the landlord’s veg production having been moved to raised beds nearer the house). Despite the fact that I already have more garden than I can really handle – and we now grow pretty much all the veg that we can reasonably eat, without extending the season with a poly tunnel – I was briefly tempted.
Ooh look, all rotavated and raked and everything. Shiny…
Clearly to a gardener, an extra patch of land is just as enticing as a new bike is to a cyclist. Sure, you have all the bikes you need, and not enough shed for another… but … shiny. Especially if the alternative is for the bike – or the garden – to be scrapped. The plots in the walled garden have been cultivated for decades and while they’re not being permanently lost, it does seem a shame that nobody is prepared to take them on. For one mad moment I did think about a career in market gardening but then I looked at the state of my own plot and came to my senses.
Meanwhile, back in reality
In other news, the first parsnip emerged today. Time to get the slug traps down before munching begins.
Parsnip seedling. I include this photo as a service to all those who arrive at my blog having searched for photos of parsnip seedlings, as happens regularly at this time of year. Weed seedlings look very similar…
And we learned that pheasants and greenhouses don’t mix.
April 15, 2014
It’s a tough life, but today I had to add a few extra miles to my route back from Bigtown after yoga to deliver some Pedal on Parliament flyers to a local cafe and farm shop. The sun was blazing down* and dazzlingly bright, but I battled on up hill and down dale, stopping only for a cold drink and a a rest once I had arrived there.
The hedgerows are full of green and blossoms and the skies were full of singing larks, but the trees remain resolutely wintry. We’re not there yet, not quite. There’s still springing to be done…
Sometimes it’s hard work bringing about safer cycling in Scotland, but someone’s got to do it…
* you may laugh, but I had not really factored in the insulating effect of having my yoga leggings on under my normal trousers and I was genuinely boiling by the time I got there and was able to do a quick change routine in the loo. It was so hot I even considered nipping behind a bush and just continuing in my leggings but they contain lycra and I was concerned someone might think I was a real cyclist.
April 14, 2014
It’s that time of year when you only have to turn your back on a bulb of garlic and it turns into this
So it got re-allocated from kitchen duties to joining the overwintering (and by ‘overwintering’ I mean ‘lost track of last summer and only rediscovered it when it sprouted’) garlic up in the veg plot.
The garden feels massively behind this year, but things are warming up at last and spring is advancing. Tempting though it is to dive in and go mad on a glorious sunny breezy day like today, the soil is still very damp and claggy and there are frosts forecast so I’m having to hold back from planting anything just yet, apart from the chitted parsnips. Everything else is crammed onto the shed windowsill biding its time with varying degrees of patience – I have to be a bit careful walking past the pea seedlings, lest they start climbing up my leg.
Thank goodness for my autumn-planted broad beans. Battered they may be, but they are magnificently in flower. Even though I’ve done practically nothing except take a punt and stick some in the ground last year on the off chance, it almost makes me feel like a real gardener…
April 12, 2014
Babymother and co were up helping Huttonian celebrate his birthday this weekend and we came over to join them. And with spring springing (somewhat gustily, but at least not raining) we took the opportunity to go out for a quick cycle ride.
The Paperbike might be a splendid town bike, but with its cushy fat tyres it handles gravel, mud and ruts with a certain aplomb. The Brompton makes for a rather more skittish ride but is nippy round the potholes, and of course an Islabike is primarily a mountain bike, so we were able to take full advantage of Duns’s forest tracks and off-road paths. Which was fortunate because we weren’t that keen on trying the Borders’ roads.
It was only when I was looking at the pictures afterwards that it occurred to me we were all riding British bikes, all very different but each in their own way quality pieces of engineering.
Why is it we can build the bikes, but not the roads we need to ride them on?