Of all the baffling things that people believe about Pedal on Parliament, the one that gets me every time (even though I’ve heard it a number of times now) is the fact that people think we’ve somehow got things under control. If I hear it described as a well-oiled machine (usually by someone explaining why they haven’t got involved themselves) one more time I might just cry. The fact is – as any regular reader of this blog has probably got an inkling by now – POP is about as well-oiled as my chain in between visits to the bike shop. It runs not so much like clockwork, or even on blood, sweat and tears, as on endless messages on every communication platform existing, emails dug belatedly out of spam folders, four a.m. thoughts, increasingly desperate attempts to bring order to multiply ramifying to-do lists, and pure nervous tension.
And occasionally, just occasionally, bike rides.
The earlier POPs were run using an organisational method best described as Death by Email. Since then we’ve mostly switched to Slack, supplemented by social media messages and painful Zoom meetings – as I believe is now required by law – and I’m grateful for the fact that modern communication methods allow us to misunderstand each other in real time on a wide variety of different platforms, instead of relying on getting our wires crossed on just one. All of which is very draining, so it was utterly restorative to be able to spend a long-delayed 24 hours with my chief POP partner in crime, setting the world to rights, showing her some of the delights of our local cycling routes, bugging her by talking at her during the climbs, and recharging our batteries ready for the final three weeks before we Pedal on COP and join the masses in Glasgow for the Climate Global Day of Justice Action (I’m hoping that by November 6th I’ll be able to get those words in the right order first time without having to go and check the website).
I suppose it’s true that almost every endeavour – especially one run by volunteers in what they laughably call their spare time – is like the swan: for all it might look serenely graceful above the water, there’s a lot of paddling going on underneath. Perhaps if there’s something you know about for which you’re grateful – and which appears to run like clockwork – it might be worth inquiring of the organisers if they’d like a hand from time to time at turning the key; you would likely make a tired middle-aged woman very grateful. And indeed, if one of those things is, in fact, POP itself, here’s your chance to do that very thing.
Meanwhile, it turns out I don’t have a photo of a swan, graceful or otherwise, so have a tranquil leaf instead which, despite doing no paddling at all, was quietly floating upstream as the water rushed past it down towards the sea.
You may write your own metaphor for that.