On Yer Bike

I’ve always had a bike. I love that feeling of freedom you get when you first turn the wheel and launch forward. It has never left me. I get the same feeling when I push off from a sandy beach in my Speedos and brave the cold Atlantic, at least until I discover that I’m quickly out of my depth and then I turn around. If only I could fly. That would put the icing on the cake.

In 1964, my folks let me take my bike on our family holiday - the only time I did so - by train to Somerset. I cycled to Templecombe sheds and watched Bulleid Pacifics on the main line. My bike and I then took what turned out to be a once in a lifetime trip on the Somerset and Dorset Railway, not long before it closed. 

Yesterday, the Tour of Britain cycle race came through our village. The whole junior school trooped down to Main Street to wave their yellow-painted, giant, card hands. The bunting was out and there were yellow bikes parked everywhere. Hay bales on the hillside had been arranged in the shape of a bike. Hanging baskets and tubs shone golden. Drivers were shamed into not parking as usual outside the bread shop while they nipped in for a bacon cob, by youngsters in hi-viz vests. There was a buzz in the air and it wasn’t just from the helicopter.

It was all over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, of course – that’s one for the five in the leading group and two for the peloton about four minutes later.

We raced back to see ourselves on the TV recording. The commentator got the name of our village wrong as the leaders swept down the hillside from the car park in the woods with the dubious reputation [allegedly], past the stink from the chicken farm [definitely], and sailed over the crossroads, where normally you have to sit for minutes, waiting for the slightest chink in an otherwise continuous flow of traffic.

TV chose this moment to go for a lengthy break for adverts. By the time coverage was resumed even the peloton had left the village and was off down the road. Great timing folks. It was back to green verges, trees, hardly any supporters or decorations and some inconsequential background chatter. I can report that the community feels a bit aggrieved today, because a lot of effort, civic pride, good intentions, enthusiasm and excitement were totally overlooked by thoughtless scheduling. In the end, it’s all about people. Most things are. We had a nice time, all the same.