Cycling Dies Irae

As you are no doubt aware if you’ve read some of my precious entries I like to ride my bicycle. I like to ride my bike. I use it to get everywhere and commute to and from work most days on it – occasionally for a change I’ll take the train, though I resent paying for it. That reminds me, do you know the origin of copper wire? Two Scotsman fighting over a penny. I digress (thanks Billy Connolly), mostly it’s the best way to travel in the city but you do get rotten apples who spoil the barrel.

Yesterday, I was very tired when i started work so I didn’t have my usual confidence so unintentionally I allowed a few drivers to dangerously overtake me at high speeds. The only way to stop this on fast roads is to confidently occupy as much of the lane as possible. This often takes a nerves of steel most cyclists will testify – you are very conscious of the armoured protection of the drivers and your polystyrene helmet being your only defence. Still, once you get used to it you don’t bat an eyelid, it’s easy and keeps the drivers in check but as I was saying yesterday, I wasn’t feeling up to it as I wasn’t really awake as I’d just rolled out of bed and got dressed without a shower (I know! I was going to be late and I’d had a bath the previous evening!) or had breakfast tea or coffee and it was very dark and hostile so zoom zoom zoom, the cars kept overtaking with nary an inch separating us.

Today was different, I set my alarm early, had a shower, had breakfast and strong fresh coffee with the radio on and even had a barney with Kirsten – not welcome but it certainly woke me up – so when I set out I was ready for anything. About halfway there I’d not experienced anything but perfect manners on the road and was starting to chill out and enjoy the cycle when vrrrammn! A black cab shot past on the empty road I was on.

When this happens you get a sudden shot of adrenaline as the car is so loud and quick – this never happens on the pavement. Also there’s a gust of wind which hits you starboard meaning you cling on for dear life. After the shock, it’s quickly replaced by anger and you eye your aggressor careening off into the darkness, red lights ablaze. Maybe because of the coffee or maybe it was having already tussled with Kirsten – if you can stand up to her dragon slaying is not out of the question – I decided to give him a piece of my mind so I kept a steady pace until we reached the next set of traffic lights where i rapped on his window. He tried to ignore me at first but I persisted and he wound down the window, I said calmly “you drove fart too close to me there, that’s my life you’re playing with pal in future be a little more considerate”, hoping he’d apologise and be done with it. Sadly this wasn’t to be and a tête-à-tête ensued concerning how much of the lane I was allowed and blah blah blah.

I felt kind of sorry for him as he was quite a bit older than me and even though he was driving, ironically, like a boy-racer I thought I was in danger of seeming like a bully so as soon as soon as the light went green I parted with, “you’ll find the highway code online pal!” and I zipped off. Honestly it’s all very embarrassing on reflection but when you’re in the thick of it and your hackles are raised it’s easy to get angry.

I found a good guide for cyclists and drivers here. I use lights, wear luminous clothing in foggy or bad conditions, obey traffic lights (since I was booked for going through a red light and charged £30 I decided to simplify my life and stick to green lights only), ride decisively on the road using hand signals for every turn and watch behind me when it’s safe  and I always let cars past when it’s safe to do so.

Brothers and sisters can’t we all just, like, get along man?

Spice Girl

Sorry for not posting for ages. Very busy, my sister’s back in Glasgow and we’re trying to sort our lives out – it’s not easy, really it’s tough, just trying to remain positive but I’m trying hard and so’s Kirst. It’s like we have this goal which once we achieve, all the hard work and anguish will be worth it but we’ve got nothing set in stone yet. I suppose it’s our real first test, a real go at adulthood where we have to employ all of our experience and skills and resources, what little we have, into acheiving this goal. On the one side there’s so much against us but on the other we’ve got positivity, friends and family (and rats) – so go team!

Anyway, aside from all that, it’s the usual diet of the cinema and reading. Just finished reading Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert, his sequel to the epic Dune. If you haven’t read the original then you’ve almost certainly encountered it in some form as it’s been routinely plundered for sci-fi movies, books and video games since it’s inception. The most noticeable being Star Wars and recently James Cameron’s Avatar (check out the trailer here) has borrowed heavily. Like Dune, his film is set on an exotic other planet which contains an extremely precious resource and the only think in the way are the native inhabitants who are otherworldly and primal. It also appears to feature some incredible technology another feature of Dune. If you haven’t read it and you enjoy sci-fi, it’s an absolute must – deep as the outer reaches of space yet remains sheer unadulterated entertainment.

Regarding the sequel, well, it’s pretty good but unlike the first novel which is completely standalone, this continues much like a soap opera. It’s a bit like a TV spin-off of a great movie. All the characters are there but it no longer inspires. So if you do read Dune, don’t feel you have to read the sequels. I will of course because i can’t leave a good thing alone.

Cinemawise, the last thing I saw was Jeniffer’s Body which I saw on Saturday with my friends Joanna and Stuart. There’s no denying this was a quality movie, funny, scary, beautifully produced and clever. The only gripe is that it’s more suitable for teenagers, fine if you’re a teen – and the audience was full of them, I actually felt old, they were all baying for Megan Fox and yeah, she is a fox but come on! A gaggle of girls behind me kept squealing and declaring undying love everytime she apeared onscreen and some guy cheered (which was actually quite funny and the cinema erupted in giggles) during the infamously gratuitous girl on girl snog scene  – but ultimately it was insubstantial. It’s also by the director of ‘Juno’ and although it’s MUCH flashier, it’s not as engaging. I suppose that’s why I would recommend Let the Right One In first for school-based monster shenanigans.

Gratuitous? Moi?

Earlier last month I saw Zombieland which was fabulous pop-corn munching entertainment with a fantastic cameo – have I mentioned that already?. I also caught Up in 3D – which I’m not convinced by, it’s a novelty – which was very good but I don’t know, it was too safe – Wall-E was far more interesting in my opinion.

Not caught any shows but despite a niggling cold, i’m still cycling to and from work despite the dropping temperatures. Tip for annoying aggressive drivers who beep at you for occupying a lane and not squeezing into the kerb to let them pass so they can get to the traffic lights first: when they angrily beep their horn at you, first of all resist falling of the bike in shock, simply raise your hand and wave as if they were merely being human and beeping a friendly hello. This is guaranteed to piss them off.

This morning I was listening to 6music at work and the DJ, Shaun Kevagny, asked for details of things we believed when we were children with no evidence so I emailed them and told them how I believed (and convinced my sister also) that electric bar heaters were fueled with lava which poured into the electric tube from the back – where it was stored obviously – when you switched it on and they read it out on air.

PS Happy Birthday Gran!

Cycling in Glasgow – ups and downs

As you may recall my bike was stolen a few months ago and very sad it was. Still, I now have a new steed, a matt black eight speed Courier Classic from the lovely Edinburgh Bicycle Co-op. It’s without doubt the best bike I’ve ever had. Light, perfect size, fast, manouverable, and so far after three months is in perfect working order – even the wheels are still perfectly true.

Have you noticed how cycling has become more and more popular over the last wee while? I’ve been commuting by bike for around five years now and for a long time seeing another cyclist on the road was a rare sight. We still stand out – for every cyclist there’s around 100 cars I’d estimate – but it’s no longer a lonely road to and from work and despite most of the time being too focused on staying alive to chat, there’s a hint of camaraderie between cyclists. God forbid a motorist tries any funny business when two cyclists are together. Once at the top of Woodlands road, where cars often try to push you onto the motorway due to impatience, another lady cyclist saw this happen and stopped and commiserated with me. It didn’t stop the driver but it helped me let off some steam. 

Sadly, most of the time you’re on your own cycling and at the mercy of whichever psychopath has been granted a driving licence. I’ve never taken lessons so I have no idea what drivers get taught in relation to cyclists on the road but it doesn’t bode well for BSM. Most drivers are FINE though. Courteous, even helpful. But still many cars to treat cyclists as if they don’t actually appear on the road at all. They’ll take over you by zipping in front at breakneck speeds narrowly missing oncoming traffic only to meet you at the traffic lights 10 seconds up the road. It can be unnerving and it definitely requires steely nerves traversing some parts of the road when you know drivers are prepared to take such risks. Honestly, taxi’s repeat this maneuver daily with me and believe it or not, buses do the same.

I suppose my point is that the more cyclists take to the road the safer it becomes. I reckon the reason drivers flaunt this outrageously dangerous not to mention plain rude behaviour is that there are usually only other drivers around to see. Also, anyone who travels regularly by car will tell you the feeling of safety in your bubble of steel and glass is tangible and maybe it’s hard for drivers to relate as no such bubble exists for the cyclist (which incidentally is part of the joy of cycling). Tellingly, whenever I’m cycling in a group or pair on the commute to or from work I rarely get any hassle from drivers.

Of course drivers demonise cyclists but what these Jeremy Clarkson wannabees fail to recognise is how poor the infrastructure for cyclists is in most cities. Bad isn’t the word – it’s dreadful, really dreadful. Some drivers snort and bellow ‘but we pay road tax!” yet have obviously failed to grasp how little maintenance a road requires from a light pair of bicycle treads in comparison to the one-ton-plus behemoths that tear up the tarmac on a hourly basis. More incongruous still – as I mentioned above – is the disparity between drivers and cyclists on the road. There are far, far more drivers than cyclists, I can’t overstate this, at times it’s a sea of exhausts compared to the lone fleck of pedals, so whenever a stationary driver howls “Oh oh, look look! He cycled when the green man was showing! Look look! Ooga-booga wah-wah!” they ought to consider how many countless illegal manoeuvres by drivers have been witnessed by the cyclist since they set out.

I have a suggestion if you are a driver who has a problem with cyclists: put your money where your mouth is. If you live within ten miles of work leave your car in its space or garage or driveway and instead get on your bike for a month.

You never know, you might just ditch it for good.

Stolen

It finally happened. Many cyclists will tell you that they never really feel like they own their bikes rather that they act as care takers until someone else decides to sieze ownership while their backs are turned.

Yes, my much beloved bike was stolen yesterday. I was having a bad day. I’d just discovered that I hadn’t got the job I had been interviewed on the previous day which I’d pretty much set my heart on and my phone was acting up but still, it was my day off and I was free to spend the day cycling around the city seeing friends and art galleries.

Whilst trying for the fifth time, unsuccesfully, to send a text message on Argyle Street I noticed I was virtually in front of Carphone Warehouse, so I thought I’d pop in to see if they could help (as it happens they couldn’t and took my phone in to be repaired, replacing it with a seemingly willfully user-unfriendly slab, honestly it’s hideous and hellish difficult to use).

So I tied the bike securely with my combination lock on an iron roadside banister being careful to remove the lights to make it less attractive to thieves, opposite the shop and went in. 5 minutes later I stepped out and the bike was gone. My first thought was “I must have locked it elsewhere” but no. The space it left behind was glaring. It was such a short window of time out of eyeshot (sic) I canned the crowds to see if anyone was cycling off but no. Nothing could be done.

The next hour was spent chatting to the police giving details although this is really a formality, as all my bikes have been stolen in the past and not one has been recovered or even spotted on CCTV.

It’s hard not to feel absolutely gutted, I use my bike on a daily basis to get to and from work, visiting people and places and I hate buses with a passion. Also, the bike was fitted with mud guards two sets of lights, one of which I got from my dad for my last birthday, where you power them by winding them up. I still have the front one but it’s unusable without the bracket. Well, it still works as a torch.

Rowan has been lovely and stopped me from being too depressed. You get such a close bond with the bike, I can honestly say I loved the thing. It gave so much freedom and happiness.  God knows how awful it must be to have a pet dog stolen because I kept getting silly thoughts like “I hope it’s in good hands” and “I bet she misses me”! Fingers crossed I’ll get a new one soon though (this one was worth £350 – I had to live on Lidl supernoodles for a month to afford it) so I’ve just got to chalk this one up to experience and get insurance next time.

I’ve been thinking. It’s time to fight back on the bicycle thieves.  I suggest that we tie up attractive looking bikes in key public spaces (starting with the banister on Argyle Street) with a couple of lookouts at a discrete but close location armed with a bull whip and an air horn. The first sign of a thief closing in and crack goes the whip on his knuckles and the air horn blasts while someone else takes photos for the police.

Maybe drop the whip part but it’s still a good idea. Who’s with me?

Stimpy

Visited my dad’s today. He very kindly fixed my bike for me, new brake pads, all tightened up, it’s lovely. I’ve been cycling without brakes essentially for so long I nearly flew over my handle bars the first time I used them while cycling to work.

Dad’s got some new pigeons, just fledglings, the first born in Bassett Avenue. Sandy (named after Rowan’s nephew) the cockerel likes to crow regularly and one of the young pigeons tries to copy him, it really is the oddest thing I’ve heard in a long while.

It’s been a while since I’ve been over so I saw Stimpy, dad’s black cat which we jokingly refer to as his ‘familiar’ as he adores Dad so much. Well, I was saddened to discover he’s not been very healthy lately, he’s got all skinny and apparently his eyesight which was never very good anyway has deteriorated further so he’s always bumping into things. I mean, we all laugh at the way Stimpy misses jumps and falls where other cats stroll with grace. However, it’s got much worse and in fact, when I arrived at the house I noticed he didn’t recognise me from a distance which he usually does.

Perhaps since Katie, the until recently cat matriarch of the house and arch nemesis of Stimpy, has died he’s got less reason to hang on. I always thought they were battling to be the last to survive (Katie was at least 20 when she passed away) and now that he’s won he’s just fading away.

Of course, that’s a ridiculous thought and Dad really should take him to the vet. He seems happy though and was friendly as usual when I got up close, he just seemed weaker. Pets are so important in our family’s lives, even though they can be a source of sadness, I’d hate to live without them.

Eye Spy

Got my new specs last night. Heavy duty Prada. Very dark tortoiseshell that look black except upclose where you can see the pattern, deceptively angular, the more you look at them the more you notice the frame is constructed with many curves, not angles. They’re lovely I think.

More than that, the level of clarity compared to my old specs is just amazing. I recently got contacts (disposables) just for running and going out and stuff which were really much better than my glasses but this pair is better even than the contacts, everything is so rich and detailed – when I cycled into work today, i took the scenic route through the city centre and enjoyed just taking in the sights, watching the people go by, workies, tourists, students, crazy folk shouting at each other – it really was eye opening no pun intended. Och to hell with it, pun intended.

Spring has sprung

Most definitely. A whole winter of cycling to and from work in the dark has paid off and this last week of early starts has been reward with sunshine and fresh air. Bliss

Just been cycling around this morning enjoying the freedom of a well earned day off (my productivity was 200% yesterday) so at Cafe Grianach inthe Southside of Glasgow (where I live surprisingly). I tried the Tramway but they wouldn’t accept my card for a transaction under £5, I just wanted a black coffee and was deliberately avoiding any cakes (I know it sounds wet but I’m on a diet – it necessary, that’s all) so I came here instead, presumably the barrista drank the coffee. 

Before I got here i took a few photographs of the place. So many people baulk in Glasgow when you say you live in the Southside. It’s a misunderstood place and long may it stay that way, as this ensures it’s not completely overrun with snobs.

'Spice Garden', a buzzing Indian grocers in Pollokshields opposite Rowan's flat. Definitely worth a visit.

 Later on I went to Kelvingrove park and did this sketch:

Then cycled home and made tuna nicoise salad for Rowan and I. We then took a twilight walk in the park.

Queens Park, just as the sun goes down

Rowan, trying not to look stressed.

Our last stop of the day was to visit Kirsty and Moley at their house. We got to see the kids trainset just before they went to bed then when Moley got back from work he told us all about the new film he’s working on. It’s a German film set in Scotland called ‘Whiteout’. It’s full of action scenes and lots of fake snow. It set me wondering, will the actors be playing Scots? And I wonder what a German speaking in his or her native tongue must sound like doing an impression of a Scot?!

Aileen Campbell/New York bike racks

Thursday isn’t the most obvious time for a day off but hey, there you go, that’s what I’ve got and it’s actually a lovely, blustery, damp, sunny day.

So I thought I’d check out the new exhibition at the Tramway, another video installation only this time it’s by Glaswegian artist Aileen Campbell. 

Born in Greenock in 1968, she graduated from the Art School three years ago. Her work is particularly close to my heart as it explores unknown structures of music combined with a kind of parallel visual structure – or at least that’s what I get from this piece and the accompanying blurb.

Upon entering the darkened room where the installation is kept you are faced with three fairly large projections each displaying footage of, from left to right, Aileen herself singing atonally in what looks like a spartan Glasgow flat (you can just tell) in the middle is an older gentleman playing atonally on a pipe organ (in a Glasgow flat) and the final screen is of a younger lass slowly climbing the stairwell of a tenement flat, lugging an old doublebass, pausing occasionally to play with the bow (though avoiding at any time dragging the horsehair against the strings), you guessed it, atonally.

Despite myself I found it hypnotic and engaging. I liked the familiarity of the film – my father plays both the doublebass and the pipe organ (he’s actually got a Hammond with Leslie speakers) – and the organist’s dog makes an appearance looking altogether less than comfortable with his owner’s cacophony. Definitely worth a look.

Onto matters two wheels now. When cycling about the city it’s often a pain in the bahookie to find somewhere to lock my bike whenever I stop to go into a shop or wherever so like most cyclists I tie mine up to metal railings, lamp posts and, my personal favourite, car parking meters. Trouble is, they’re often difficult to lock to and can get in the way of folk if you aren’t careful. There’s really very few well lit places for bikes and all the good ones are over subscribed. I’d say, at a conservative estimate, there are about, ooh, one hundred car parking spaces for every bike rack.

Unlike Glasgow, New York is a city that’s noticed this problem. The cities powers that be ran a competition to find attractive and practical designs for new places to lock bikes and in a rather lovely move David Byrne has joined the fray and made his own cool designs:



I’d love to lock my bike to one of those racks! It would be so cool if Glasgow did a similar thing and got local artists to do the same, doncha think?