By bike the road is revealing every bump, every pothole; all uneven surfaces, however small, prove to be real bone shakers. I may as well be on a Penny Farthing. I don’t remember the roads being like this when I drive, but perhaps that’s because they’re not. I think the Mayor’s getting up in the wee small hours with his drill to ruin the roads he doesn’t use.
On Baynes street I drop down to the canal, riding across concrete slabs, which sound out like moving wooden slats on a bridge. It's quiet apart from the occasional ringing of a bicycle bell (not mine). The curtains are drawn on the barges but the plants on the roof are enjoying the morning sun. A man photographs a Banksy under a bridge, which under close inspection seems to have been put up by a rival. I pass the zoo, then head back up to the road.
On the way home, girls in summer dresses sit drinking, their feet dangling over the edge towards the water, bright yellow canoeists circle round, drunks sit on benches and lurk under bridges. A guy plays acoustic guitar, the acoustics amplified by the bridge he's under. The Camden market sellers are packing up for the evening. The punks occupy the same spot as last night with their juggling balls.
Yesterday I missed my turn back onto the road and ended up near King’s Cross. As I rode up Caledonian road a family opened a door to my left, and the smell of chlorine poured out. It seemed such a busy road for a swimming pool.
When I reach home I find an advert for a 2010 version of the Penny Farthing. They've modernised it. I can't wait to see one around here. Hmm, this may be the second cycling blog in a row, but it’s all new and exciting to me and next week it may just have proved to be a passing fad.
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