Dear Blog,
You wait all winter … nothing. Then along comes two twice!!!! Saturday saw the arrival of two swifts, the first of the summer; a whole colony nest in the few houses nearby my mansion. Then yesterday along come two, well three actually, swallows. Last year we had a nest in the eves so I wonder if any of these three are the youngsters from that nest; kept my younger daughter awake for weeks as they chose her window eve in which to build their muddy nest. Early twittering and tweeting did no amour her to the hobby of ornithology; taxidermy perhaps, ornithology no with a capital ‘N’.
My note to you about the BUSF steeplechase will have to wait until my next letter as I am having serious problems at the moment; problems of the mind; psychological problems; deep disturbed confused psychological problems. Blog, I kid you not. I do not know where my loyalties lie and I do not know how to resolve my dilemma. Can you help perhaps???
A bit of background first of all, to help you come up with a possible diagnosis followed by a probable cure or at least some remedial action which might provide me with a crumb of comfort. It was about fifty years ago today plus a week or so that I bought my ‘motor bike’. The use of inverted comas is intentional as I feel that they are an essential requirement because the ‘motor bike’ (inverted commas again note) was a Raleigh Runabout; basically a sewing machine with pedals which had to be employed whenever the ‘motor bike’ (commas again) had to negotiate a slope!!! I still have the shell of the bike propped against one of the garden sheds. Blog I kid you not!! Anyways. I used to have a Parka three quarter length jacket and fancied myself as something of a Mod fellow traveller. That is until one day I was returning home on said bike in the rain one evening after training down at Bingley Harriers. Approaching a T-junction at which I had to give right of way to the traffic on the main road, which I was approaching rather quickly, I squeezed my brakes. Both brakes. Squeezed them hard. Very hard. Now at this point I feel I must explain some of the technical wizardry of the Raleigh Runabout. It did have a 49cc engine I must admit. And it did have a brake attached to the rim of each of the two wheels. But the design team at the Raleigh factory in Nottingham, for reason best known to themselves, incorporated simple bicycle brakes to the Raleigh Runabout ‘motor bike’ with its 49cc engine. And in the rain, anyone who has ridden a bicycle knows that the efficiency of brakes on a bicycle leave a lot to be desired. And if you stick a 49cc engine onto the bicycle, those brakes in the rain leave an awful lot to be desired. So, in the rain in my Parka jacket playing the Mod, at night, approaching a junction rather too quickly at which the traffic law of the land obliged me to give way, the brakes were applied and not a lot happened. Now the brain is a funny part of the body. Encased as it is in a bony protective case, it is not too clever a staying in one piece when smashed into by a lorry or car travelling fast. And remember dear Blog, helmets were not worn in those far off days, nay, I doubt if they had been invented. With the prospect of an oncoming headache of mega proportions, some kind on immediate counter measure was being called for. Straight on and I would probably be the cause of some local traffic inconvenience. Stopping had been ruled out by my brain and the designers at the Raleigh Bicycle factory in Nottingham and whoever was responsible for the downpour of rain. I had no option but to crash my ‘motor bike’. I did hit the parked car with all the force a 49cc engine could muster with brakes fully squeezed!!! But, I am glad to report that I didn’t die in the accident. But my beloved Mod jacket was ruined; and it afforded little protection to a slide along the tarmac even if the coefficient of friction had been reduced by the presence of lying water. So it was out with the Mods and on with the Rocker; A Rocker I shall be. The leather jacket cost very little from the second hand shop. In reality it was an airman’s leather flying jacket. But leather is leather, and who argues with a tooled-up Rocker? And so I became a Rockering fellow traveller.
Now the distance to the Pink Panther University from my home was in a three figures, with hills en route and a long stretch of straight road approaching Scotch Corner alongside Leeming Bar and Catterick camp into the wind. Always a windy stretch. Yes as a latterday Rocker I used to travel up and down at the beginning and end of term between Uni, as the modern palance has it, and home on my ‘motor bike’. Most of the way I had to peddle furiously as the 49ccs under my aching bum could not cope with God’s Own County’s country!!!!
So a Mod then a Rocker. No problem. A Damascus moment long ago.
THEN …………..
Trundling along on my trudge three weeks ago, a whole bunch of scooters past me by in Meriden on their way, no doubt, to some Scooter Rally. I drooled. Memories came flooding back. The old feelings. I was awoken from my reverie by a Scooterist who was off the back and had lost the bunch; which way did they go he enquired. I pointed and a little tear trickled down my cheek. Once a Mod, always a MOD.
THEN …………..
Trundling along on my trudge on Sunday morning in the sunshine, a whole bunch of big bikes roared past me in Corley on their way, no doubt, to some Big Bike Rally. I drooled. Memories came flooding back. The old feelings. I was awoken from my reverie by a Rocker who was off the back and had lost the bunch; which way did they go he enquired. I pointed and a little tear trickled down my cheek. Once a Rocker, always a Rocker.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Nor have I since …. You can see my problem can’t you Blog. Am I one of Them or one of Them? I am all mixed up inside with these feelings of conflict. I am cracking up……
HHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.
Colin
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