onionbagblog

Well that felt rather wonderful - rolling out of Wivenhoe on Sunday morning for a brisk bike ride out towards Brightlingsea.

Blimey.

Truth be told and the Giant road bike hasn’t seen any North Essex estuary action since the Great Escape. It somehow managed to side step the South London culling of the fleet, when I cut back on the bikes that I would need around these parts. The Wivenhoe Trail may be ace for my Essex MTB, but I don’t think that the Herne Hill track bike would have enjoyed the terrain around the Hythe.

And that really has been my main bicycling adventure since early autumn - back and forth along the Trail, en route for the daily dip. Alresford Creek occasionally gets a look in, always on the MTB, always at a leisurely pace.

Local road clubs have been sourced, and I am still keen to roll out with the good folk of Colchester Rovers one Saturday morning. But I have been conveniently finding an excuse not to saddle up and put sixty plus miles in the legs to start off the weekend.

I thought that maybe my racing days are over. I bonked badly on the banks at le velo for my final season of track racing. Rolling out with the Dulwich Paragon faired little better, with my King of the Mountain reputation (yeah, right…) receding as we approached the climbs of Crystal Palace.

But then for some unknown reason this weekend, my mind was telling me to take a spin on the road bike and see how the legs felt. Turns out it was the right choice - a trip down to the bike shed and the MTB has picked up a puncture overnight anyway.

Bugger.

And so out came the Giant, the cleats clicked into place and a lycra clad fool rolled out towards Rectory Road.

Oh Lordy.

Brightlingsea was within my radar. A working Sunday meant that I had just less than an hour for the ride there and back. Tourism of the North Essex Riviera can wait for another day.

Out of Wivenhoe, through Alresford (I think it was closed…) and then on towards the coast. My legs picked up the pace with the first few miles. I even found that I was hitting top gear and finding the right lines for the corners.

Twenty minutes later and the coastal smell of fish ‘n chips was wafting through the fresh Brightlingsea air. With the work clock ticking down back at base, I didn’t even bother to de-cleat as I turned around and put my pedals down for the return leg.

Even with such haste, a bicycle is truly the most majestic way in which to explore the delights of the countryside that make up this truly beautiful part of the country. Crossing the railway line at Alresford and you are presented with a picture postcard view of the Colne, slowly rolling back and forth towards Wivenhoe.

I may just leave my MTB puncture unattended for the next few days or so. I never was any good in getting my grubby hands around a bike repair kit. The road bike is back, and the estuary bike lanes are mine to explore.

Chapeau!

Come to the Saturday Stanfords auction at Severals they said; have a look at the bicycles - there’s some right bargains to be had. They weren’t wrong. But a Bicycling Boy About Town probably doesn’t need SIX bikes, does he?

Blimey

I think you know where we’re possibly heading with this one…

But first, a bit more about the ace Stanfords auction. Impressed with the detailed online catalogue (new boxed Girl and Ducks Fountain bronze effect garden water feature with LED light and pump anyone?) @AnnaJCowen and I thought it worth the early morning bike ride from Wivenhoe up towards Highwoods to see how a local auction house actually operates.

On offer is essentially a courtyard full of junk. Don’t expect the Sotheby’s fine art experience at a Saturday morning down at Severals. Do expect however some absolute bargain buys, and a bidding process that is most definitely blink ‘n you’ll miss it.

With the formalities of the auction getting underway at 9:45, the first half hour is spent wandering around the courtyard and eyeing up the lots. I wasn’t sure if a pile of bricks was art or arse - or even if the lot that was legitimately up for auction.

Some game old birds were pulling the punters in at the back of the barn shed. Nothing too seedy for a Saturday morning, simply the poultry auction in action with ducks, hens and um, dead rabbits being bid upon.

It was all rather ooh, and ahh and isn’t she sweet? Can we take a pair home please for £20, and then realise that even our rural Wivenhoe garden ‘aint that great for a couple of cocks to strut around before ending up in the pot?

Back to the bikes then…

This was where the real action was taking place. Mr Auctioneer was calling the shots quicker than the time it takes for me to saddle up and roll out down towards the Trail. The average selling time was less than sixty seconds - wham, bam, thank you mam. Look ma - no hands!

A gorgeous Raleigh road bike topped the bidding at £95. Most children’s bikes went for £1 a pair. Catching my eye was a rather delightful period piece Moulton Mini. It was the perfect companion piece to my current ownership of, um, a delightful period piece Moulton Mini, minus the fixed wheel snob status.

@AnnaJCowen wasn’t keen:

“You’ve yet to get the Little Red Wivenhoe Devil out from the shed, so why the chuffers do you need yet another Moulton?”

A good question, and one well put. You watch the girl start to lose interest in me when I take up stamp collecting instead.

I hovered around the Moulton marvel, and soon Mr Auctioneer was rolling off random figures as the bidding started. A cheeky bid of £25 was going to be my tops. I held off for the first thirty seconds, anticipating a grand climax thirty seconds later and a smug smile.

And relax.

No joy - the Moulton went for £35 - a bargain price for sure, but one that is increasingly difficult to justify when you already have a shed load (literally) of the lovely 60′s bikes back at base.

We stayed around Standfords for a little longer, and had some great conversations with likewise local bicycle freaks. There appears to be quite a small community of vintage bike nuts around North Essex, and one that I really need to explore ahead of a possible estuary visit later this year by the good @thebikeshow.

But there wasn’t to be a happy ending with six Moultons ending up back in the garden shed. The pile of bricks reached their asking price and the two prize cocks (steady) were lapped up by a local buxom farmer’s wife type.

And so that was our Stanfords Saturday morning auction experience. Not much bidding action, but ample amusement all the same. We never did find out what the Girl and Ducks Fountain bronze effect garden water feature with LED light and pump finally went for.

Bonkers, I tell you. Bonkers.

This piece was first published in the brilliant Colchester 101 magazine. Copies are available for free around pubs, shops and other public places in the town.

The legendary “get on yer bike” phrase was born out of Essex Man. It is appropriate then that Norman Tebbit’s political legacy is now booming here in Colchester. The former Conservative MP for Chingford suggested cycling as a response to the early ’80s recession. Pedal forward almost thirty years later, and cycling is being promoted as a lifestyle choice in Colchester, and not as a cheap political gimmick either.

First off we have Cycle Colchester, a Department of Transport initiative that has secured the status of an official Cycle Town for Colchester. With status comes prestige, as well as £4.2m in European funding to help promote cycling as a transport alternative. Cycle to school and work schemes are in place, as well as training and mechanic courses.

The long-term legacy of Cycle Colchester is about to be put to the test with the consultation of local people over two proposed cycle routes. Running along Lower Castle Park, the first ride is a scenic spin along the Colne. The second suggestion is a route through The Folley, which separates Upper and Lower Castle Park.

As a committed cyclist (um, can’t afford a car…) then obviously I’m a flag waver. But for the consultation to really work, views from all road users are required. The posturing of the urban bike warrior gives bicycles a bad name. There’s room for everyone out there folks, yep - even along St Andrew’s Avenue.

Ah, but how to convince non-cyclists to take to the streets of Colchester on a bicycle? On yer bike was the message made to Wivenhoe locals last month when the Estate Management team from the University tried to explain the road confusion that the new Knowledge Gateway is going to create north of Greenstead.

Clingoe Hill is clogged up“>. It ‘aint gonna get any better with a new feeder road being built. The serious suggestion for folk commuting out of the Tendring Peninsula was one of pedal power. Fine in theory, but you need the infrastructure to convert people to two wheels.

For a town that is very reliant upon retail and industrial sites, not to mention having a train station out of the town centre, converting Colchester to become a bicycle nation is never going to be easy. We may have a Dutch quarter, but the Southway is somewhat short on cycle segregation.

You need to grow a cycling culture slowly, slowly. The more visible cyclists become around the town and the more tempting and convenient the lifestyle will appear. It took over a decade for London to learn to love the bicycle with the appearance of Boris Bikes around the capital.

Every little bit counts, which is precisely where Keep Colchester Cycling comes in. Supported by Cycle Colchester, keepcolchestercycling.com is being launched to simultaneously showcase Colchester, and encourage people to enjoy the town from a free to hire bike.

The Colchester cycling community has donated the bicycles. They are made available for use by members of the public who do not own the bicycles, but can pay a fully refundable deposit to hire them for personal use. Every Keep Colchester Cycling bike will come with a lock, a safety pack and set of cycle maps, including discount vouchers for venues along the different routes.

It is a fascinating project, combining transport practicalities with social art. As well as getting from A to B, it is hoped that users will use social media to document their ride, and open up the culture of cycling to others.

The huge success of the Tour of Great Britain rolling through our historic town last summer proved that there is more to Colchester than crazy roundabouts. The event not only created a buzz about cycling within the town, but also provided genuine economic benefits to local traders.

Cycle Colchester, Keep Colchester Cycling, even the crazed suggestion to “get on yer bike” by our friends from up at the University - spring is coming and now truly is the time to consider taking to the saddle.

Chapeau!

And so having turned my back on the London fixie scene in favour of a more traditional form of bicycling for the Essex flats, I’ve only gone and bought another fixed wheel bike.

Whoops.

But wait - it’s alright. This one is a heavily modified fixed wheel Moulton.

Blimey.

Much like my bonkers multi-coloured Moulton, the eBay auction of the Little Red Wivenhoe Devil was a temptation too far for me to resist. Not to sure about the BMX mag wheels (although I know a neighbour who will probably put me right…)

I don’t think that the gearing will get me up Boundary Road on the way back to Wivenhoe. A ride along the Trail at high tide will probably end up with a baptism in the Colne. Looks like my new Moulton is strictly a Co-op bike, then.

The beauty of shed ownership has afforded me more bicycle storage space. I admit that six frames stacked up back in the old London kitchen was stretching it a bit. I now have parking space for another half a dozen down in my little den at the bottom of the garden.

As I’m sure the good @thebikeshow would agree - everyone needs one red bike. Or possibly two, or even three…

I better stop there.

I took out the Little Red Wivenhoe Devil for a brief spin around Valley Road and the surrounds over the weekend.

“Look Mummy! There’s a silly man on a funny bike!

…was the only publishable comment of choice.

I’m tempted to take it out for a spin at Herne Hill Velo. I doubt if old Dave would allow me on the track with it. Technically it isn’t breaking any velo rules. But BMX Mags ‘aint exactly Herne Hill etiquette.

Like it’s owner, the Little Red Wivenhoe Devil is proudly Made in Nottingham (although both have now buggered off to Wivenhoe…) Dear old Alex would disown me. My membership of the fine Moultoneers would be no more.

The Wivenhoe Mini Moulton Fixed Wheel scene starts here.

Any takers?

I’m starting to sound like Margaret Thatcher after being turfed out of No. 10, but yep - we’re leaving the place we have called home for the past fifteen years, probably for the final time.

I arrived in Brixton back in the summer of 1995, full of hope, high on optimism and with a huge appetite for ambition. None of these have been played out to their full potential, but I feel that I am leaving London as an all round better person.

I’ve been enlightened, enriched and inspired by London. But it comes at a high price, both financially and physically. London demands everything of you. There’s no hiding away if you want to experience the benefits that this city has to offer - you’re either in or you’re out.

I want out.

After fifteen years of running around town, it’s time to come up for some air. We both need a break, and one that allows us to put our feet up, laze around in the garden with a bottle of bolly and just generally live a slower pace of life.

Plus if truth be told, the tipping point came last summer when South London Yoof decided to camp out on my newly varnished front garden fence. It wasn’t particularly anti-social behaviour, but then neither was my response of blasting out some Billy Bragg from my front bedroom to shift South London Yoof along.

I just want a bit of peace, space and respect, bruv. I can’t find that in Sunny Stockwell any more. I live in fear of becoming what I despise - a right wing bigot, albeit with some sense of justification, given the actions of those around me in my current surroundings.

We have lived in the city for fifteen years because we wanted to. We wanted the convenience of being close to the cultural capital of the world; we wanted the opportunities that living in such a densely populated environment presented, and most of all, we wanted to be part of something that was much greater than we as individuals could ever be. London allowed us to live this lifestyle.

But that period in our lives is now in the past. We’re both ready for the next phase, searching for more solitude and a less frantic lifestyle - and yeah, one which probably involves keeping a well stocked wine cellar and not feeling guilty about procrastinating and enjoying life for itself, rather than with a specific reason to achieve or obtain career fulfillment.

I’m failing to find the love that I once had for this great city. Weekends of hunting down specific events or meetings are long gone. The enthusiasm for anything outside of my micro #hyperlocal patch of South London is non-existent. I’m even struggling to see anything of interest for me around here locally. A man who is bored of London is bored of life. I need to therefore try and find a new life out in the wilds.

I’m giving up pretty much everything that has been my social existence for a third of my life: the korfball club, watching cricket, the cycling community at Herne Hill and of course the lovely lido (although if truth be told, it’s not been a great season down in SE24.)

I feel that I’ve run my course with each activity. With no physical or geographical work restrictions keeping me in place, it’s time to move on. I am a nomad of technology: have broadband (just) will travel.

And so where to next? Well, we’re going back to the future to find a familiar lifestyle of old. Almost twenty years ago to the day, @AnnaJCowen and I first met as undergraduates at the University of Essex in Colchester. We’re now heading back to North Essex / Suffolk border, just up the road from the campus to the quayside town of Wivenhoe.

When we lived in North Essex, we couldn’t wait to leave for London. Weekends were spent going back and forth to Liverpool Street. It now seems that we have come full circle, and we can’t get wait to get back to the Wivenhoe rural way of life.

The city has served me well, but I can no longer keep up. I need an environment that hopefully will begin a new period of discovery. Yep - I’m becoming a hippy.

There’s a cycling club, estuary swimming, county cricket in nearby Castle Park, a sailing club and a jazz club. I think I’ll be busy, in a more laid back, middle-aged sort of way. Plus Wivenhoe is Constable country. I don’t think I’m going to take up landscape painting, but think of all those wonderful wildlife photographic opportunities.

That purveyor of objectivity and truth, um, the urban dictionary, rather helpfully adds:

“[Wivenhoe ] Small town in North East Essex. The town is home to an abnormally high percentage of musicians, artists, actors, and assorted TV and media people. The University of Essex at the top of the town is famous as a Communist stronghold in the 1960′s - the town also was home to The Angry Brigade at that time.

The Wivenhoe Folk Club is recognised as one of the best in the country, and regularly attracts big name acts. Other Essex villages consider Wivenhoe to be full of drunks, layabouts, hippies, arty-farty types, Pot-Heads, gays, and prozac-dependants. Small wonder then, that it was recently rated as the second most popular place to live in the whole of the UK.”

Blimey.

We’ve bought an old Victorian cottage with views out across the North Essex estuary. We’re keeping our properties down here in South London, still doing the landlord and tenant nonsense. Needs must. Plus you never know when you might miss the mean streets of Sunny Stockwell and long for a return.

Or maybe not.

As for m’blog? Well, it never really was about South London per se - more about my life in South London. The Wivenhoe lifestyle will undoubtedly present many new opportunities, and I’ll probably end up blogging all about these.

The countdown to the North Essex coastal adventure started in earnest some eighteen months ago when the plan was first hatched. We’re now approaching the Sunny Stockwell end game, with all the final arrangements being put in place.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has helped to make our London life so special. The memories will remain (um, online…) as we reach out to create new ones.

London loves, the misery of a speeding heart.

Time for the Great Escape.

Sadly my Moultons and various fixed wheels aren’t quite suitable for Wivenhoe Wood or the banks of the River Colne. It’s back to the future in oh so many ways - MTB included.

My days of two fixies and a track bike ownership are over. It’s a London North Essex thing, baby.

A built to budget bike from yer man Bob of, um, Bob’s Bikes SE17, and then come Saturday morning and the beast was ready to roll out. It was damn hard work, with the heavy tread making heavy going of the treacle like Walworth Road. Get me on that Wivenhoe Trail ASAP.

Front suspension, disc brakes and enough rubber to power a condom factory. I can’t say it’s gonna be a ride of choice, more one of circumstances. When in Rome.

Chapeau!

With a huge heads up to the brilliant @thebikeshow, I finally managed to indulge my twin passions of cycling and cappuccino, with a Saturday morning spent slurping coffee at Look Mum No Hands!

Part cafe, part bicycling workshop, the Old Street establishment is fast becoming a central meeting point for London cyclists. It offers somewhere to meet up for fellow riders, share road experiences and refresh, before rolling out once again.

Cafes that cater for cyclists are surprisingly rare. There’s Cafe St Germain at Crystal Palace, although this is more a cafe of coincidence, serving as the regular roll out location for the mighty Dulwich Paragon.

With my morning cycling companion @richardgallon cutting a swath through the back streets of the city, we pulled up outside Look Mum, and locked up our Raleigh rides. As you would expect, parking provision is ample, both outdoors and indoors within the spacious set up.

Bicycles old and new hang from the walls and the ceiling. Some of these are for sale, some are historical reminders as to how far, and yet also how little cycling has changed over the past one hundred years.

We ordered an espresso and a cappuccino, and then chose to soak up the morning sun, sitting outside towards the front of the cafe. Despite being positioned in the centre of Old Street, there was still a feeling of tranquilly and shelter away from the main stretch of the road.

Bicycling books, magazines and clothes are all for sale. Races are also shown on the main projector. Time was running against me, but I was intrigued by the live screening of the Tour of Poland later in the afternoon.

In a week where cycling within London has hopefully become more inclusive, it was reassuring to see that Look Mum has little of the snob factor that can sometimes become absorbed within cycling circles. Our couple of hours spent drinking coffee saw a range of different riders and bicycles enter the building - road racers, fixies, Brompton boys and girls, weekend hybrids, MTB’s and even a couple of those very nice bicycling Bobbies.

The coffee was the quality that you would expect for the £2.40 price; the food looked incredibly tempting. The sausage pie in particular almost got the better of me, but I feared it would slow down my return passage climbing the category one climb that is the North side of Blackfriars Bridge.

A morning of gossip soon passed. The guys in the workshop worked on a couple of bikes right next to where we were sitting. They were approachable, and happy to answer any basic bicycling questions. It is this shared sense of community that will hopefully keep Look Mum in business, once the current buzz of bicycling in London calms down once again.

With Old Street being something of a regular route for many London cyclists, Look Mum already has a potential passing trade. The coffee and cycling culture now established should hopefully see the business continue to build.

Chapeau!