Cycle City
Jun. 21st, 2009 01:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
millionreasonsTo Cambridge on a beautifully empty train through primary coloured fields (lemon curd oil seed rape, pillar box poppies). Lunch at Cafe Hippy (Rainbow Cafe) and then cycle out to a PYO farm which, contrary to mine and David's childhood recollections, has raised beds which makes it a lot easier for eating picking. The prices are cheaper in the farm shop; they seem to have taken into account the amount that somehow ends up in the stomach.
I've been to Cambridge before and never been that impressed, but on a bike it's a whole different kettle of spokes. It meets all my demands; there are cycle lanes separate from footpaths, cycle lanes ending in soft kerbs, one way streets with two way cycling, even a (fresh-painted) cycle lane on a busy A-road. I don't think I've ever seen a cycle lane on an A-road before - oh yes, I have, in Chingford, there were cars parked on it. It's like being in a proper European City. However, the train on the way back to London lets us down by only having one carriage for bikes and an old couple is sat in the way of it. I consider telling them that I'm a top BBC exec and I'll make sure that Lark Rise to Candleford is renewed if they shift their OAP arses, or threatening them with: Judi Dench'll never work in this town again, but settle for hissing: "I can have John Nettles killed", and they get off at Letchworth, suitably frightened.
Later we go out to HDIF which we haven't attended for 2 or 3 years since it decamped from accessible Highbury to the night bus hell of W1. Also, I was never interested in the guest DJ whereas Ian spun his 80s indie and 60s soul too early or too late for me. However, despite his exhortation: Don't be a DJ, Dickon is taking to the wheels of steel and I admire and respect hisrecord CD MP3 collection. He plays a satisfying mix of Orange Juice, The Shangri-Las, The Sundays, The Supremes, James, Strawberry Switchblade and the four to the floor-filler Tainted Love which, to me, is very Dickon; I first heard the original at his flat - I was, until then, under the impression that Marc Almond had written the song. And Carbrain by the Wake which reminds me of Fosca playing Athens, all heat and sleeplessness. Also, at my request, Sweeping the Nation from the album that is now ten years old, which doesn't seem to excite the kids as it once was. I suppose finding song from 1980 to be still relevant in 1990 would have been quite strange.
I love the spoken word bit:
Well that's my story and I'm sticking to that
I remember standing under Byker Bridge
in N'castle with Michael Bradshaw
and Mickey turned to me and saying:
"Shirley - don't worry,
as long as you stick to what you believe in
everything you want will come to you."
One thing I liked about Spearmint was their Dexys-esque earnestness (tempered with a sense of fun), their Keeping The Faith soul attitude (and samples). There's a northern soul dancer here tonight replete in flares and dance floor twirls. He looks great (but funny when dancing to Heavenly). There's a girl dancing in a 1992 way (pelvis forward, lega akimbo, hair a-whirling), there's a beautiful Swedish girl who looks like Eithne from Talulah Gosh in 1987 who jives with her rockabilly friend. There's also a few too many normals, people on a cheap West End nite out, the girls showing their thongs in the toilet talk about their friend who has just got a job in LA as Rod Stewart's nanny.
Sometimes I feel I've seen everything
and sometimes I'm just bored
but everybody feels like that sometimes
we've just spent too long indoors
I've been to Cambridge before and never been that impressed, but on a bike it's a whole different kettle of spokes. It meets all my demands; there are cycle lanes separate from footpaths, cycle lanes ending in soft kerbs, one way streets with two way cycling, even a (fresh-painted) cycle lane on a busy A-road. I don't think I've ever seen a cycle lane on an A-road before - oh yes, I have, in Chingford, there were cars parked on it. It's like being in a proper European City. However, the train on the way back to London lets us down by only having one carriage for bikes and an old couple is sat in the way of it. I consider telling them that I'm a top BBC exec and I'll make sure that Lark Rise to Candleford is renewed if they shift their OAP arses, or threatening them with: Judi Dench'll never work in this town again, but settle for hissing: "I can have John Nettles killed", and they get off at Letchworth, suitably frightened.
Later we go out to HDIF which we haven't attended for 2 or 3 years since it decamped from accessible Highbury to the night bus hell of W1. Also, I was never interested in the guest DJ whereas Ian spun his 80s indie and 60s soul too early or too late for me. However, despite his exhortation: Don't be a DJ, Dickon is taking to the wheels of steel and I admire and respect his
I love the spoken word bit:
Well that's my story and I'm sticking to that
I remember standing under Byker Bridge
in N'castle with Michael Bradshaw
and Mickey turned to me and saying:
"Shirley - don't worry,
as long as you stick to what you believe in
everything you want will come to you."
One thing I liked about Spearmint was their Dexys-esque earnestness (tempered with a sense of fun), their Keeping The Faith soul attitude (and samples). There's a northern soul dancer here tonight replete in flares and dance floor twirls. He looks great (but funny when dancing to Heavenly). There's a girl dancing in a 1992 way (pelvis forward, lega akimbo, hair a-whirling), there's a beautiful Swedish girl who looks like Eithne from Talulah Gosh in 1987 who jives with her rockabilly friend. There's also a few too many normals, people on a cheap West End nite out, the girls showing their thongs in the toilet talk about their friend who has just got a job in LA as Rod Stewart's nanny.
Sometimes I feel I've seen everything
and sometimes I'm just bored
but everybody feels like that sometimes
we've just spent too long indoors
