Get cycling in London - but get off our roads

Interesting leader in The Times last week, pointing out the rise in bike accidents on Britain's roads, but the need to get people cycling (so we don't all drown under the rising Thames or turn into piles of blubber). The solution? Lot's of cycle lanes. Lots of comments helpfully point out the error of this view, although the two white vans and minicab who tried to cut me up today have begun to get me thinking along those lines...

Read more at Velorotion.

GTD & MSIA

Bromdinium is not the most organized of people, nor the tidiest. And he's increasingly got a pile of things to do. Rather pointless things, but a pile nonetheless.

So, January 1 saw a couple of resolutions. No. 1 was to try and get organized. The web was full of David Allen's 'Getting Things Done' - even the Guardian was on it. So I stumped for the book, and even a .pdf guide to sorting out MS Outlook and started to make lists of things; all seemed very sensible.

Still, there was something weird about Allen's prose. Lots of muttering about 'mind like water', lifechanging, even odd things like 'if someone doesn't write their next action down, I cut them out of my life', or 'try giving everything up, and descending into the darkest part of your soul till you have nothing. I've done that a few years ago', as well as other weird stuff, not to mention the flash web site and costly seminars.

Looking at a couple of mailing lists, the term 'cult' came up now and then - but only, I thought as a joke.

But reading this post about MSIA (short for the zanily titled The Movement of Spiritual Inner Awareness).

This is rather old news, and not exactly gospel, but makes more sense of the weirdness in the book.

Wiggle vs. Altura

Did I mention that I had to send the Altura Reflex jacket back?

Can`t fault Wiggle, who even refunded my postage. Two thumbs up to the Portsmouth crew.

What went wrong?

1. drawstring broke after three weeks
2. top drawstring started to fray

Other points:

1. terrible cutting of the fabric
2. stitching started to go around the neck
3. dubious about reliability of zip
4. cut a bit baggy, esp. at the front
5. baffle at top of zip not effective - zip rubs.
6. picks up dirt - esp. oil - like a seabird near Exxon.
7. clammy seam tape.

Still, it was pretty cheap all things considered.

Rapha part deux

It seems that Bromdinium was wrong. On his way to Blockbusters (now there´s a store without a future if there ever was one in the age of Netfliks, Virgin media et al) to return the Wedding Crashers (don´t you love Wilson?), Triple Agent (go Rohmer) and Serenity (not Wheedon´s best) DVDs, he spotted a Brompton lashing along Lupus Street.



And someone had been to the Rapha sale at Velurolution it seemed. Black rapha club cap, green club jersey, sportswool arm warmers. All rather natty. Put my retina-searing flouro to shame. B and R do mix

Avenue Q

Rather than dodging the hoards coming out of the Noel Coward theatre on his way home, Bromdinium paid a visit to Avenue Q the other day. And he rather enjoyed it, despite being annoyed that he thought it was all being sung along to a tape, then discovering that the band were hiding behind the Brooklyn street-scene.

Ah, to be 23 again.

Velorution and Rapha

Just like bacon and eggs, some things go together. Brooks and Brompton being one of them. The craftsmanship, use of traditional materials and the classic lines (not to mention gentlemanly comfort of these superior saddles) seem to go together like horse and radish. However, I'm not so sure about Brompton and Rapha, despite both turning up in the cooler pages of the broadsheets. Some people would argue (wrongly) that the Bromptoneer is more suited to tweed and pin stripe than the courier/biker/GQ lines of the world's most metrosexual - and stunningly desirable - cycling gear.

Nonetheless, Velorution are having a massive Rapha sale (yes, those softshell jackets for £145 rather than and unbelievable £210). Bromdinium, being a bit short of cash, but still in the market for a jacket, went to have a look. I was expecting it to be full of the too cool for skool crowd, but friendly staff. Rather model-like customers, so turnip head here stood out, but a cool, roomy store, with bikes the like of which Monocle might approve. Bromdinium is now the proud owner of two-for-price of one (they couldn't find the price tag) Rapha hats. The softshell jacket looked like something out of Star Wars crossed with a rather dapper Action Man, but the real classic looked to be the Stowaway jacket. The fabric felt like butter. (Though I suspect that the GI Joe stlyle windproof is the best bet for round town wear.)

Wearing one rather than the more sensible helmet turned Bromdinium, hulk like, into a speeding bike courier, swinging dangerously left from Oxford Street onto TTR... Must be all that talk of brevets...

p.s., ask me nicely, and I'll give you directions to the secret sale area of the Rapha site.

By the Power of Greystoke! (Hot Fuzz)

Bromdinium didn't always live in London: he's a West Country lad really, so a trip to the cinema to see what Edgar Wright had done to Wells was in order.

Not quite up there with the Romcomzom of Shaun of the Dead (which was filmed in Bromdinium's old local), and very much for the 16-year-old in us all. The McGuffin was as obvious as Glastonbury Tour, but all a lot of fun. Kind of the Wickerman meets the Bill via the Archers.

Best bits: the two Bill Baileys playing two different coppers, one always reading Ian Banks, the other, wilder haired, reading Ian M. Banks.

References to crusty jugglers, the ring road, and the Swan (hotel and Elvis, the real swan). Somerfield. All good Wells fun. Hestonn service station hell. Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits. The scene when they watched videos reminded me of what little there is to do there, except sit in the pub (and all the under-age drinkers seemed pretty accurate). And Tottenham Court Road Odeon let me bash around with the Brompton.

The worst bits: everyone walking the wrong way to get to places, the fact that it can't escape being a parody - a fond parody, nonetheless.

Not many people know this, but Bromdinium's sister-in-law went to school with Mr Wright, and there are videos knocking around of his early work making Westerns in the West Country while still at Well's Blue School.

Plus, B. had the hots at college for someone who's dad was the copper in Wells...

Job On! as Nick might say

Join the Fold (FT article)

"Finally, I ask the opinion of a senior diner at the Chelsea Kitchen restaurant on the King's Road, who always hails my Brompton and me like comrades in arms. He tells me an old army joke.

A paratrooper jumps out of his plane and pulls the ripcord. Nothing. He pulls the back-up cord. Again, no chute appears. As he hurtles to the ground he says: "It'll be just my luck now if I can't get the bike open."

And with that the whole Brompton experience folded neatly into place."

Missed this article by Dominic Swords in the Financial Times before Christmas. Good piece on the folding way, and Bromptons in particular.

Notes & Queries GTD shock

This was posted recently on a GTD list. The venerable, scholarly, and slightly unhinged Notes & Queries has the following moto:


"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE

"WHEN FOUND, MAKE A NOTE OF," is a most admirable rule; and if the
excellent Captain had never uttered another word, he might have passed for a
profound philosopher. It is a rule which should shine in gilt letters on the
gingerbread of youth, and the spectacle-case of age. Every man who reads

with any view beyond mere pastime, knows the value of it. Every one, more or
less, acts upon it. Every one regrets and suffers who neglects it. There is
some trouble in it, to be sure; but in what good thing is there not? and
what trouble does it save! Nay, what mischief! Half the lies that are
current in the world owe their origin to a misplaced confidence in memory,
rather than to intentional falsehood. We have never known more than one man
who could deliberately and conscientiously say that his memory had _never_
deceived him; and he (when he saw that he had excited the surprise of his
hearers, especially those who knew how many years he had spent in the
management of important commercial affairs) used to add,--because he had
never trusted it; but had uniformly written down what he was anxious to
remember."

http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext05/7n100110.txt

Wallpaper* 2.0

Tyler Brûlé's international brand (actually just a magazine at the moment), the dandyish-sounding Monocle (grandly subtitled 'briefing on global affairs, business, culture & design') launched yesterday. I picked up a copy at the decidedly unglamorous WHSmith in Victoria Station and flicked through a copy during the 1 o'clock news, expecting more briefings on homme's underwear than geopolitics.

Nice and thick (which is what you expect for a fiver) and, unless it flops (as a segment on R4's Today show predicted), a neat decimalized 10 issues a year, it exudes design thought (nay, obsession). The cover shot of a Japanese military pilot brings back the old Face magazine's 1980s fascination with Japan, but also happily blends style (TB seems obsessed with Japanese design) and a contemporary topic that's a bit off the radar, but will soon be bleeping loudly. (Think North Korea). And it's not as obvious as China.

But back to the design: an almost square small folio size, matte paper, a good contents page, 'serious' serif font. And full of interesting stuff. The ability to make the reader feel smug (as though they're really a global jetsetter, with several Bauhaus pads dotted around the globe) is undeniable. Get spotted reading one, and you'll look a complete poseur, mind.

I loved the review of Barter Books ('The British Library of secondhand bookshops' - The New Statesman - I'm tempted to comment but won't) in the, ahem, 'Well Stacked' section. More book reviews needed though - and where is the 'virtual' world in all of this.

And the photo-essay on Les Chaux-de-Fonds reminded me of my time in Besançon. The fun section on Porter bags owed a bit to Flickr's 'what's in my bag' group and - yes - revealed the expected Zimmerli briefs.

Finally, Monocle is cycle-friendly, easily stashed in an S-Bag, and with lots of plugs for Skeppshult bikes.

Only complaint - needs some sort of built in ribbon as a bookmark.

Marathons...

It's tough being a tyre in London. All those potholes, all that smashed glass and, to top it all, shards of flint from gravel paths. What with the rain, it's perhaps no surprise that I've had two punctures in two weeks, both to the rear wheel.

So, en route to work, with a flattening tyre, popped into Evans. The choice wasn't the greatest: Brompton Yellow (my current tyres), Brompton Green (with kevlar) and Marathons. No old-skool Primos, the elusive (and discontinued) Marathon Slicks, no Stelvios. It's taken almost 1500 miles for my Brompton tyres to feel grippy, so I can't wait that long. Don't give much credence to kevlar fibre belts in stopping punctures (seeing as most of them are from shards of glass), but the Marathon seemed thicker. So, after a half and hour of wresting, changing brake blocks while I was at it, it's on the back wheel. (N.B., the trick to get them on is to make sure the wire rims are as far into the central groove as possible, and pull them over/on, rather than push).

Immediate reaction is that the rolling resistance is barely any worse, but the bikes seems much less skittish. Discovered that the new model (above) has a supposedly even better 'snakeskin' tread, but I ended up with the 06 variant (15 quid) More reports later...

Meanwhile, the Altura jacket is showing its flimsyness: the cord around the neck is fraying, some of the stitching is coming undone, and the material is very badly cut behind the zip. It's also got a bit sticky - but as I've been wearing long-sleeved cotton under it, can hardly be blamed.

No Applause at the Royal Opera House

A bit of high culture for Bromdinium: Rhapsody and La Sylphide ballets at the Royal Opera House (in the cheap seats of course). All well and good (esp. the second act of La Sylphide). But, on arriving found a notice on the front doors of the Opera House: "No Folding Bikes". Thought this would be the case, so came via the Tube.

Yet, on leaving saw some ballet-goers picking up a case from the cloakroom. Shame they won't take Bromptons, even in a case.

Vocalized Pauses

Had to appear on a local radio station today (a long story), and discovered that I could 'listen again' thanks to the Internet. Braced myself for the usual recoil at the sound of your own voice, only to be struck by the vast number of 'vocalized pauses', e.g. um, er, hmm... Now, I don't think I normally do this, so I'll put it down to nerves. But how to get rid of them, without getting OCD?

Although I did hear a piece on the Today show, I think, on how short silences or gaps are even worse on the radio.

Also managed to pop in to the 'world's largest free lecture series' in the evening - a square-jawed Dr Tristram Hunt at the Royal Society of Arts, now under the command of the Easter-Island-esque (or should that be William Defoe) Matthew Taylor, late of No. 10 strategy unity. Dr Hunt was discussing the history curriculum, citizenship and national identity. Came up with some pretty sound middle of the road responses, and staked out the Raphael Samuel/David Starkey political divide quite well (and alluded to J C D Clark's thoughts on time, history and religion - but not the Enlightenment's discovery of history). The best thing was the describing the difference between being trained to be a historian, and the civic benefits of knowing about history. The important point - that history is mostly boring to school kids (all subjects have a defining feature, e.g., geography=colouring in; English=reading out loud; maths=calculators; chemistry=bunsen burners) and that wider interest happens despite history lessons (at least before A Level) wasn't touched upon. At least there was general agreement that citizenship classes are a disaster, unless the subject matter is incorporated into other disciplines.

More prosaically, London braces itself for more snow ce soir.