THE THESIS

THE QUESTION

Right, I’m determined to do it. I’m going to write a blog entry not about films. I swear there must be other things in my life. There must be.

Soo...football? Music? Family? God no.

Okay. Yes, indeed. For all my fine talk I do have a day job. It’s not great, it’s not awful and it roughly covers the bills. But that’s not what the blog’s about.

THE ANSWER

I’m going to write about cycling to work. Okay. Go with me! Excitement.

Yes, I attempt to cycle to work as often as possible. Given the current state of the weather, this is a lot of fun in its unpredictability. Yesterday, I closed the front door and down came the wet snow. Arrived ten miles later utterly soaked. I spent half the day walking around the office barefoot because I’d forgotten my socks. That’s how I roll.

I forgot these on Monday

Why do I cycle ten miles to work and ten miles back when I could just go in the car? Well, maybe you’re not like me but I have this annoying disability that never allows me to put my life into perspective. I have this perpetual virtual timeline in my brain that says you started in 1966 and, the randomness of existence willing, will probably stop somewhere around 2030. This never goes away. 

So any time I spend doing things I don’t like or feel are important is scary. Those minutes are burning off for no discernible reason. We can agree to disagree on what you and I consider ‘important’ but sitting in a car at a roundabout is pretty low on that list.

Okay, no one wants to go to work – unless you work in film obviously – and my job is particularly pointless. But when it’s burning calories on a bike at least I’m doing something positive during these eight hours of waiting for it to be over. Narcisstic? Self-obsessed? Hubristic? Check my job description: I’m a writer. What do you expect?

NO INTEREST IN BIKES

No interest in this

Got to tell you, I’ve no interest in bikes. I quite like exercise: played a bit of footie in my time. One of the reasons for my indifferent career success is that I like and am reasonably proficient at lots of things. 

And in this world, success comes to those who only do one thing and do it all the time. My SF Doctor Who type colleagues deplore sport in all forms and probably think they’re only played by bullies. Likewise, my sport friends think I’m weird for doing Doctor Who and films and that. I’m sort of okay at most things; not brilliant at anything. Hardly excited by anything. Except films and writing and acting.

I would very much like to do sailing and snorkelling and diving but I can’t afford it. I do go running because it’s cheap. But bikes? No. I hate anything physical involving gear. I am the world’s worst DIYer, or maintainer of anything mechanical. (One day I’ll write a blog about the time I paid loads of money to nearly become an electrician – but the scars haven’t healed). 

I am often passed on the A259 by lycra clad men in their forties riding two hundred gear feather-weight kinetic machines. Good luck to them. They obviously see this as important, in the way it’s important for car people to get stuck in that next roundabout queue as quickly as possible. Same with enthusiasts of television, dogs, cats, drum ‘n’ bass music, Apple products, anything to do with houses, car insurance and general male banter. I am not part of that human race.

This makes these men feel cool

My bike sat in an alley for four years until I got this contract. It’s a hybrid, apparently, which means it’s okay on road and grass. In moderation.

I quite enjoy the contempt and aggression directed at me by drivers – especially those women in their 4x4 containing one child who spot me at roundabouts – and pull out anyway. I’m a driver, and I hate cyclists and their stupid clothes and how they get in my way when I’m on the road.

LIFE

I mainly enjoy the cycle to work because it does remind me I live in a real world more than my own little closed circle. The awareness that you could be killed any minute by some half-asleep bad-tempered provincial who does this journey every day in a metal death machine they barely understand concentrates the mind wonderfully.

What I see when riding to work

There is the thrill of actually navigating the UK’s badly maintained and cycle-hating roads. The begrudged miniscule cycle lanes between Goring and the railway bridge are particularly exciting, with the illegally parked delivery vans, self-important mums who ‘don’t give a damn’ and car door opening pensioners. It’s not London so there’s some actual countryside and stuff to look at if you like that sort of thing.

ROUTE FUN

You can skip this bit if you like.

Basically, I start with my immediate area, down a few local streets. The first great bit is the underpass that cuts out the death trap of roundabouts in the centre of town. Bye bye jammed drivers!

Feeling smug, I then get some speed up and weave around to the first crucial right hand turn at the mini-roundabout at the side of Victoria Park. This is where I first annoy drivers who believe wrongly I’m slowing them down in their dash to the next set of red lights. Once we’re round we’re on the proper road and don’t have any more scary right turns (UK rides on the left, obviously).

The A259 here from here to Goring is a bit unpleasant, as the road is narrow and there are lots of builders, electricians and plumbers on their way to jobs. The smell of dope is very strong as the vans pass. Along Goring High Street where Mark works. Never seen him in his shop and he’s never seen me. Surprising as I’m wearing a bright orange coat, helmet and black tights. Running tights, okay.

Over the railway bridge, onto the A259 cycle path and past the new Asda, then the new Sainsbury’s...I’m stopping there. You gets me.

 The new ASDA at Ferring when it was being built

MY BIKE

There’s a whole lot of stuff to do with biking to work. A ritual of bags, locks, spare clothes, lights and keys I find bewilderingly rewarding. I like these small but vital pieces of equipment you can’t do without. I definitely feel fitter and better for my little 40 minutes forays into the real world. It plugs me in to the raw stuff of life. I see the patterns of civilisation swirling and there is a feeling of achievement in labour. And there’s a great downhill bit near Littlehampton.

No distractions: just me and the road (I think what one is supposed to write when one is banging on about bike stuff). And because of where I live there are no hills.

Best of all, cycling to work is nothing to do with films. It’s cathartic. You’d probably hate it.

I will probably go back to writing about films next time. That’s the day job and I can work from home.