Revolutions of Memory

Nothing quite like a journey through the smog of London on a bike. Especially on a bike that does not do fast. Not that I would zoom all the time. But every now and again I need to know that I could.

My bike is a stately procession of a piece. This cannot go on. The seven fast gears do not seem to exist. Thus I am in a 14 gear cruiser state.

And on the flat bits that is rather frustrating. I don't have this kind of quandary in Paris. There the bike is technically worse. It is heavier and bulkier and I can barely lift it up.

But I can whizz through the city.

Going along at a languid pace does allow a certain amount of contemplation. The voyage from Streatham to work is full of memory. And they seem more vibrant because the journey is seldom undertaken.

I think about Character X going past a certain door or Character Y as I glide past the common. Is this what advancing years do to you?

There's a strong case for going somewhere completely new.