proper gear

It was mostly flat where I grew up, especially within bicycling-range as a smallish child; certainly flat enough for Sturmey-Archer three-speed gearing to be sufficient. Until relatively recently there were a couple of bicycles formerly used by my sister and I hiding in various parent-sheds with their simple hub gears still in place (along with one of my dad's old bikes, thirty years older but similarly-equipped) though they have all since been disposed of somewhere. If I ever have the space to have more than one bike then an upright, springy-seat, low-maintenance (all I remember ever having to do to hub gears was occasionally tighten the little connecting-chain thing or replace the cable), quite old, heavy, thief-deterring and accoutred-for-comfort-and-convenience thing would be far above anything else on the shed-filling list. It would probably be fine for city-centre running-about, popping for shopping and so on but long-distance and hill-involving journeys would probably require something with a bit more gear-range and streamlining. Shortly after classes stopped at school prior to my A-levels I had to borrow my dad's old bike (not sure what was up with mine at the time) to pop briefly to school to return by loaned cornet, a journey which highlighted the limitations of the three-speed permanent-mudguard fat-tyred upright bicycle even on a 6¼-mile journey in goodish weather as it took me about twice the time it took on a more distance-friendly model. Three-speeds were far better for paper rounds, though, though sadly it was when doing a paper round that the rear mudguard stay attachment on my dad's old bike finally rusted away from the mudguard, caught the wheel and was pulled round, only stopping when the different centre of rotation caused it to clamp tightly to the wheel, cinching the edges of the rim and bending a few spokes; this disablement of the bicycle was what eventually drove it to be disposed of after a few years lurking in the back of a shed.

After a very quick work-Friday there were sufficiently few bosses about to delay my exit with the result that I might even have managed to work my first sub-contracted-hour flex-reducing week in almost a year, though it will be only a few minutes under if under it turns out to be. There was plenty of time to pop eastwards to catch David77 for a coffee and chat before heading home to pop out again (slightly more smartly-dressed) with Nicky to meet some of her work-friends to pop to see a show they'd booked on some sort of unknown basis which turned out to be inoffensively extremely weakly funny, though redeemed in place by a sketch mocking the easily-mocked people once memorably mocked in a Spitting Image song. The performers have apparently cropped up in a couple of back-channel comedies which no-one had seen, though I eventually worked out that one of them reminded me of someone from the television only because her face was very Sarah Beeny-esque. After having to run back home to get a new top for Nicky after she accidentally smeared wine over the one she was wearing by holding her plastic glass too close we ended up standing around the Pleasance Courtyard, occasionally being moved on by various staff who decided to attempt to direct queues to form exactly where we were standing. After the fourth time it was starting to get a bit tedious but we had at least ended up in a quieter corner where it was possibly to carry on the slightly odd food-and-diet-based conversation at a non-throat-straining volume.