1993 Biking Britain
Pubs
Britain’s
pubs are famous for their hospitality and I confess I spent many an evening
(and afternoon) chatting to locals down at the local. The Black Bitch, the
Board and Elbow, the George and Dragon, the Leg of Mutton. Great names, great
grub, great times.
Friends revisited
In Bathgate I stayed with and was spoilt by
Raymond and Rena, the parents / parents-in-law of my very dear friends, Laura
and Scott, whom I met while filleting fish in Iceland
in 1984 and last saw in Michigan
in 1985. I spent three nights with them – taking in a family gathering to
celebrate the passing of exams; a day trip to lovely Edinburgh;
the Firth and Forth bridges and the birthplace
of Mary, Queen of Scots. And enjoying particularly our long evening chats and
the thrill of talking to faraway Scott and Laura on the phone.
In Oblivia last year, on the shores of Lake
Titicaca, I met Jackie and Roger and Steve and Greg, and spent several days
getting to know them in Copacabana, Huatajata, Sorata and La Paz. I spent five wonderful days with
Jackie and Roger in their beautiful new home in Birkenshaw, just south of Bradford. We were joined there on the Saturday by Steve
and Greg, who trained up from Bristol
and Carshallton respectively. We lunched in the oldest pub in Britain (it is
mentioned in the Domesday Book); went out for pizza and red wine as a reminder
of our nights in Sorata; and took in a David Hockney exhibition and Harewood
House with its wonderful Chippendale furniture. I took the train to York on one of the days.
And enjoyed particularly our long evening chats, meeting the family, the
laughter and the new kittens, Ada
and George.
With careful management I got to see all
four of them again. I spent three nights with Steve in his communal home in Bristol where Greg joined us and acted as guide to Bristol and Bath.
And once I had reached Land’s End, Greg and I met in London
to stroll marvellous Kew
Gardens. I spent the
night at his parents’ home south of London in
order to lunch on the following day with him and with Steve and his girlfriend,
Catherine, en route from Bristol to Turkey. A few
days later I took a bus to Birmingham to spend the day with Jacki and Roger,
who had driven down to visit Jackie’s mom.
In 1983, while picking grapes in France,
I met young James (O’Brien) , who used to squeeze me and his good friend, James
(O’Dowd), onto the back of his motorbike and take us into the village to play
pool and drink cheap red wine at the local pub. Then 18, he is now married to Christine and has two lovely daughters. I spent an
extremely pleasant two nights with them in Chesterfield. Comfortable, homely nights in a
comfortable happy home. Watching videos, eating take-aways and catching up on
nine years of news.
Stacey, with whom I programmed computers in
the early-80s, and who now lives in St Albans north of London, not only
collected me from Heathrow and let me spend a few days on my way north, but put
me up and put up with me for over two weeks on my way home. We shopped and
cooked and argued and giggled and solved the problems of the world and watched
videos and went to the Cotswolds for three days. And as usual I loved being in
her company.
Stacey and I wet pub-crawling and to dinner
with Chris in London one evening. We had met and moved in
with Chris for three months in 1983.
She was incredibly kind to us then and it was great having an opportunity to
catch up on the backlog of news and reaffirm what we know of each other.
And finally I got to spend an evening with
talented young Jim with whom I had shared deck space on my journey through the
Amazon in northern Bolivia
last year. We met in a pub near Covent Garden
and over drinks talked of the wonders of south America, the joy of cycling, and
our future plans.