Unfolding the Folder - The Nonsense of Southern Railways' Cycle Policy

This bike is pictured aboard the 18.19 train from Brighton to London Victoria. Trains travelling between the two cities at this time, and for six key hours every weekday, are subject to Southern Railways' cycle policy, which outlaws all bikes other than folders, like this Brompton.

Southern explain this policy as their way of trying to lessen inconvenience for non-cycling passengers, and presumably to accommodate more passengers on each train. This rule is enforced despite the fact that every fourth carriage on each train has dedicated space for two bikes, arranged with a layout which sacrifices none of the seating provided for passengers. For six hours every working day, these spaces are left empty. The only bikes permitted onboard are folding bikes, ranging from flexible, wobbly £200 efforts to more viable, reliable machines costing in excess of £500.

So, Southern tell us: Two wheels bad. Two wheels plus hinge good.

Time for a small experiment.

My employer has just acquired a Brompton for us to use as a company vehicle. A great idea and just the ticket for meetings in London or in Peterborough, home of our parent company. As a folding bike, it can be legally carried on all Southern trains, regardless of the time of day. But what if I took this bike on a train without folding it? What if I didn't fold the folder? Is a folder only seen as a folder when it's folded? Would it create some kind of inconvenience to my fellow passengers in its assembled stature? Would a guard (sorry - Revenue Protection Officer) ask me to collapse the bike into its folded form? Would I be thrown from the train as a two-wheeled trouble-maker?

Of course not. I wheeled the bike through the ticket barriers and parked it in one of the dedicated bike spaces where it remained for the rest of my journey. No-one was inconvenienced and no-one was denied any travelling comfort by the presence of my fully assembled bike.

Which begs the obvious question: If this bike was allowed onto the train in its full-sized, fully assembled state, why are regular, non-folding bikes forbidden? Bikes like the Brompton are great, but they are expensive, they handle strangely and they lack many benefits of regular full-sized bikes. To ban bikes from trains in the crude broad-brushed way favoured by Southern calls into question any attempt to acheive affordable 'integrated transport' as part of the relationship between the sibling cities of London and Brighton.

Some commuters previously mixing their modes of transport have given up and reverted to their cars. Others have tried the approach of locking up their bikes at railway stations, to the glee of bike thieves who are thriving in this new era.

When Southern first began to enforce their cycle policy, there were protests, petitions and news coverage. Maybe it's time to revisit this issue, before Southern begin to believe that this way of working is anything other than a terrible idea.

howies Autumn Catalogue

I've just been looking at the autumn catalogue from howies, the undeniably cool clothing company. Well worth a look. I'm not sure if it's just come out, or if it's been available for a few weeks, but it's the first time I've seen this one.

Even if, like me, you don't really like clothes shopping and fashion is a big turn-off, the four-times-yearly howies catalogue is a wealth of beautiful photography, thoughtful writing and fun ideas. I can't afford to buy much of their clothing, but that doesn't stop me from appreciating their catalogues.

There's a paper version on its way, but I'm just flicking through the PDF. This season's theme seems to be howies' local river, the Teifi, and other associated wateryness - rivers, streams, oceans, pollution and stuff like that. Good stuff. Get one.

La La La - I Can't Hear You! (Updated)

Okay, it's confession time: My name is Clive and I listen to my iPod while I ride my bike.

I'm sorry.

I've lost count of the number of friends whose faces have suddenly turned to looks of horror at the unexpected sight of me simultaneously wearing bike helmet and earphones.

Don't get me wrong - I'm a good guy. Before you start wagging your finger at a delinquent cyclist, I stop at red lights, I wear a helmet, I even have a bell. But I like a little music on my way to work. Is that really so wrong? Bikes and music are two sensory experiences I really appreciate, so enjoying both at once is a great way to start the day.

Yet this simple pleasure earns stern disapproval from concerned individuals - most of whom will express this concern from behind the wheels of their cars. "Oh you really shouldn't do that!" they say. "You won't hear the big lorries!"

What? Have you thought this through?

If I ride sensibly, and the traffic on the road drives likewise, the odds are that my progress will be unhindered by incident. And if I, or my fellow road users, make any stupid manoeuvres, I am at risk. Will someone please explain to me how this situation changes as soon as I pop a pair of headphones in my ears? Listening to music does not suddenly cause cyclists to swerve erratically from side to side as they ride. So why am I more at risk with a spot of music in my ears?

A while ago, a senior police officer was heard in the media to warn cyclists against the perils of riding a-la-MP3, following the tragic death of a cyclist who disappeared beneath the wheels of a lorry. Of course, it was her own fault - she was listening to her iPod at the time. The lorry (or its driver) must have been unavoidably drawn towards the device, for reasons I can't quite fathom. How awful.

If someone was stabbed to death while reading a book in the park, would police chiefs be lining up to warn of the connection between literature and knife crime? Would the assiallant likely have left their victim alone if they weren't engrossed in a Dan Brown on a park bench? Would the attacker get away with a reduced sentence in light of the circumstances? "The so-called victim is to blame m'lud, for he was reading a book when he died."

If you're really concerned about the safety of cyclists, don't nag me about my iPod. Put down your mobile, turn down the Phil Collins, slow down and give me some space. That will enhance my odds of survival far more effectively than forcing me to ride to work without my favourite tunes.

UPDATE 03/10/07

Okay, it seems this post provoked a reaction from some of my friends (I guess the friends I mentioned earlier). I have had a few emails, comments and Facebookings arguing the other side of the argument. Which is right and good, because, frankly, I was being a bit one-sided when I wrote the above.

So let me straighten it out a little: I do acknowledge that part of safe cycling in cities is about adapting to the behaviour of others. And I acknowledge also that without high sensory awareness, I cannot be aware of all this behaviour. I should make it clear that the vast majority of my commute, luckily for me, takes place on cyclepaths or very quiet roads with low traffic levels. There is one short portion of my daily ride which does offer more danger, and at which the iPod gets switched off and the headphones are removed from ears to dangle from my helmet straps. Anyone who knows Brighton knows how dangerous is the Palace Pier roundabout for cyclists.

So what was I on about in my original post? I suppose what I object to is not so much the fact that anyone should question the wisdom of riding with music; more the assumption that a cyclist is actually in some way to blame for any accident that befalls them while listening to their tunes. Switching off the music may, in some situations, put them in a better position to react to situations created by others, yes. But to suggest that other road users can use a cyclist's iPod as an excuse for their own dangerous driving (as virtually suggested by the aforementioned Australian policeman) is blatantly ridiculous.

So let's set the record straight:

Cyclists - Remember that your sensory awareness may be hampered by music, so listen wisely, if at all.
Motorists/Police/Journalists - Stop pointing fingers at cyclists' MP3 players or helmets. There is no substitute for good driving which avoids dangerous situations and the onus upon cyclists' defensive behaviour.

London Underground

Looks like there's a tube strike going ahead- BBC News

I'm not amazingly well-versed on the politics, rights or wrongs of the current situation. In fact, I don't even live in London.

But it's a great excuse to listen once again to 'London Underground' by Adam Kay and Suman Biswas.

Probably one to be careful with at work...

Knocked Up

All comedies are not the same, are they? Lots of films make you laugh but they do so in different ways. Some use toilet humour and crude Farrelly brothers slapstick, while others employ more sophisticated observations and characterisations to provoke our chuckles. And others star Hugh Grant.

The good news about Knocked Up is that the humour comes from so many different angles you can quite happily go along with friends from either school of humour appreciation.

The basic 'Boy meets girl, girl gets pregnant' premise of the film, the mismatching of the two lead characters and the ensuing gags are largely as predictable as suggested by the proficiently edited trailer.

But a range of secondary characters with their own nuances, situations and jokes mean there is still something to laugh at long after the knob gags have worn thin.

While Ben and Allison pursue their elusive goal of happy togetherness, we observe the quirks and problems of the relationship between Allison's sister Debbie and her brother-in-law Pete. The ideal of a happy stable married relationship is actually exposed as being just as difficult and unstable as the struggle of the two main characters to form a healthy environment for the birth of their forthcoming baby.

Okay, this is hardly a comedy masterpiece and probably shouldn't be considered for any awards. But if you're trying hard to gauge the suitability of a comedy for a mixed group of friends, you could do far worse that going to see Knocked Up. And there's no sign of Hugh Grant.

Happy Birthday Rebecca

Two or three years ago, I made a birthday card for my friend Rebecca. She's a bit of a fan of South Park, so I went to one those websites that lets you build a South Park character and constructed Rebecca in South Park style, then printed it off and used it as the basis for a birthday card. I think (I hope) she was quite chuffed.

Tomorrow is Rebecca's birthday once more, so keeping topical, I thought I might replicate the idea on the back of the current Simpsons hooplah. So off I go to the Simpsons movie website.

However, after having made the necessary adjustments to gender, body shape, hair, skin tone, face and clothing, I am disappointed to see that the finished result looks nothing like my friend Rebecca!

How Messrs Groening and co. can let me down like this I do not know. I expected better of their animation skills.

But for what it's worth, if you've never met my friend Rebecca, then rest assured, she looks absolutely nothing like this:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECS!
Sorry I can't make it to the party.

What Not to Watch In Flight

I've just got back from my long-anticipated biking trip to Canada.

I had an amazing time. But I'm still sifting through memories, notes and photos before I can write anything about it that makes sense.

While I'm composing my excitable thoughts, I will just take a moment to pass on my views on a trivial yet hard-to-avoid part of many holiday experiences. One of the first, and last, ingredients in the holiday - The dire mix of films shown during flights.

On my way to and from Vancouver from Heathrow, I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing five films, varying in quality from average to unbelievably bad. Here are my tips:

Shooter - A classic example of the 'So bad it's good' phenomenon. Action thriller with Mark Wahlberg and Danny Glover. Glover is a crooked FBI chief and Wahlberg is a retired military sniper, wronged by the army and living in peaceful retirement. You can probably guess the rest. In fact, to revel in the predictability of the cheesy nonsense, draw up a game of 'Thriller Bingo". Place bets with a friend on the likelihood of phrases and situations that are bound to crop up. The smart money is placed on the prediction of phrases like "You're on your own now, son", "This goes all the way to the top" and "They say you're the best. Are you as good as they say?". And, without wanting to spoil any surprises, who thinks the dog is going to end up with a bullet in the head?

Frequency - Dennis Quaid is a sixties fireman in an intriguing time-travel-related drama. I couldn't believe that this film is seven years old, so easily did it slip past my awareness thusfar. It begins slowly, then gathers pace and becomes fairly sophisticated, before descending into one of the most ludicrous endings a film has ever had. Enough to really spoil an otherwise passable movie. Try and watch the ending without collapsing into fits of laughter.

Music and Lyrics - It's a Hugh Grant rom-com, so we all know how the story goes. Foppish Grant repeatedly makes fool of himself with eccentric feisty female - Drew Barrymore this time. Hugely predictable yet, to be fair, enjoyable.

Wild Hogs - Awful. Awful awful awful awful awful. There is a huge gulf between the ideas of 'So bad, it's good' and 'So bad that everyone involved should be ashamed'. The main offenders in this terrible film are Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, John Travolta and Tim Allen. Four middle-aged men embark on a motorcycle road-trip in an attempt to reclaim their youth. If that sounds bad, I can assure you this is much much worse than you can imagine. Jokes revolve around comedy crashes, gay policemen, plastic bags of excrement and hen-pecked husbands. Lawrence has a history of terrible films - this is home turf for him. Allen and Travolta should be embarrassed by their involvement, but the real shame rests on the shoulders of William H. Macy. An actor who has been part of great films like Fargo and Boogie Nights should have run a mile from this stinker.

The Time Traveller - To be honest, I fell asleep before half an hour of this film had passed, but I hope it improved after I started snoring and dribbling into my in-flight meal. Guy Pierce was introduced as an eccentric professor with odd social habits and a penchant for time travel calculations. Listening to his English accent is nearly as odd as listening to Mark Addy's American accent. I quickly grew weary of this contrived set-up and abandoned myself to sleep. By the look of the Wikipedia plot summary, I made the correct choice.