On a wingnut and a prayer: Bromptons in Brompton

Bromptons, the iconic folding bikes (right), are named after the Brompton Oratory (right), a big Catholic church in the Brompton Road area of west London (right).

(The Catholic church has a saint for everything, of course. The one representing cycling is Madonna del Ghisallo. Television is St Clare of Assisi, and the Internet is St Isidore of Seville - handy to remember next time your connection keeps getting dropped while you're trying to book your summer holiday.)


According to the church's website, the name 'Brompton Oratory' is incorrect, though that's exactly what the sign outside calls it. They maintain its correct name is the Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, but I wouldn't have been so keen on a folding bike called 'Mary'. Still, Brompton Square isn't exactly a square either, I suppose. More a sort of circle you move in.


Anyway, you don't see many Bromptons parked round here. Presumably the owners simply take them inside the shop or restaurant or whatever, rather than leaving them to the mercy of the guys with greatcoats and bolt-cutters. Or relying on any hopeful prayers to the Madonna del Ghisallo.

Cycle lanes: A load of Jackson Pollocks

US abstract painter Jackson Pollock, aka 'Jack the Dripper', was a Real Cyclist.

We know this from Ed Harris's portrayal of him in the 2000 film Pollock. In once scene, a drunken Pollock ferries a basketload of beer home, only to crash en route (right), creating an impromptu artwork across the tarmac.

(And, hah, helmet advocates! He's not wearing a helmet and look, he's PERFECTLY OK! Well, they say that drunks fall in a relaxed way.)

Excitingly, new research by academics over at Waltham Forest suggests that Pollock created an early work in north London, presumably while cycling, too.

More stolen wheels in the frame

We're all familiar with this sort of thing: a bike left with only the frame locked. Once the wheels are liberated, the owner can't be bothered to move an unwheeled piece of modern sculpture, and leaves it there to rot. This was on the rails at Vauxhall.


Such bike-skeleton public art seems to be getting more popular. This one's been round the corner from us for ages.


But this rack - somewhere in that little bit of Turkey between Kingsland Road and Stoke Newington - is just ridiculous: four frames and not a single wheel left, as if someone had started trying to model Paris's Pompidou Building. Hmm. The fact that it's outside a bike shop might have something to do with it...

What happens to all those wheels? Is someone assembling a vast artwork or rotating, copiously-spoked installation somewhere? Modern art is all about asking questions, I suppose.

More comedy cargo: High stakes

Had to cycle this fence-post home from B&Q this morning. I should have painted 'Vampire Bicycle Response Unit' on the panniers.

It was actually quite comfortable to cycle with the bike like this, though bare summer legs wouldn't have been a good idea, despite the mild weather at last. Those splinters can be hard to winkle out when you have to use a mirror to see them.

Of course it's not the first time I've done something like this. If I got stopped by a copper and done for dangerous cycling, I'd have to ask for several similar fences to be taken into account.

Railing about cycle-train awards

Somehow I missed the announcement of the National Cycle Rail Awards on Wednesday night. (We don't have a television, so I expect you all know about it, as it must have been announced live and featured on the evening news.)

The event is sponsored by the train companies, so it's completely unbiased. Just like the forthcoming Cycling Blog of the Year Awards, to be held at my house tonight, and sponsored by my fridge.

The National Cycle Rail Awards have been going since 1997, although they didn't take place in 2000 - presumably there wasn't enough space or it was rush hour and they weren't allowed in - but I'd never heard of it.

Still, I thoroughly approve of this sort of thing: any excuse for a few drinks and a bit of back-slapping in the House of Commons Members Dining Room is fine by me. Leave them alone, they've done nothing.

The awards are all about leaving your bike at the station. The ideal cyclist customer is a commuter who locks their bike at the station's non-existent cycle park instead of driving there. Not one who tries to clutter up that valuable standing space on an actual train with their pesky mobile cattle-prod. How about a National Cycle Awards anti-award for Crossrail, which won't be allowing any bikes on its services at all?

Anyway, congratulations to the winners, and let's hope the pictures in the winners' brochure are not doing them justice, because I don't think they'll impress our colleagues in the Netherlands. There, as we know, every station has two million parking spaces, free massages and a 24-hour hash cafe. Here, a scruffy piece of tarmac by a bush wins a national prize.


The winner for 'most innovative approach to cycle-rail integration' went to the 'world first' of the 'stations made easy' website, which promises an 'interactive cycle parking guide'. Er... right. In fact, it's less like a Nintendo Wii game, and more like a lot of pictures with a brief description, or as we IT people call it, 'a website'.

But thorough that site certainly is, apparently covering every station in the country. At Kings Cross, for instance, the map of station (right), and mouseover snaps of the cycle racks, informs you that there are three cycle parking locations (Platform 1 and around Platform 9) with a total of 102 covered racks. You have to wander round the map a bit to find the cycle logos, just as you have to wander around the station in real life, so perhaps it is quite a good simulation after all.

Actually I think their figure for racks is a guess. As soon as they build the racks, they fill up with with triple-parked bikes before anyone can count them.

Your Cycling Horoscope - 2

Things are quiet today, so here's another Real Cycling horoscope, specially personalised for you (like the previous horoscope).

Aries (20 Mar–20 Apr) Many taxi drivers actually have a soft spot for cyclists, as you find out when one runs you into a pile of builder's sand on Southwark Bridge.

Taurus (21 Apr–20 May) A long thoughtful walk by yourself is often a good way to solve a problem. Unfortunately it won't solve the problem of having had your front wheel nicked five miles from home.

Gemini (21 May–20 Jun) Part of you wants to play the Good Samaritan when you come across Jeremy Clarkson's car stuck in a remote rural ford. However, you also have a good sense of humour, as well as a video camera and a YouTube account.

Cancer (21 Jun–21 Jul) You're always prepared to go the extra mile to get what you want. Just as well, as you're looking for cycle parking on Regent St.

Leo (22 Jul –22 Aug) It's time to stand up and be counted. Unfortunately what they're counting is collision stats, and you can't stand up any more.

Virgo (22 Aug–Sep) You're ready to take the rough with the smooth, but that road surface on Manor Place off Walworth Road is just ridiculous.

Libra (20 Sep–21 Oct) Take everything with a pinch of salt this evening. You'll need it, because the council gritters haven't been out yet.

Scorpio (22 Oct–21 Nov) Something you haven't seen for months unexpectedly reappears today: Mars. You really must stop putting chocolate in your pannier and forgetting about it.

Sagittarius (21 Nov–20 Dec) After years of study of Hampton Court's hedge puzzle, maze-solving algorithms, and laboratory rat behaviour, you finally discover the solution to the London Cycle Network.

Capricorn (21 Dec–20 Jan) As if being a witness to that bank robbery wasn't traumatic enough, the actor playing you in the Crimewatch reconstruction is older, fatter and uglier than you are, and the bike rather better.

Aquarius (21 Jan–19 Feb) This is a good time to campaign for better bike facilities at work, such as secure parking, showers and changing rooms. Because you're going to have unlimited time to do it, as you'll discover when your sombre-looking boss calls you for a quiet word this afternoon.

Pisces (19 Feb–20 Mar) Be prepared to meet people halfway today. Tell the driver who just cut you up that he's a cu and a wan.

You say tomato, I say paradicsom

There's an interesting new publication, put together by one of those European Acronyms the EESC and brought to my attention by Carlton Reid, which is a kind of pan-EU phrasebook for cyclists.

It consists of a series of pictures of bike parts, cycle infrastructure and so on, with the term describing it underneath in 23 eurolanguages.

So, if you want to know what 'mountain bike' is in Polish (rower górski), or 'bike hire' in Italian (noleggio bici), or 'shock absorber' in Greek (aposbestiras kradasmon), then this is the place to come.

And if you're not sure how to pronounce anything, you can just point at the picture. And if all else fails, just shout English VERY SLOWLY, omitting all the definite and indefinite articles, like my granddad used to when he was anywhere foreign, such as Lancashire.

It's all good fun and may well come in useful, especially in places such as former Soviet-sphere states. Or Lancashire. And it's amusing to wonder why the Lithuanian for 'basket' should be as cumbersome as metalinis krepsys dviraciui.

The choice of languages may raise a few eyebrows: Irish Gaelic but no Welsh, for instance. Realistically, how likely is it that you'll be stuck in Ireland with a flat tyre and require the assistance of a 104-year-old fisherman from the Gaeltacht?


And there's a few oddities in the English, too. What I'd call a 'pannier', they call a 'bicycle bag' (German, Fahrradtasche). Where I'd say 'lube', they say a touch unnecessarily 'bicycle oil' (Slovakian, olej na retaz).

And what we might call 'trouser bands' they refer to as the Larkinesque, good old-fashioned 'cycle clips' (Hungarian, nadrágcsipesz).

But it's in the infrastructure section that things fall apart a bit. Some of the English here is hopelessly wrong and misleading. For instance, the thing they call 'advanced cycle stop lane' (Slovenian, prednostni prostor za kolesarje pred kriziscern): the accurate English term is in fact 'taxi rank'.

Then there's what they deem a 'marked cycle lane' (Bulgarian, markirana koloezdachna aleya). It's what any normal English driver would call a 'car park'.

And there's what purports to be an 'underpass for a long-distance cycle route' (Maltese, mina twila taht l-art ghar-roti). In England, it's what we'd call a rubbish dump and public toilet.