Scottish Parliament's cycle parking takes shape

I was in Edinburgh this week, where the cycle campaign Spokes has just reported that there are more cyclists and fewer drivers in the city than ever.

It was hard for me to tell - I was too busy negotiating the tram-disaster roadworks in Princes St - but I was intrigued by these cycle racks.

They're splendidly situated in front of Arthur's Seat, which used to be a volcano; perhaps Arthur was too fond of the curried haggis.


The view the other way is the equally splendid Scottish Parliament building.

There I passed a happy hour spectating the Health and Sport Committee taking evidence on the Welfare Reform Bill legislative consent memorandum LCM(S4)5.1.


But the most distinctive thing is the shape of cycle racks, which have a touch of the Miró about them.

I wasn't quite sure how to lock my bike to any of them, to be honest.

Perhaps the absent-minded twisting of a few paper clips, during a particularly dull meeting of the Health and Sport Committee, was mistaken for maquettes of the new facility?

(Update: The mystery is partially solved by Tom's comment below... but only partially...)

Bicycling baronet to cycling Speaker?

We already have a cyclist mayor of London in Boris Johnson, and a potential cycling Prime Minster in David Cameron. Now, according to the BBC, one of the candidates to replace Michael Martin as Speaker of the House of Commons is Sir George Young, the 'bicycling baronet' who has a history of positive contributions to cycling legislation.

There are some backbench cycling MPs (such as Emily Thornberry) too. But we'd have to go some way to return to the kind of cycling levels among members of the House at the turn of the 19th century. A column in the Pall Mall Gazette of Saturday 13 August 1898 had this to say about the Parliamentary recess:


Parliament is away, and, to a large extent, awheel. In popularity with members of Parliament the bicycle can give many points to the motor car and yet beat that mechanical atrocity hollow. Nor is the passion for wheeling confined to any section or any party in the House. The Lord Advocate of Scotland is enthusiast enough to essay to travel northwards and homewards from Westminster by this agreeable means, though we doubt whether he will complete the journey in this way; Mr. William Field, whose robust brogue is the delight of the House of Commons, is one of the latest victims of the prevailing epidemic, while Mr. Healy's partiality for the cycle led him to defend the privileges of its riders with quite remarkable vigour in the House the other day. Sir John Gorst's lurid machine, coloured a Post Office red, is an object of daily wonderment in the Session, as he wheels gently down Victoria-street. Mr. Stuart Worley is a constant and careful rider; and Sir Howard Vincent is greeted with a benevolent grin by hundreds of his blue-coated former subordinates as he careers about the West End. The officials of the House, too, have quite taken to the exercise, and one of them, Mr. Archibald Milman, is at this moment covered with honourable bruises sustained in the too eager pursuit of this kind of pleasure. But the cycle is no respecter of the persons of its riders.

Thanks, as ever, to the comprehensive, searchable British Library website of digitised newspapers (it's paid-for with some free content if accessed outside the library, but all free inside).

Waterloo sunset

I came home early from work last Tuesday. My route takes me over Waterloo Bridge, which offers some of the finest cityscapes in the world. Downriver is the National Theatre, St Paul's, Tate Modern, and in the distance Canary Wharf. Upriver is the Eye and the Palace of Westminster.

Travel guru Simon Calder has cited Waterloo as his favourite cycling bridge - and, of course, on a bike you have the chance to take the view in at your own pace.

And last Tuesday, I just happened to be cycling over at dusk on a crisp, cloudless evening, at the orangest angle of sunset.

There was a buzz, like being at some once-in-a-generation natural event such as an eclipse. Commuters were stopping to grab it on their mobiles, and at least two well-prepared snappers had their tripods and interchangeable backs at the ready.

I didn't have a tripod, just the bridge railings, and it was very, very cold.