are you at work?

I am at work.

But how did you get there?

Did you park yourself near King George Sq, gets yourself a hot cross bun, a sweet Emma and Tom juice, a delicious Plenty Food bowl of museli and maybe win a special Crumpler bag? (Is this gratuitious? I’ve never been good on the promo, but sometimes, people deserve recognition, because if no one fronts on the sponsorship, then no one gets fed.) Biggest thanks of course to BICYCLE QUEENSLAND, where you are a member, not a number.

It was a takes all comers kind of affair, the beautiful carbon bike nestling in comfortable alignment with your beat up bone rattler. I like to see this kind of mingling. It’s like an excellent dinner party with Eleanor Roosevelt sitting beside Geri Haliwell, sitting beside my Nanna. Actually, I’m not sure it’s like that, but it’s something kind of nice to see everyday commuters beside serious roadies and everyone getting on their bikes. And getting along  so durn well.

Prettiest couple for my mind were Bridget and Paul from Practice Bicycle who just had the most get out of town matching.

My grandma would be proud of them, she always said, “never be afraid to match, clashing is for cheap girls”. Course, I’m not sure that’s actually a registered saying, but it’s sure as hell stuck in my head.

Now, that’s love. Or at least serious commitment, which is kind of the same thing. If you’re lucky they’ll take you to France and Italy. Speaking of which, I keep tossing around the idea that I will visit both places in September. I don’t quite know why. It’s been a long time since I travelled anywhere but the Pacific and it has, until recently, not seemed possible. I don’t think I could get myself into gear by July, but why not September. Seems Paul and Bridget might be there at the same time.

A couple of other interesting things happened lately. Bjorn from the Rollers got in touch to discuss how to get more women rolling, which I think is actually really impressively considerate. Anyone else got any good ideas? And Kyle J Ferguson got in touch to say that he is not too famous to be loved by me, though he is too late for me to love him at the Tweed Run. And I got told off for riding in the mall. God. So used to looking for bikes in circles crossed out on the ground, I missed the unobtrusive signs on the posts saying don’t ride here you big dill. Oops. I also think, in shopping precincts, the general signage is so overwhelming I can’t really see anything or I’ve kind of self-protectively learnt to phase out the signage because it makes me want to shop. But hey, I’ve learnt my lesson once.

Oh, and this song is stuck in my head.

As a complete aside.

And now my lunch hour is over, so back to it.