Yesterday I saw a smaller-than-average person on a bicycle and it made me think. What does Killie think of bicycles? And then it occurred to me that Killie probably doesn’t think of bicycles because they’re not horses. So what does Charlie think of bicycles? Does he have one during his dark era of horflessness?
I remember Ken’s “vegan horses” t shirt but that was really much more about horses than bicycles. This post is also inspired by Janet & Julia meeting Syracuse and deciding that actually bicycles are a very good idea. (I assume a complete knowledge of Chrestomanci stories. Compared to O Holy Thunder Syracuse is a sweetheart.)
POV: it’s the 2010s, a November morning, somewhere on the towpath of the Kennet and Avon canal, probably near the train station in Bradford-on-Avon. It’s cold and the smoke from the boats lies low on the water. Two odd lads slow for you and then whizz past on their bike. They are undefinably but detectably boaters: in the brief moment of their passing you get a sense of wool and leather and woodsmoke, vegan flapjacks and strong coffee, and eco-friendly soap used sparingly indeed. The smaller one is riding backie - perched sidesaddle on the luggage rack, balancing like a gyroscope - and appears to be quizzing the guy doing the pedalling.
You pause thoughtfully in their wake, respecting the sheer capacity of the cyclist. Not only is he doing all the work, cycling for two on a rough and muddy towpath, he appears to be doing it while composing and memorising an undergraduate lecture on the plate tectonic paradigm, and also while wearing a kilt.
That guy’s got his shit together in a weird way for someone whose shit is otherwise clearly not together, you think, and continue on your merry way.
