Ring a ding ding

It's an overcast, dreary evening, at the end of a week where the weather decided to skip from winter straight to summer, and then suddenly remembered its supposed to do spring first. I spent the morning stretching my vocal chords (and spending some quality time with my new super best friend Bam the staffy) at Day Job Studios with Briscoe for what is going to be one hell of a record. We're about to head over to Matt & Cassie's place to partake in several wee drams of whiskey, but first I thought I best catch up on a few things.

I've taken to riding my bike as my main method of getting to work. Changing my thinking so that 'this is just what I do', rather than 'should I do this today?' seems to be working. There are only 36 days left until the Gong Ride and if I think too hard about that, it makes me quite anxious. So I just get up, get on the bike, get into work, and now it is just a part of my day. I can make it up the 'big hills' now - Terminus Street, Trade Street, and to a lesser extent, Albermarle Street, and while I always have to talk myself back to earth after Terminus, I'm definitely improving on some level.

I've been thinking a lot about the utilisation of a bicycle for making strangers laugh. You can ride straight in and out of the situation for maximum impact, which works if you get the laugh, but more importantly, works if you don't get the laugh and need to escape with embarrassment. Dogs are another good 'in' point. They are such a great catalyst for conversation.

Being a hesitant cyclist, I don't use my bell very often. Generally if I'm on the footpath, I probably shouldn't be, so I'll just trundle on behind pedestrians until I get a chance to move around them. I only use them if I'm on a bike path.

With these things in mind, Thursday's cycle was successful in 2 ways. I was coming home along Baltic Street, and 2 guys were sitting out on their front porch, singing with bar-room enthusiasm. One was vigorously strumming a ukelele and they seemed to come to the end of their piece just as I wheeled past. I rang the bell as my offering to the finale. One of them threw his hands up in the air in triumph and they both whooped and laughed. Thank you, occupants of Baltic Street, for being my second laughing stranger(s).

Coming up the home stretch, my legs fatigued and so I moved onto the footpath. A small curly-haired toddler seemed to think I was the most amazing thing he'd seen in ages. "Mum!" he hollered, "Mum! Bike! Bike! Bike!" As I went past, I rang my bell at him, and his little face lit up. "It's a nice one!" I overheard him exclaim to his mother, before yelling "BYE!" after me. I returned the farewell and rode the final block feeling pretty sunny inside.

The toddler didn't actually laugh so I can't count him, but I still thought it was a nice story.

The following night, my back light fell off and smashed and it took me ages to fumble around in the dark lane looking for where the batteries had rolled to. Then closer to home, I had my first altercation with the part of the chain coming off. For a while I flusterred over it, then I calmed down and realised it was very easy to fix. My hands got greasy. I think that means I'm a proper cyclist now.