It’s been a quiet year in South Bridlington.
In 2023 I took over maintenance of the vegetable beds in the grounds of a local doctors’ (note the punctuation) house in Bridlington. It was a good climb up from the sea and the challenge each day did me good. The gardens include a splendid greenhouse which makes the germination and growth of seedlings a delight. An area behind the garage had become derelict, and I set about digging out 20 bags of rubble before preparing it to host potatoes. And then leeks. And then fennel.
Within weeks of me leaving the Council Allotment, threats of violence were made against the new chairman. I have always enjoyed upsetting people, but it never got that difficult.
Another pleasure which occupied the long winter evenings in January and February was typing up all the letters between Judy and me in 1963 and 1964. Hey, I’m a sentimental old fool. It was a joy to find in one of her letters to me the words “I like you”. It was a start. Sadly, she never developed the theme. I also found a few references to B. J. Allin, the Minister at Totnes Methodist Church. We also liked each other a lot. He died of leukaemia very young in the 1970’s. I kept tenuously in touch with his wife and daughter Jane who was 6 years old in 1964 and who now lives in Bridgwater. S.J.Cycles of Bridgwater made my most excellent bike. In 2025 I hope to contrive a visit to have them overhaul the bike and could visit her and maybe her younger brother. They may have grown up.
So what about the cycling? April 21st 2004 was the day I challenged Bradford Hospitals to keep me alive against all the odds.
They did.
I would complete the last long (ish) cycle ride of my life to say “Thanks for giving me an extra 20 wonderful years”. And counting. It is over 100 miles from our house to Bradford Royal Infirmary if you keep taking the wrong turn. The side roads were muddy, the rain poured down, my super-light-weight sleeping bag moulted and a replacement weighed a ton, But I did it. I also ordered another 1000 copies of the booklet “What Happened?” which Judy and I produced recording her record of events and my clear recollection of what went on in a parallel world. This contains the memorable record: 19th I had a bit of a scary experience. I was in our helicopter and found the controls very difficult to handle. It was quite frightening as the land came in and out of view. I eventually managed to land back in our garage. I’ll not try that again. Judy’s brother Phil came from Chesterfield. I asked him if he would like to get back using our helicopter, He didn’t want it and I felt put out. It was a genuine offer.
2 days later I was rushed across Bradford back to the Intensive Care ward with little prospect of recovery. Hurry hurry while stocks last. Further copies can be ordered from https://jbrip.home.blog
And that’s it. No more long distance rides. Well, maybe just one. Well, not many.
Once down in Bridgwater I will be almost back in Totnes, so I might have another go at cycling round all the villages containing Methodist Chapels I knew 70 years ago. That doesn’t count as long distance as you can get to Bridgwater by train.
In June I attended the annual Bachfest in Leipzig travelling by train. That was a mistake. The German railway system is nothing like as well run as British Rail. Trains were late and cancelled, In Frankfurt the train remained stationary for some time. “We do not know where this train is going. The driver has gone for instructions”. Fortunately there was a group of teenagers in my carriage who whooped and cheered, transforming what might have been a depressing situation.
The Bachfest was wonderful. We (we? Yes we) sang all the 40-odd cantatas that Bach wrote in a single year 300 years earlier. They gave us each a book Choräle des Choralkantatenjahrgans so that we could all join in the first and last verses of the Chorales for each of the cantatas. I bet the flash cards for German children learning to read are pretty impressive. Both churches at which the cantatas were performed hold over 1000 people. Being in a large congregation of enthusiasts singing 4 parts and more is exhilarating. My eyes leaked. One evening I sat between an excellent tenor from the USA and a member of Lausanne Opera. We were good.
Another evening I sat next to an elderly lady from Switzerland who told me that when her grandmother was young, each evening her large family would sing together hymns and songs before the children went to bed. That was probably in the 19th Century. A tradition worth repeating, chaps.
I lost my passport and had to go to Berlin to get a replacement.
In September Phil took me round Paris to visit significant locations relating to the 1871 Commune. That was the one when they ate the animals in the zoo when food ran out. We all know that the French eat horses, but elephants? Presumably cooked in a very large, very slow cooker.
I travelled to Paris with my bike by trains, cancelled and late.
A massive protest march by thousands of unhappy French people was noisy, but unable to compete with their comrades in 1871. The zoo was unaffected.
On the way back, cycling to Dieppe, I lost my replacement passport. A full report of my rescue as an illegal immigrant in Newhaven may be found in www.jbrip.uk. It will gladden your heart. Rummage around a bit and you will find a full report of the Leipzig venture. My third passport of the year is now safely waiting for next year’s cycle ride – maybe to the islands off N Holland/Friesland in April.
A major life-style change in 2024 followed a January resolution to model myself on Judy and her Wesleyan grandma Whiteley. They never told a lie. Ever. This does not come to me naturally. The world of your imagination is much more interesting than the real one at times. I have said less. Not a bad thing. All of it true.
2025 is going to be different. I am preparing for The End. Just wait.
Liberté, Liberté chérie (but with a touch of Methodist kindness) December 2024
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