Willowy, slight as one of the twigs bristling at the end of her nostalgically-fashioned broom, camouflaged against the day, she stood, sweeping. In her ears, as if straight into her conciousness, music played through tiny white earphones. Her hips swayed with the rhythm of music and sweeping, her eyes down-turned towards the sodden leaves that plastered the concrete. A black plastic sack rustled next to her, its crumpled surface rippling in the November breeze. It was a warm day, the first after two of wind and rain.

She did not see how it happened, heard only, above the sound of her earphones, the cry of surprise, the sharp scrape of metal on concrete: the sound of a bicycle losing its traction on the decaying leaves and throwing its rider to the floor. She looked up, pulled out her earphones, saw a student lying in the road, curled into the foetal position. She gasped, dropped her broom, ran towards him. There was no one else around. Already the student was picking himself up, assessing the damage. He wore an open chequered shirt over his t-shirt, the sleeve of which had been ripped by the fall.

(more…)

i think i mentioned it before but my bike got stolen – well they caught the guy who stole it – wouldnt you just know it – he was a chav – yeah – they showed me a picture of him – baseball cap and everything – it was this pixellated CCTV still – from like a cash converters or somewhere – cos the police had sent out the description of my bike to all the second-hand shops – silly bastard – he might have known the police would do that – so when they caught him they came round my house – to take a statement (more…)

I

It is early morning, around eight o’ clock. The bicyclist begins his preparations. The shorts are first; Lycra. The black nylon strands reflect the ambient morning light in a criss-cross circle as they are pulled into place, slack at first, but then perfectly following the little contours around the calf muscles; a second-skin. Next; the top, a thin white vest under a tight jacket. This too wraps around the body, but not as tightly, reserving still some slack in its plastic threads. The zip tightens it considerably, running up its little tracks, making a slight click-clicking noise at it runs over each little tooth. (more…)

I like cycling: I cycle to university, I cycle to the shops and I cycle for pleasure. Part of the appeal of cycling for me, apart from the fresh air and the exercise, is the incredibly strong connect between intention and movement. When you’re cycling, all you need to do to change direction is shift your body-weight slightly to one side or another, and instantly you’ve altered your trajectory. You don’t even have to think about. Now where else do you have this simplicity of movement? (more…)