For the first time in, ooh, 10 years or so I own a bicycle. The last one I owned was a racer which I sold when I got my first motorbike back in Eastleigh. I’d thought about getting a bike in London a few times but never got around to it. Today I bought one. It cost me £45 second hand plus about £40 in extras.
The day started with a lift into Newport, the main town on the island, for a day of wandering around. By 12.00 I’d bought the bike but had to wait three hours for them to fit the mudguards and rack, so I went to the Quay Arts Centre for tea. My main reason for going, other than tea, was to see what kind of Art things were going on on the island and while there was little of interest on the notice board, one thing did jump out – a mail art program run in Rookley, a mile or so north of where I’m staying. Art On The Green have their next exhibition on June 14th and submissions have to be in by the end of May. The theme is ‘threes’. Not sure if I’ll contribute, but if I do there are three lambs in the kitchen at the moment…
The main art exhibition at the centre was a painter who’s name annoyingly isn’t in the events leaflet I picked up. She paints trees and very beautifully with great texture. I was particularly taken by a small room of her source photography, one of which was blown up with a photocopier to approximately life size. As I used to do this kind of thing it was great to see and I took a surreptitious photograph.
Their next interesting show is by Abigail Hunt, running through June, which appears to consist of books and texts cut up, and appeals to me.
You can buy postcards from the Newport Tourist Information Centre for 14p. I felt that worth mentioning.
Picking up the bike I, with great trepidation, started to make my way home. After a shaky start across a park the road out of Newport was pretty steady going. A bit of a shock when I turned onto the bridleway – corners, gravel, help! – but steady going. It all kicked off when I got to the middle of the island and the joys of hills. This was when I realised how little I’d used certain muscles since 1993, and how damn unfit I’ve become in my adult life. Pain shooting through my thighs, lungs on fire, sweating pouring from my head, I struggled the four miles home in 45 minutes.
Still, nothing unexpected. With the digging and lugging on the farm and cycling at the weekends I should be fit in, well, some time or other. The advantage of this knackering bike ride is at least I’ll get to sleep okay tonight. Insomnia would be a bad thing in this caravan cos it’s so bleeding cold in here.
The weather has finally broken. It’s been a cold day for the first time in a week with little sun and the wind has really picked up. The forecast is for a bit of rain but not much, which is not really good for the farm. The plants are dying and the ducks are getting desperate as their pond is dry as a bone. M’s concerned – this doesn’t normally happen until mid summer. As for me, I’ve been wearing my woolly hat constantly for the last 24 hours. I put it on when I went to bed and it stayed there all night – I think the same will happen tonight. I brought enough jumpers with me, but only just, and I’m kicking myself for leaving my gloves and scarf behind. Island + countryside + caravan = quite a bit colder than London, especially when the sun goes down. Remember that one.
