The Bell Works

It was a relatively easy commute to work today.

I caught the earlier, busier train this morning. When I got on the train, the first thing I did was to fold up the bicycle. This had two results: It didn’t take up as much space as when unfolded; it is more stable in the folded position – so no crash.

Unfolding it after arrival – on the platform – is also reasonably easy (although I’m not at the suggested ‘10 seconds’,  just yet – I’ll keep you posted).

So I mentioned that part of the journey is a cycle/pedestrian pathway (or so the signs say). The advantages of this are that it is wide (wide enough for at least three bikes and numerous pedestrians to be sauntering along without getting in each others way). It’s wide as long as there are no road works going on. I’m on my way home and as I approach the aforementioned road works one of the work men (a manager type) is standing right in my pathway. So I have three choices: 1) get off and ‘milk it’ (a term from yesteryear which essentially means to get of the bike and push); 2) keep going; 3) ride off the curb, avoiding the obstruction, but embracing all the riding off the curb brings with it (use your imagination).

I don’t know if you’ve ever had any double glazing fitted, but the recommended technique is to get three quotes then go for the middle one. The rationale being is that if it’s too cheap the work won’t be any good, if it’s too expensive, you’re paying over the odds for materials and labour. So go down the middle.

I did.

He didn’t move.

Time to ding the bell. He didn’t move (didn’t even look). Ding the bell again… nothing. So as I approach critical path (where I and he meet in a not-so very graceful fashion) I keep dinging… and dinging. Finally, he gives up his stance and let’s me get past.

Suffice to say, that the bell works well.