Oh really, winter?

Two can play at that game. Or something.

Winter light

Ah, winter. The cold fresh air hitting your rosy cheeks. Low sun and first flakes of snow. Mulled wine, cosy nights in, warm kisses under the mistletoe...

I bloody hate it all.

Every year, from the last golden days of October, I succumb to a dark, creeping, humming panic. November is a dark month. The clock change leaves me in a listless, lethargic heap on the floor, wailing as the nights close in, the mornings ever darker. The super-bright SAD light makes me feel dazed and a little cranky. I resent having to get up in the dark, get dressed in the dark, and return home in the dark.

I've watched moodily as winter has crept stealthily around my favourite blogs. There has been talk of wooly leggings, studded tyres, and, horror of horrors, cycling in the snow. *Shudder*. It all leaves me feeling very inadequate and vaguely ashamed of myself for having given up on my twice-weekly commute to the other end of town.  I'd foolishly been cycling in the dark with no front light until recently, but realized I had to change my ways when an old man shouted "NO LIGHTS" at me in the dark.

I blame it all on the dynamo fiasco. It's a lengthy and soporific story of birthday presents, ebaying, royal mail incompetence, and inadequate wires. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say I had to bribe the technician at work with cake to get him to extend the damned thing. Exquisite craftsmanship, Mr. K.

And tomorrow, it goes on.
Winter, I am going to kick your ass.

Stolen

In an email this morning:


"Recently one bike was stolen and another nearly stolen from the racks outside the (building). Both incidents took place in the late afternoon. Please report any dodgy behaviour around the racks and if you lock up your bike here we would encourage you to do it very well! D-locks are best and lock up the wheels too if you can. (The bike that was stolen was locked up with a fairly decent cable lock.) Lots of bikes have been stolen around the University too recently, so watch out."


I hope my previous post had nothing to do with this. BACK, THIEVES! BACK, I TELL YOU! Our bikes are worth nothing, but are much loved. 


Incidentally I hope the person who "nearly stole" the second bike was chased off by a mob of angry students, wielding stabby paintbrushes or perhaps sharp rolls of paper. And that, erm, taking innocent pictures of other people's bikes does not constitute "dodgy behaviour".

Full parking

It pays to get to work early, before the bike stands fill up.

It's probably the nicest stable of bikes I've seen in Edinburgh, and it's great to see all the young ones keeping green, fit, and stylish. I'd like to say this is actively encouraged, but this is a place where the cafeteria counts fried chips as a vegetable.

Bike nerd

My brakes are old.
I can tell from the look of irritation mixed with despair on the mechanics' face. They've been adjusted twice now but keep on giving me trouble, like obnoxious teenagers looking for the next prank to play. "What can we do next that will put M. in mortal danger, as she hurtles down a hill towards a busy roundabout? Ooooh, I know!"

This time the front brake has been misbehaving, refusing to spring back to its original position when released, creating a drag on the wheel that makes me feel particularly unfit as I struggle up gentle inclines. After poking fecklessly at the mechanism for a while, and even more aimlessly at the internets, I came across this refreshingly clear guide to adjusting my sidepull calliper brake (for such is apparently the name of the mechanism).

It seems like the back nut was just too tight, stopping the brake from springing open on one side. I've loosened it slightly, and it seems to be working fine now.

I feel like Sherpa Tenzing, having just conquered an impregnable summit, armed only with cranky frustration and a multi-spanner tool thingamajiggy.

What did you do Sunday night? I took photos of my spanner. Sigh.

Hamburger Bell

Love this hamburger bell, spotted at The Bike Chain in Edinburgh while getting a puncture fixed. It's a bell! Shaped like a hamburger! A bargain at £7. Nice little bike shop with friendly, knowledgeable staff who didn't quite notice we weren't their typical, active-lifestyle customers. "We've just received new Goretex", the young man pointed out. "It's very good". I'm also fairly certain they offered to measure my pelvis.

Do drop in and have a look, they have a good range of accessories and apparel and a selection of Brooks saddles to stroke lovingly.

Dawes Duchess review

I had a hard time finding my bicycle. I had my mind set on a classic step-through upright bicycle, capable of handling Edinburgh's many hills, and light enough to carry the two floors up to my flat.
But at 5'2'', and a small-ish budget (around £300), my choices were limited, especially in mountain-bike centric Edinburgh. I came across the Dawes Duchess in a vague state of despair, and though it wasn't love at first sight, I thought I'd give it a whirl.

See? It doesn't look too bad, does it?

My glamorous moutain-biking assistant holding the culprit. "You look so French", he said.

It has a steel frame, 7 gears, a chainguard, mudguards, and a basket.

Sadly, the test ride was disappointing. There was an air of cheapness about it, of over-complication. The colour was more purple than plum, the stitching on the grips was naff, and the rattan "effect" basket was, well, plastic.

Still, I could have overlooked all this if it hadn't been for the rickety feeling when I took it for a test ride. It was light enough, comfortable, and easy on inclines. Perhaps it had something to do with the bike having been assembled that morning, but I could feel every bump in the perfectly smooth road, and just felt like the bicycle would fall to bits beneath me.

Dejected, I walked up the road to find my lovely Falcon... but that's for another post.