Having failed to come up trumps with a decent birthday present for Rosy, I've taken a day off work ... to take her out on the bike 
.
We're off to the Old Vic Tunnels where there's an art exhibition that she wants to see, but first I have to swap wheel sets.
I haven't got one of those goochy touratwat front fork prop things so whilst the back wheel only takes a couple of minutes, I have to fanny around with the front and stick something heavy on the back seat.
Thinking fondly of Tim and Angie, and the recent discussion on sexism, Rosy gets back to the kitchen (an area that Duchess could probably spend more time in I suspect ..) to knock up some breakfast before we go.
We say goodbye to Ruben (whose really pissed off that it doesn't involve him..) and hit the road.
After an hour or so on the motorway we drift into town and head for the Old Kent Road.
London to me is an old friend. Where ever you go, there is a community, it isn't always the cold unfriendly place that people often imagine big cities to be.
We push on towards Waterloo, and Rosy sits behind snapping away ...
We park up and walk the last few hundred yards to find ... bollox ...
a queue that must be two hundred yards long
Clearly half the TV viewers that saw Rolph and his clan on the Beeb have pitched up too, so we cancel that plan and hatch another.
I usually only wear my twat suit if i'm off road on the GS, but my leathers are at the tailors and I do feel errrrrrr, a bit of a twat in them
I book a table at a great Bistro pub in Fulham http://www.harwoodarms.com/
that does fantastic food. If you're ever that part of the world - go there with my blessing
.
But first, I'll take her on a quick sight seeing tour
And so the big GSA weaves it's way around the embankment, Westminster, Whitehall ....
We sit at some red lights for a good minute in Parliament Street and Rosy flirts with a cab driver.
I'm more impressed with the little Chinese guy who track-stands his bike the whole time without actually moving an inch
We pass the horse guards at Whitehall and push on up to Trafalgar Square.
Unfortunately The Mall is still shut from the weekend jubilee stuff, so we thread our way round the back roads to Birdcage walk.
The stage that surrounded the memorial to Queen Victoria has all gone, and we push on west past Harrods.
Lunch at the Harwood is always excellent. A sort of English Tappas is you can have such a thing.
The Scotch eggs are to die for
Followed by a platter of home made terrines, soda bread, cured Salmon in treacle, roast baby potatoes ...... Ooooooooooo and the venison rissoles ..... Yer gotta go there ...
Ohhhhhhhh fuck !!!! I'm stuffed, drunk on food, out of shape, in need of an afternoon nap, and getting old. Sigh .... I used to be fit
We head off home, and rather than go south, we head east along the river towards the city.
I pass the Aldwych where in the eighties I'd drink coffee and wait for my first dispatch job of the day on me Kwak GT550.
St Paul's bathes in sunlight and the mix of steel, glass and tradition makes for one of the greatest cities to visit.
We hit the A13 and head towards Trixie de la Wapping's part of the world, Blackwall tunnel and A2 back to Kent.
Once back in Gods country any trip home isn't complete with out a little foray off road
So with a tweak of the old ESA, we hit the by-ways and take it easy on our pseudo adventure tyres.
But with all the wind we've just had, we barely get a mile when it all grinds to a halt.
I dispatch Rosy to investigate but It's a lost cause,
and spend the next ten minutes trying to turn around
(and get feckin' stuck!!!!)
So it's back the way we came, and we'll get back on further down the road.
A b road here, some kids on horses there .. and we pick up the Pilgrims way again behind Charing Gliding club.
1100 ? 1150? 1200? Putting all the friendly banter aside, they're all bloody good bikes. One up, two up, b road, motorway and city centre to by-way, I do love my GS
I get home and Ruben is delighted to see us both.
He is in fact overwhelmed with gratitude that I haven't chopped his balls off and proudly presents them to me at every opportunity thanks buddy.
.We're off to the Old Vic Tunnels where there's an art exhibition that she wants to see, but first I have to swap wheel sets.
I haven't got one of those goochy touratwat front fork prop things so whilst the back wheel only takes a couple of minutes, I have to fanny around with the front and stick something heavy on the back seat.
Thinking fondly of Tim and Angie, and the recent discussion on sexism, Rosy gets back to the kitchen (an area that Duchess could probably spend more time in I suspect ..) to knock up some breakfast before we go.
We say goodbye to Ruben (whose really pissed off that it doesn't involve him..) and hit the road.
After an hour or so on the motorway we drift into town and head for the Old Kent Road.
London to me is an old friend. Where ever you go, there is a community, it isn't always the cold unfriendly place that people often imagine big cities to be.
We push on towards Waterloo, and Rosy sits behind snapping away ...
We park up and walk the last few hundred yards to find ... bollox ...
a queue that must be two hundred yards long Clearly half the TV viewers that saw Rolph and his clan on the Beeb have pitched up too, so we cancel that plan and hatch another.
I usually only wear my twat suit if i'm off road on the GS, but my leathers are at the tailors and I do feel errrrrrr, a bit of a twat in them
I book a table at a great Bistro pub in Fulham http://www.harwoodarms.com/
that does fantastic food. If you're ever that part of the world - go there with my blessing
.But first, I'll take her on a quick sight seeing tour
And so the big GSA weaves it's way around the embankment, Westminster, Whitehall ....
We sit at some red lights for a good minute in Parliament Street and Rosy flirts with a cab driver.
I'm more impressed with the little Chinese guy who track-stands his bike the whole time without actually moving an inch
We pass the horse guards at Whitehall and push on up to Trafalgar Square.
Unfortunately The Mall is still shut from the weekend jubilee stuff, so we thread our way round the back roads to Birdcage walk.
The stage that surrounded the memorial to Queen Victoria has all gone, and we push on west past Harrods.
Lunch at the Harwood is always excellent. A sort of English Tappas is you can have such a thing.
The Scotch eggs are to die for
Followed by a platter of home made terrines, soda bread, cured Salmon in treacle, roast baby potatoes ...... Ooooooooooo and the venison rissoles ..... Yer gotta go there ...
Ohhhhhhhh fuck !!!! I'm stuffed, drunk on food, out of shape, in need of an afternoon nap, and getting old. Sigh .... I used to be fit
We head off home, and rather than go south, we head east along the river towards the city.
I pass the Aldwych where in the eighties I'd drink coffee and wait for my first dispatch job of the day on me Kwak GT550.
St Paul's bathes in sunlight and the mix of steel, glass and tradition makes for one of the greatest cities to visit.
We hit the A13 and head towards Trixie de la Wapping's part of the world, Blackwall tunnel and A2 back to Kent.
Once back in Gods country any trip home isn't complete with out a little foray off road
So with a tweak of the old ESA, we hit the by-ways and take it easy on our pseudo adventure tyres.
But with all the wind we've just had, we barely get a mile when it all grinds to a halt.
I dispatch Rosy to investigate but It's a lost cause,
and spend the next ten minutes trying to turn around
(and get feckin' stuck!!!!)
So it's back the way we came, and we'll get back on further down the road.
A b road here, some kids on horses there .. and we pick up the Pilgrims way again behind Charing Gliding club.
1100 ? 1150? 1200? Putting all the friendly banter aside, they're all bloody good bikes. One up, two up, b road, motorway and city centre to by-way, I do love my GS
I get home and Ruben is delighted to see us both.
He is in fact overwhelmed with gratitude that I haven't chopped his balls off and proudly presents them to me at every opportunity
thanks buddy.
