Since my
search for a bike began there has been one constant: coffee. These are not
related events per se, for coffee has
always been a companion of mine. I should add that it’s only in recent years
that I’ve embraced the drinking of coffee outside of the home with such
enthusiasm, but it’s been going on long enough. Mind you, I don’t recall coffee
shops or cafés featuring on those early rides with the Raleigh Record Ace,
although I suppose they must have done. They were certainly present on my
reconnaissance missions to East and North London, searching for potential
bikes, and were very much to the fore once I started riding the Carlos.
They have a practical purpose though,
these pauses for caffeine. They provide a target, or a half way marker – or a
two thirds marker. The idea on my longer rides is to select a destination at
which to stop for coffee, to work out a way to get there and then find my way
back via a different route – never go back on yourself.
It’s hard, actually, because there
are only so many directions in which I can feasibly travel. I am confined by
geographical limitations, namely the River Thames to the south (decreeing I
first head west or east if I want to explore Surrey), and Heathrow Airport and
the M25 out west (a bleak and industrious restraint). Moving south-westwards
through the corridor between M3 and the River Thames works well for me, and I
will take it as far as Walton Bridge. By the time I’ve made it to Kingston – my
allotted coffee point – I’ve covered almost 20 miles, including a 1.5 mile
steady push up Hurst Road. This route
also benefits from a paucity of traffic lights and junctions.
If I want to explore south-eastwards then I usually ride through and
circumnavigate Richmond Park and Wimbledon Common respectively. I can move south fairly easily from there. Carlos-Weltschmerz’s
next trip shall see it stab deep into the countryside, another jaunt in a
southerly direction intended to reach out as far as Box Hill.
The farthest north I travel is
Ealing Broadway, and that’s invariably followed by a swing to the right which
takes me along the Uxbridge Road towards Shepherd’s Bush and often on to High
Street Kensington. It may also happen in reverse.
For the most part I like to head
eastward, which offers up the most interesting terrain – London basically, and
its labyrinth of streets. The prevailing path of late has been straight into
Waterloo, through Richmond, Putney, Wandsworth, Battersea Park and Vauxhall. It’s
a fast trip with surprisingly few obstacles – one can attain quite some speed.
I like this about cycling, this peripatetic feature, and I can quite
understand why some cyclists get into touring or randonneuring.
I’m not a
caffeine snob and don’t at all mind drinking in places like Starbucks, Caffè
Nero or
Costa, so long as I like the territory and can look at nice things – or if the café in question faces in a direction that allows
me to feel the warmth of the sun. I’ve alluded to a few of these already, like
that Starbucks in Wimbledon village, a capacious establishment reminiscent of
an All Bar One or a Pitcher and Piano – pubs I never
willingly enter. Its walls are made of glass and it strikes me that most coffee
shops like their walls to be made of glass, as much as is architecturally
possible. I think this is because people like to feel connected with the
outside world when they take a break for coffee (or tea, maybe cake). It’s as
if they don’t want to separate their leisure time from the rest of the day,
even if the rest of the day is all about their work. Maybe if these places were
too dark, or too ostensibly sheared off from their environment, the clientele
would find that too much and slink off into a leisurely reverie from which they
would find it hard to recover. They want distraction but not so much that they
get too comfortable, unable to settle back into a work related state of mind
(that’s what pubs are for).
Starbucks in Wimbledon, with its
wooden interior, glazed frontage and not too difficult jazz, overlooks an
unobjectionable high-street, and it makes for a satisfactory place to drink; the
filter coffee just about passes muster. There’s a Starbucks in Chiswick that
I’m rather partial to as well. Its shape and size restrict the copious use of
glass, but I like to sit outside of that one anyhow: it’s south-facing.
Nero is
where my mother likes to drink her coffee – she appreciates the double dose of
caffeine. At Caffè Nero (with
its pictures on the walls of people drinking coffee, to look at while you’re
drinking coffee) I order a white Americano, but they never provide
enough milk and I normally have to ask that they re-fill my thimble of a jug. They
hit you hard for drinking inside too, which is why I never bother with their
lattes – too expensive. I should probably avoid Nero on principle, but they’ve
got some choice locations. The aforementioned branch on High Street Kensington
next to Boots Chemist is my favourite, with its triangular outside seating area
and railings, to which I can secure the bike.
There’s a decent Caffè
Nero in
Fulham Broadway, opposite one of the best equipped Evans Cycles in the whole of
London. Tables and chairs ring the perimeter and the pedestrianized zone that
separates it from Evans Cycles makes for a calming experience. However, the
adjacent bike racks are normally overpopulated and finding alternative
solutions can be a bit of a fag.
At Costa I
am in the habit of drinking lattes. Many cafés top their lattes with too much
froth but Costa don’t tend to, and I approve of the fact that they won’t charge
you extra for drinking-in. There are only a few Costas I frequent, though. The
first is in Ealing around the back of the mall. Its generous outside seating
area is frequented by gentlemen of Middle Eastern and/or North African descent,
talking and smoking. Inside is the stalking ground of the mother and child, and
it is gloomy and unappealing.
My favourite Costa is the one just
across from Embankment Tube Station, although there are no obvious anchors for
your bike. Interior wise, it’s quite small, but I like the intimacy.
Wimbledon Village also has a passable Costa.
Really,
though, it is the independent cafés that I like to offer my patronage, and
trips to Kingston-upon-Thames always involve establishments such as these. After
a particularly brutal cycle out to Walton-on-Thames, I recently discovered The
Terrace on Apple Market. The Americano was of a very high standard and charged
for at a reasonable rate, and I was given hot milk without even having to ask.
Then there’s the Royal Festival Hall
on the South Bank; awful coffee but a brilliant view.
Kew Greenhouse Café in Kew is
another good one, although as my rides have become longer it’s been harder to
accommodate.
And so on…
Coffee
has strong associations with cycling – probably something to do with its robust
Italian heritage. I ride an Italian bike. I’ve been to Italy twice. I would
like to go there again.
British riders used to be encouraged
to ride British bikes, and not without justification. This wasn’t loose
jingoism: we used to make very high quality bikes and Reynolds steel was – and maybe
still is – considered (the Italian) Columbus’s equal. You may recall that the
Raleigh Record Ace was made from Reynolds steel, and it is a bike that I think
of with fondness. Those early rides were something of a revelation and set me
on the path that has led me to where I am now.
There have been other British bikes
I’ve looked at along the way. Some I’ve mentioned, like the (allegedly) stolen
Holdsworth, and others I’ve not (out of compassion for my readership). I’ve
never been biased one way or another and I’m only riding Italian because the
Romani is the bike I’ve come across that most suits my needs.
But I’ve been to Italy twice and
would like to go there again. I think it would be a nice idea to ride the
Romani in the L’Eroica, assuming it meets the criteria: no cleats; shifters on
the down-tube; manufactured no later than 1987 (although the Romani might well be).
It would be like some sort of homecoming.
I’ve
heard that certain travel companies have started putting together package tours
centred around the annual L’Eroica race in Tuscany. You don’t even have to
worry about the bike because they will hire you one on the day. What do you
think of that? What do you think of
people – people who might not ordinarily own a bike that qualifies – throwing
some tour operator a wedge of money and flying to Italy to impose themselves on
an event geared towards those with a genuine affection for vintage bicycles?
