Bicycles and Bands

Hello again.

Why, you ask, if the joy of novelty hasn't worn off yet didn't I blog yesterday?

Well, it's funny you ask. Yesterday was my first full day in Oxford and as such, it was as mad as a bicycle. (This is a phrase as used by, believe it or not, the assistant chaplain to Mansfield College (from the Church of Ireland, if you're interested) to describe various figures from theological history.
(Dear readers, I must admit, I'm more like Thomas Paine than St Augustine, and probably more like Richard Dawkins than either.

Quote of the day:
"I believe that an orderly universe, one indifferent to human preoccupations, in which everything has an explanation even if we still have a long way to go before we find it, is a more beautiful, more wonderful place than a universe tricked out with capricious ad hoc magic."
-- Richard Dawkins, Unweaving the Rainbow

Now, how did I get onto theology, of all topics? Oh yes, mad as a bicycle. I choose that phrase advisedly, because the main reason yesterday was busy was acquiring a new bike. My old one was stolen from the garden bit outside my Oxford house at the end of last term, which was probably my fault. I had a combination lock, which in hindsight is probably the ultimate expression of faith in human nature. So along went I, to Cycle King, to get myself a new steed. Anyone who's visited Oxford will know it's the British answer to Amsterdam or Shanghai. In terms of bicycles, I mean, not marijuana or opium. There are three bike shops on the Cowley Road, where I live. Two are serious bike shops that disdainfully sell to students on the basis that turning away customers is bad business practice. Cycle King, the largest of the three, is joyfully plebian, though. They have a long row of "Student specials" outside- that is, rusty second hand affairs with warranties of between one and three months, for £60 or less. However, and here's the thing, they're having an amazing January sale. Case in point- there's a blue bike called the Dakota that is £59 outside on the Student Specials bench or, less than two metres away, just inside the door, £60 brand new.

The first bike I looked at was, a friendly man told me, a 'cruiser'. Firstly, it had a broad, curving frame that make it look very different from most bikes. Secondly, it had tires about as wide as the breadth of my hand. Thirdly, and most puzzlingly, it didn't seem to have any gears. But these, my new friend told me, were inside the hub, making them cool. And also superior in some technical sense, but I forget why. I was besotten. But that's not the bike I went home with, because the upright position and arm-chair quality saddle were, I discovered, meant for people who routinely rode long distances. In fact, the fat tires are so you can fall asleep at the wheel with impunity, at the cost of quite a bit of forward motion. But, perhaps I'd like to see this?

Now, I'm used to salesmen striving to make me think I'm much wealthier than I am. But this guy, I think, really thought the bike he was recommending was the right one for me and was afraid that I'd delay buying it until February, when I'd pay £180 for it. I took it for a test ride, and toyed with the idea of cycling like mad for Dover, stopping only to cancel my debit card I'd left with Cycle King as security. Within minutes I was back in the shop, as opposed to the safety of Liechtensteintein, and the self-same card was being bled for £88, plus £7.99 for a lock made of steel and scorpions.

So now I have my new toy. It's tall, and has slim wheels and thin tubes in the frame. It's a colour that I believe is called British Racing Green, appropriately enough. The overall effect is like a gaunt, gangly academic, too innocent to survive in the outside world. It's also a road bike in the true sense, meaning that I can keep peddling until my lungs hurt, and it just keeps going faster. This is opposed to my old limpalong mountain bike. However, with the wide and spiky rubber of my old tires I could absentmindedly drift obliquely across pavement edges without fear- now I do need at least need to approach them head-on to make the jump.

That wasn't the only bargain I got yesterday, though. I also bought, from Oxfam a CD by a band called Half Film. I can't seem to find any decent links to them, though this at least has a description of a band that I now really like. This CD cost me £1.99 (about $3 US, I suppose, for Americans who want to empathise). In my search for a link, I found that Melody Maker apparently described them as "the aural equivalent of a European arthouse movie". I'm not sure what that's meant to mean. Apart from Das Boot, I've only seen one film in a language other than English, that I can remember. Anyway, I like them. There is a song by Radiohead that's just been on Zeilsteen that reminds me of them, but they're a good deal less electronic and depressive. (I don't mean it, Radiohead fans.) It sounds like they've only really got a drum and a bass guitar and that's about it.

This last day or two I've been relishing Oxford life, which basically means cooking for myself. We live about sixty seconds walk from Tesco Metro, which basically means my student loan (note that: Loan, not grant) is being slowly but surely converted into Tesco receipts. It's all very domesticated. Housemate Jo will be arriving in the big O today, and being at heart somewhat housepround, I predict an evening of cleaning and cooking shepherd's pie.

So I'm going to push off and get myself some lunch. Until next time...

Song in my head: "Stepless" by Half Film