Rosetti and Elizabeth Siddal

What a couple of weekends it has been! I ended up making a couple of unexpected nocturnal journeys on my Orange Titanium over the Bank Holiday weekend and another Friday night just gone. This saw me make a 50 mile round trip, from London to the countryside and back. Not wanting to do this on my own, I enlisted the help of old friend Tom, who took one of his Brompton Titanium bikes. Perhaps a blog post for another time. On the way back I passed the house where the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood resided and later Highgate Cemetery. I could not resist in writing this blog post as a result. 

New saddle and grips for my Orange Titanium

It has been a busy week and an even busier weekend. I have been using my Orange Titanium a little more and one of the reasons for this is that it is now a much more comfy riding experience. I will let me explain. 

My favourite of the Magnificent Seven, Kensal Green cemetery

I was passing through my favourite of the Magnificent Seven cemeteries in London, Kensal Green on my G-Line the other day. Whilst doing so I could not help but pass the grave of rake, rapscallion and rogue that was George Smythe. 

London to Shoreham-on -Sea overnight on a Brompton

Friday night into Saturday morning saw me taking part in a Friday night ride to the coast: Shoreham-on-Sea. Armed with my trusty Orange Titanium, I set off for the start not far from the London Eye, feeling reasonably optimistic and only mildly aware that I was about to spend the best part of the night pedalling in the direction of a seaside town while most sensible people were either asleep or making poor choices of their own.

The Curious Case of the Lamppost-Bound Brompton

There’s a particular species of urban cyclist that fascinates and terrifies me in equal measure: the Brompton owner who (steel yourself for this)…leaves their bike locked to a lamppost. Yes, you read that right. The same folding wonder designed to slip discreetly under your desk, disappear into the boot of a cab, or quietly insinuate itself into the luggage compartment of a train is instead chained outside like it is an abandoned pony.