First bike. I received my first bike for my 5th Birthday. My birthday was in October so I didn't start school until I was aged 5. It was always anticipated that I would have to ride a bike to school. The nearest school – Meadow Creek - was 3 miles away. My parents milked cows so they did not want to have to drive me to school when it was milking time. I think I was keen to start school. The bike was sized 20 and was blue coloured. A Malvern Star. It was the smallest you could get. The sizes went up by 2’s. 20 – 22 – 24 – 26 – and if you were grown up you had a size 28. I presume this was the diameter of the front wheel in inches. I once saw a size 28 and it seemed gigantic. The bike was presented to me outside the chaff shed. My parents had hid it in there waiting for my actual birthday. I asked if I could get on it straight away. You don't know how to ride my mother said. I had seen older children ride their bikes and it didn't look too hard. You just hopped on and pushed the pedals. My father held the bike upright. I climbed on and put my feet on the pedals. I started pushing and off I went. My father had given me a bit of a push so I already had momentum. The pedals went round and I was upright on the bike. I pushed hard and speeded up. Suddenly I had put distance between me and my Mother and Father. I was going in a straight line directly for the telephone line. Turn around. Turn around they shouted. I didnt turn around. I just stopped and leant against the telephone pole. I thought – I should put my foot on the ground. So I did. I knew I knew how to ride a bike. I didnt have to be taught. I had seen others ride and I had taken it in. I rode the bike all that day. When I started school I rode my bike from the very first day. Conclusion This incident was replicated with my third child. He took to riding his bike with gusto. He learnt to ride in the morning and in the afternoon I saw him riding his bike on Station Street Ferntree Gully behind a car – and he was being followed by another car. I was worried but I knew I had done the same thing more or less. How could I be worried or chastise him. History was being repeated. A Fine Day in London. When I lived in London I cannot remember being unhappy. I went to sleep each night wondering what was going to happen tomorrow. Whatever happened I knew it would be good. I knew that something interesting would happen at work. I knew in the morning I would walk to Earls Court Station and take the District Line to Temple Station. I would stand in the underground and feel the wind on my face which announced a train was coming although you couldn't hear it. I would wonder how many other people on the station would be as excited as I was. Why didn't they smile with pleasure. Just being here is exciting I would think. I would read The Times on the way to work. I always felt reading The Times was extremely pleasurable. It was civilising. I felt The Times spoke directly to me. I more or less read it from cover to cover. This took all day. Morning and afternoon tea breaks. Lunchtime too. Coming home from work also. I shared a room with a car mechanic. We got on well. He worked somewhere in North London. The first thing he did when he came home each night was to try and wash off the oil stains on his hands and arms. He had no hot water where he worked. He was restoring an old car where he worked in his spare time. His boss let him do this after his normal work. Finally he bought the car home to show us. It was indeed old. I dont know what type it was. It appeared to be put together from parts of other cars and it probably was. He had hand painted it green but the previous colours showed thorough underneath. Each part of the car seemed to have a different colour. He didn't bring it home very often because it was not registered and he was afraid of being caught. But one night he said that he had to go past Kingsway the next morning so he could drive me to work. I said OK. The next day dawned and there was a slight hitch in that his lights were not working and we had to wait until it became fully light. This was in the middle of winter. But the day turned out to be one of those miracle days. One of those days you never anticipate in wintry England. It was a wonderful sunny day. Bright blue sky. Almost blinding sunlight. Steam rising from the leaves. Sunlight coming through the cracks in sunbeams. Sunshine reflecting off buildings. People walking with optimism. I did not mind being late for work. My friend did not want to drive down main roads as he did not want to get caught with an unregistered car. So he drove all the way to Kingsway down side streets. I don't think we saw a Main Road. My friend seemed to know exactly where to go. I had no idea where we were. I didn't mind. I was struck by how wonderful the day was. Driving along narrow streets seemingly full of people going to work. It was obviously cold but it was wonderfully sunny. The ride did not last long. We seemed to go from one side street to another side street and suddenly we were in Kingsway. All the way in wonderful sunshine. I was let out of the car. I walked a short way along Kingsway and then along The Strand and then I was at work. I knew these were wondrous times. When I left London he drove me to Heathrow and he still hadn't had his car registered. To get to Heathrow we had to drive along main roads but we didn't see any Police. Conclusion I don't think its possible to replicate these times. I feel the British have changed permanently. To the point where I don't recognize any of the Tory Party leadership candidates as even being English. Let alone Tories. They don't even remotely seem to be Tories. I myself felt British to my bootstraps. Now I think Theresa May will be judged to be the last British Prime Minister. Of course Mr Murdoch owns The Times and the paper reflects his prejudices. Its all very dispiriting to someone like me.
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