After all my negativity about the new bus route which connects Gosport to Fareham, the moans about the money spent and the lack of perceivable effect it has had on my car journeys, I’m about to take it all back.
I finally experienced the bus route for myself, not on a bus but a bicycle, and can quite proudly say that it is epic.
It’s a fantastic stretch of Tarmac where you can whizz from one end to the other without once feeling threatened by cars, lorries or errant pedestrians.
On the downside, there aren’t many distractions en route. A few locks on curiously hidden doors in the wooden fences, a bus stop or two with one person sat in each like a lone cowboy waiting for a dust ball to roll by, and a few MAMILs.
My friend reliably informed me that this anachronism stands for Middle-Aged Men In Lycra.
You know, they’re the keen cyclists who overtake in a blur with their backsides swallowing their awfully thin seats.
By the way, that’s the best bit about being a woman cyclist, having a wide seat to support one’s buttocks. Mens’ seats look positively painful.
I recommend the bus route ride to anyone and everyone who owns a bike. It’s just a shame about what happens at either end.
I know that I can be spatially challenged at times, but the twisting, turning cycle paths that connect to the great Romanesque bus lane are a total nightmare.
I guess that if you had the time to explore them all at length, you could work out which ones will get you where. Or if you live locally and have grown up instinctively knowing that a connects to b via s and z, you’re okay.
But when you take the family out, with them cycling behind like ducklings on wheels, it can be quite chaotic when the wending path you are sure heads in the right direction turns out to be a dead end and you all have to perform a three-point turn in a miniscule back alley.
Cyclists need to be able to rely on an inner GPS that guides them, against the odds, back to the path which they started from. How good would it be to connect all the cycle paths up in a coherent manner which made sense to all of us?
I was really sad to read that The Oxford Dictionary is unlikely to be printed again.
It’s so big and anyway it’s much easier for people to use the internet these days, reducing the need to buy the paper version in the first place.
Now I admit I’m super-guilty of using the shortcut method of looking online for spellings and synonyms while my dictionary and thesaurus gather dust on my desk next to me.
But while it is practical to use the PC, I fear the sheer joy of word surfing will be lost to subsequent generations.
Words like herptile and kore might drop from our language.
Worse still, my spell checker is having a meltdown over their inclusion.
Is anyone else as bored as I am of hearing about all the developmental milestones of our future king on his three-week tour of Australia and New Zealand with his parents?
I don’t care which of them held him up to get a better view, or to have a better picture taken.
It makes no odds to me, or to my life, that he threw a toy on the ground, or that he snatched one from another child.
What has happened to news values that this sort of stuff makes national headlines, while 300-plus children are presumed drowned on a ferry in South Korea and we’ve forgotten about them already?
It’s high time the national media in this country started to think about its priorities and stopped dribbling like a baby over Prince George.