Jez Higgins

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The Forest Road Reader, No 118

Mum on the phone. Daniel's on the train home and she hopes he'll be ok. I'd almost forgotten he was coming.

Birmingham plans to triple number of city cyclists by using canal towpath network: Birmingham's cycle revolution may soon hit top gear. How so? Please tell us! Nearly 19 miles of towpaths are set to be upgraded offering a smoother, all-weather surface, improved lighting, new access points and better signage. Well, blimey, that'll certainly help because the existing gravelly-muddy-grassy path can get a bit slithery in the wet. Mind you, so can some of the brick paved towpaths too, especially when they're laid on a bit of a camber. Still, it'll probably help for the bits of the city around the canals, for people travelling to places served by the canals. Probably also increase the number people walking too, which is also good. But "cycle revolution [hitting] top gear"? Pull the other one.

Mum on the phone again. Has he made the change at Ely ok? I have no idea, but I assume that if not we'd have heard something. Ely's not a large station, and he's been well briefed. I promise to let her know when he's arrived.

Found out my builder supported Martha Reeves before Christmas. With his band, not with an RSJ or underpinning or anything like that.

Natalie goes to pick him up from new New Street at the appointed time. I forget to text my Mum for two hours.

The canal runs near to this part of Edgbaston. Maybe a bit more cycling along it will mean who did this can put away their marker pen and calm down a bit.

When I was not that much older than Daniel is now, some school friends and I arranged a trip to London. I stayed the night with one of them, then we all set off to get the coach in the morning. We missed it, but decided to jump on the train instead. We spent the day roving around London, eventually arriving back in Norwich at about ten in the evening. I lived 15 miles away, and my friends another 15 beyond that. I rang my Mum from a call box to come and get us, and someone else rang their Dad to pick them up from my house. From the time we were dropped off by whoever's Mum it was for the coach we didn't get, to the time I rang my Mum nobody had a clue where the hell any of us were.


Tagged cycling, and birmingham


Jez Higgins

Freelance software grandad
software created
extended or repaired

Follow me on Mastodon
Applications, Libraries, Code
Talks & Presentations

Hire me
Contact

Older posts are available in the archive or through tags.

Feed