Bike to work for Climate Week Day 4: still sore

As we headed out into misty Reading this morning the novelty was definitely starting to wear off for me. My behind is still tender from the unaccustomed proximity to the saddle, and there is undoubtedly less energy in my legs. Millie on the other hand was still keen, and posed enthusiastically for a photo before we set out.

Millie has started to realise that the reason we are moving our legs is actually in order to move the bike forward. Her moment of enlightenment came yesterday evening when I stopped pedalling on the flat and made her the sole power source: "It's really stiff Mummy!" she exclaimed in surprise. Yes Millie, yes it is.

She made a lot more effort this morning, with the result that we made it all the way up the hill before I had to stop for a rest. She was still talking pretty much non-stop, however, and anyone who knows a five-year old knows that if you don't answer their question the first time, they will keep on asking until you do, regardless of whether your lungs are hanging out of your mouth at the time.

Following drop off at school I whizzed down the hill to work appreciating just how much lighter the bike is without its passenger. Made it to work on time after a quick change in the loo.

The sun is coming out now, and it should be nice and warm by the time I ride home this evening for the last commuter journey of the week, so I'm quite looking forward to it.

Bike to Work for Climate Week Journey #3: Saddle sore

Today was the first proper experiment with the morning school run. Sadly my posterior is starting to feel the effects of the unaccustomed cycling so it was rather gingerly that I settled into the saddle.

We set off down the bus lane on Wokingham Road quite merrily, with Millie chatting nineteen to the dozen and greeting the people at the bus stop as she passed. Unfortunately (for me) she was still chatting at top speed as we tackled the Hamilton Road hill. "Come on darling, pedal" I gasped, or words to that effect, "I AM pedalling mummy, you don't need to keep telling me," came back the suspiciously unbreathless reply. Hmmm. Eventually we had to stop just before the top and walk the last section.

For the rest of the way we kept largely to the pavements, not willing to risk the Reading traffic, and we made it to school before the teachers opened the door to let the girls in. In time terms we lost practically nothing compared with using the car, as traffic is fairly heavy and there are a lot of queues at bottlenecks and traffic lights which didn't affect us on the bike. We didn't set off from home any earlier, and saved time by not having to park five minutes' walk from the school gate.

We also got to show off a bit: Millie was thrilled to show her friends how she had travelled to school, and some of the other parents were interested in the school-run experiment, plus complimentary about the exercise aspect.

I freewheeled down the hill to work, really feeling the difference of not having Millie on the back, and made it to the office on time. I had to take five minutes to get changed and freshened up, however, so was five minutes late to my actual desk.

It's a beautiful morning here in Reading and really great for cycling, but where it's slightly warmer I did break into a gentle sweat, and unfortunately there are no showers at Kyocera Mita, so I've had to do my best with the bathroom and deodorant. I'm certain my colleagues will mention it if there's any offensive odour, however, because that's the kind of colleagues they are!

Bike to work for Climate week: Journey #2

The cat has made it out of the tree, although it now appears to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and consequent digestive issues. Nice.

Millie was absolutely delighted to be picked up by bike yesterday evening, and loudly informed all of her friends that she was travelling home on three wheels. She donned her hi-vis vest and helmet and we set off on the roads of Reading. It was... somewhat nerve-wracking. She did pedal, telling me "Mummy, you don't have to ask me if I'm pedalling because I always am!" But she does have a tendency to twist round on the bike if she passes something interesting, and that sends the bike off balance, which is alarming, to say the least. She also terrified a few people by shouting "HELLO!" to them as she was passing.

Cars gave us a very wide berth, indicating that we looked as unstable as we felt. Having regularly been the car driver in these situations, I felt a little guilty at the terror we were putting them through as they crept past us.

I altered our normal route home slightly, to take in some of the quieter roads, and overall, the journey was a success, in that we made it home without any major accidents.

This morning has been less successful. I have an appointment at our London showroom this afternoon, and given the timing of it there is no way I can get back to Reading, get a taxi to the office, get changed, bike up to collect Millie, get home and then leap in the car to fetch Josie before the nursery closes, so to Millie's huge disappointment the bike has had to stay at home today. We'll resume the experiment tomorrow.

Bike to work for Climate Week: Journey #1

Ironically, the first journey I made this morning was by car to the station in order to attend the official launch of Climate week at Lancaster House. I was concerned about leaving the bike and tagalong parked up outside Reading station, and also about having to change clothes on the train, so the bike stayed at home this morning. I was tempted to give in, and start the experiment tomorrow, but enthused by the climate week launch, I headed back to Reading and drove home to fetch my trusty steed.

Problems that I encountered:

1.) The bike was in the shed, behind an entire kitchen extensions-worth of rubbish.

2.) With the tagalong attached, the beast is about 12 feet long, and with three pivot points, very hard to back out of an enclosed space.

3.) My husband had hidden the cycle helmets in the shed, and was unavailable to tell me where he’d put them.

4.) The cat was stuck up a tree and punctuated my attempts to get the bike out of the shed with pitiful mewling.
Still, after about 15 minutes of concerted effort and unladylike language, I managed to get on the road, with my backpack containing office clothes and Millie’s hi-vis vest, on my back. Once I got going though, things went OK, until I encountered the first hill.

Warwick Castle has 503 stairs along its crenellations, and signs helpfully warn you that they operate a one-way system, so basically when you start, there’s no going back. Climbing around the battlements is how we spent Sunday afternoon, and this is what did for my thighs on that first hill. Ow.

Once I got to work, in just 20 minutes, I realised that I hadn't brought the lock, so would have to put the bike inside. Cue much difficulty getting through the security door, and a swift rescue by one of my colleagues.

I’m about to contemplate heading back up the hill to fetch Millie for the journey home. It looks like rain. I think I need chocolate. I know I need someone to help me get the bike back through the door.

I wonder if the cat is still in the tree.

"Please confirm your lunch reservation..."

Is it just me, or is there an irritating new trend among sales people to go for the pre-emptive close before they've even actually spoken to you?

I've just received an email entitled "Your lunch reservation" which goes on to say:

"I haven't heard back from you regarding your lunch reservation and want to make sure we can give an accurate head count to our venue partners in London. If you are unable to make it to any of our lunch seminars, please click here to cancel your complimentary reservation (or forward to others in your organisation)."

I've never spoken to anyone at this organisation, nor have I shown any interest, as far as I'm aware, in what they're selling - events management, since you ask. The irony.

I find it presumptious in the extreme that they are expecting me to get back to them if I don't want to go. Still further, if I can't make it they'd rather like it if I could do their job for them and get a colleague to attend instead. This can't be an effective tactic.

It's second only in rudeness to another alarming new approach which we experienced the other day when the entire KMUK marketing department, past and present, received a direct outlook meeting request as a first point of contact from an organisation trying to sell us marketing services. They received short shrift when they finally bothered to pick up the phone.

I find these sorts of approaches highly discourteous, and more than likely to create a negative impression of the organisation and people using them, which, when they're trying to sell me marketing services, is counterproductive on more than one level.

Anyone else experienced this sort of approach? Does it make you reet furious?

Sometimes, just occasionally, meetings go a little like this:

(with apologies to A A Milne)

One day, when The Chairman of the Board and the Managing Director and the Sales Director were all talking together, The Chairman of the Board finished the mouthful he was eating and said carelessly: "I saw a Customer today, Sales Director."

"What was it doing?" asked the Sales Director.

"Just limping along," said the Chairman of the Board. "I don't think it saw me."

"I saw one once," said the Sales Director. "At least, I think I did," he said. "Only perhaps it wasn't."

"So did I," said the Managing Director, wondering what a Customer was like.

"You don't often see them," said the Chairman of the Board carelessly.

"Not now," said the Sales Director.

"Not at this time of year," said the Managing Director.

Then they all talked about something else, until it was time for the Managing Director and the Sales Director to walk to the train together. At first as they stumped along the path which edged a wood, they didn't say much to each other; but when they came to the stream and crossed it, and were able to walk side by side again, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and the Sales Director said, "If you see what I mean, Managing Director," and the Managing Director said, "It's just what I think myself, Sales Director," and the Sales Director said, "But, on the other hand, Managing Director, we must remember," and the Managing Director said, "Quite true, Sales Director, although I had forgotten it for the moment." And then, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, the Managing Director looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice:

“I have decided.”

"What have you decided, Managing Director?" said the Sales Director

"I have decided to win a new Customer."

The Managing Director nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for the Sales Director to say "How?" or "Managing Director, you couldn't!" or something helpful of that sort, but the Sales Director said nothing. The fact was the Sales Director was wishing that he had thought about it first.

"I shall do it," said the Managing Director, after waiting a little longer, "by means of a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, Sales Director."

"Managing Director," said the Sales Director, feeling quite happy again now, "I will."

And then he said, "How shall we do it?" and the Managing Director said, "That's just it. How?"

The Managing Director's idea was that they should dig a Very Deep Pit, and then a new Customer would come along and fall into the Pit, and----"Why?" said the Sales Director.

"Why what?" said the Managing Director.

"Why would he fall in?"

The Managing Director rubbed his nose, and said that the new Customer might be walking along, humming a little song, and looking up at the sky, wondering if it would rain, and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit until he was half-way down, when it would be too late.

The Sales Director said that this was a very good Trap, but supposing it were raining already?

The Managing Director rubbed his nose again, and said that he hadn't thought of that. And then he brightened up, and said that, if it were raining already, the new Customer would be looking at the sky wondering if it would clear up, and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit until he was half-way down....When it would be too late.

The Sales Director said that, now that this point had been explained, he thought it was a Cunning Trap.

The Managing Director was very proud when he heard this, and he felt that the new Customer was as good as caught already, but there was just one other thing which had to be thought about, and it was this. Where should they dig the Very Deep Pit?

The Sales Director said that the best place would be somewhere where a new Customer was, just before he fell into it, only about a foot farther on.

"But then he would see us digging it," said the Managing Director.

"Not if he was looking at the sky."

"He would Suspect," said the Managing Director, "if he happened to look down." He thought for a long time and then added sadly, "It isn't as easy as I thought. I suppose that's why new Customers hardly ever get caught."

"That must be it," said the Sales Director.

They sighed, and walked on, and all the time the Managing Director was saying to himself, "If only I could think of something!" For he felt sure that a Very Clever Brain could catch a new Customer if only he knew the right way to go about it…