There is a man who wails in the evening. He wails for hours at a time. It’s not every night but it’s often enough that I started thinking that he must be doing a kind of ritual.
At first, I was curious. Then it got a bit annoying. Even though he lives in another building, I could clearly hear him from the kitchen and the bathroom. I wondered what would happen if I shouted, ‘Shut up! Some of us are trying to relax here!’
It wasn’t the way to go, though. In London, people have been verbally abused and physically attacked for telling others off. And at least this wailing man has a decent voice. It would have been really grating otherwise.
I eventually asked my flat mate Aoife about it. She smiled knowingly.
‘The wailing man? Yes, I hear him. I think he has a mental problem and his mother looks after him. Last year, they had the window open and I could hear him all the time.’
‘Oh, your room is on that side of the building!’ I exclaimed. ‘It would have driven you nuts.’
Aoife said, ‘I went over twice to ask them to close the window. I’m sorry about the kid but all I wanted was for them to close the window. Eventually, I called the Council and someone came to speak to the family. Since then, the window has been closed.’
I have been dreaming about riding a bike. In my dreams, I can feel my legs working at the peddles and my hair flying back as I tear through Regent’s Park.
I blame the dreams on the warm weather. And even though I know this springtime sunshine won’t last, I can’t get the cycling dreams out of my head.
Well, then. Maybe it’s time to buy a bike.
Because I live in a flat with no garden or storage space, this bike would need to be a folding bike.
The premier folding bike is the Brompton. Ah, the Brompton — so cute yet elegant! So compact yet functional! So desirable… yet expensive. A new Brompton would set me back at least £570.
(I also discovered that there is a good chance that a second-hand Brompton bought via Gumtree would be stolen goods. I can’t bear the idea of profiting from the heartbreak of a former Brompton owner out there.)
‘Damjan,’ I said. ‘I think I want to buy a Brompton.’
‘Great idea!’ Damjan said supportively. ‘You’ve been thinking about it for ages.’
I was taken aback. ‘No, I haven’t! I just thought of it yesterday!’
Damjan hmphed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen you perving at them. Every time one goes past, you stare.’
I conceded that, yes, I do indeed perve at Bromptons.
After days of obsessing over folding bikes, I eventually convinced myself that I didn’t need one. I walk to work. I’m away most weekends. When would I have time to ride a £600 bike?
Just as I had made my decision, I spotted this online: the Dahon Mu XL Sport. I had read about this bike and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Normally £800+, a sports shop in Devon was selling the 2008 model for £450.
Dahon folding bikes aren’t as elegant as Bromptons but they have other advantages. This bike has 20 inch wheels, bigger than the 16 inch Brompton wheels. The parts are standard components compared to Brompton’s specialised ones. This means that when I take the Dahon to Australia, I can repair and replace parts easily. The Mu XL is around a kilogram heavier than the standard Brompton but for the extra weight I get not only bigger wheels, but also eight gears instead of three.
I agonised for all of twenty minutes.
Then I clicked ‘Buy it now’.
Dahon Mu XL Sport
Isn’t it beautiful? It arrived within two days. All I had to do was take it out of the box, unfold it and pump up the tyres.
I rode it for the first time today and I felt giddy. I was so excited I could feel my heart pounding. Riding this bike today felt exactly how it was like when I was riding my dreams.
(I have already bought a ‘f*** off, thieves’ lock. Everyone I know has had a bike stolen and there’s no way any Gumtree or Brick Lane merchant is going to get their hands on this one!)
I was proud of myself. Even though I was late for work, I still managed to make my own lunch by throwing together tuna, sweetcorn and yoghurt. I had this mixture for the first time last week and it was very tasty.
Only as I closed the door to my flat behind me did I realise I had forgotten a vital ingredient. Without lemon juice, my lunch would taste pretty uninspiring.
So at 12:30 , I went to the local Tesco. Of course, there was a long lunch time queue. Finally, I reached the check out to hand over my lone lemon.
The check out lady scanned the lemon and said, ‘That’s 32 pence, please.’
I looked in my purse. ‘Oh no!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’ve only got 30 pence.’ Indeed, in the coin compartment there was a small heptagonal 20 pence coin and the larger round 10 pence coin.
‘Oh well…’ I began, pulling out a £10 note.
The check out lady held up her hand to stop me. ‘Why don’t you bring the 2 pence next time,’ she said slowly. I could almost see her mentally winking at me.
‘Oh…! Okay. Yes,’ I stuttered.
She smiled as she took my coins. ‘I’m not allowed to do this,’ she confided softly.
Back in the office, I told my colleagues about my 2 pence windfall. They laughed and said, ‘Well, you shouldn’t feel bad about taking advantage of Tesco. Did you see the news today?’
Tesco achieves £3bn annual profit
Supermarket chain Tesco has reported underlying annual pre-tax profits of £3.13bn, an improvement of 10% on the previous year… The profits are the highest on record for a UK retailer.
I said, ‘Yes, well, you know what they say. Every little helps.’
