Tuesday, November 27, 2007

How we get there

I miss my bike...Dear Father Christmas (I'm South African, that's what we say): if you exist, could I please have a bike? A vintage bike. Preferably with no gears and brakes in the pedal. And a basket. For my onions.

I rarely travel home at rush hour. My usual ride-time is 6 or 7pm by which time the crowds have thinned considerably. This, soon after 5 o'clock, looks considerably more civilized than it felt. All we needed was the addition of salt and olive oil.


  1. That's exactly her! (did we give her a name in the end?). Alas - a pity N. doesn't peruse your blog....
    But maybe there's another one lurking somewhere, one size bigger! I think a dutch 'oma fiets' would perfect for you - one can sit much more upright on those. They're considered creme de la creme in A'dam (they're preferentially stolen and sold by the junkies). If you've taken a sheep under your arm as hand luggage, maybe a 2nd hand bike too, non?

  2. Hm. It was a folding sheep?

    Oh! the bicycle (ours) was nearly stolen the other day by some Brooklyn hoodlums. They were pursued by Natalie in streetmode yelling expletives and threating their manhood, and her client, David, who was wearing a mud face mask.


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