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Look Mum No Hands! – on London’s cycle cafes

15 Sep

London is undergoing a bit of a cycling revolution these days, and not only because bikes have become accessible – well, accessible in theory, anyhow, but I’ll leave my gripes with the Borisbikes to another blogpost.

No, the cycling revolution also extends to improved safety, Skyrides and twelve Cycle Superhighways, two of which have already opened, amongst others. The fashion-conscious, meanwhile, have the now annual Tweedrun to look forward to, whilst there’s also a nude ride for those that way inclined. And then there’s the food.

The cycling cafes took over the capital this summer, and we naturally went to investigate. Can’t pass up the opportunity to eat cake in the name of blogging, after all. The Container Cafe, Lock 7 and the seasonal, now-closed Rapha Cycle Club are all part of the cafe come bike shop trend, but Look Mum No Hands! is probably the most talked about.

Look Mum No Hands! on Old Street

Look Mum No Hands! is on Old Street, and benefits from a great location along one of the main cycling thoroughfares, some very clever branding and a great taste in food. There is a workshop for your small and large bicycle dramas, a bookshelf of magazines and cycling-related books, and film nights – if your other half fails to understand your Tour de France obsession, this is the place to watch.

Sunday afternoon in the leafy courtyard

The free Wi-Fi had attracted an impressive array of laptops during our visit, not all of whom would have arrived on a bike, I suspect. Such is the appeal of the cafe that everything from smoothie-wielding urbanites to lycra-clad racing types congregate and linger in the leafy and surprisingly relaxing courtyard. Inside, old bike parts and cycling memorabilia hang from exposed pipes, creating an atmosphere that manages to be both trendy and friendly at the same time.

Signed shirts adorn the back wall, one of which might have been Greg Lemond’s, though it was hard to tell. That’s the trouble with signatures; the best ones are practically indecipherable. I’ll say it was his, just to inject some romance, though it really didn’t need it. The shirt itself, so devoid of modern fabric technology, did the job admirably, evoking times gone by, when cyclists braved death-defying descents without helmets and set off with little support.

Cycling memorabilia adds to the atmosphere in the cafe

Look Mum No Hands! offers plenty of support for London cyclists, however. The cafe serves delicious salads and dishes to fuel you up, smoothies and juices to tot up the vitamins, and, my favourite, cakes to nourish your soul. We settled in the courtyard with a chocolate and banana cake, which was delicious.

I’m not sure that Look Mum No Hands! is so good that it warrants cycling in London in order to visit – the terror and cold sweats induced by van drivers and cab drivers might take some shine off the experience – but it is close.

Old Warden – airship sheds, farm shops and vineyards

1 Jul

Mileage: 16 miles
Why: Exploring the countryside around Old Warden
Food:  Potato omelette and chocolate orange cheesecake

We drove our bikes to Old Warden last weekend, in order to do a loop around Shuttleworth College, Northill and Cardington (map here). At 16 miles, this seemed like a nice distance, but more importantly, set in what must surely be Bedfordshire’s prettiest countryside.

Hansl and Gretl land

We started off in Old Warden, where cottages with thatched roofs, white lattice-work on pink walls and perfectly manicured gardens seem to be lifted straight from a fairytale. The route skirted Shuttleworth, a stately home now housing a college, an aircraft collection, a Swiss garden and a bird of prey centre. We’d been before, so we passed by the entrance, but the collection is well worth a visit if you’re in the area.

Instead, we took a left turn to Ickwell and Northill, home of a maypole, more fairytale cottages and the first of many gastro-like pubs (The Crown) with fabulous beer gardens. We spied a kestrel swooping above us and took a moment to admire it before starting on the slight, but long-ish uphill section towards Cardington.

As we cleared the last hill, Cardington airship hangars suddenly appeared before us, which threw our sense of geography completely. We were that close? Really? The sheds dwarf the terrain and are impossible to miss if you drive anywhere south of Bedford, and coming upon them this close made us feel like Gulliver stepping into the land of giants. At 800ft long, they are on the big side.

The sheds are fascinating old relics, the biggest shed in Britain when built in 1916, and they are now listed.  Shed 1 is owned by AT Group, which is trying to revive the airship business, whilst shed 2, the restored one, has been used to film Batman, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Red Dwarf, amongst others. Paul McCartney has also done some practicing there, so we felt in good company.

Of equal interest, naturally, was Summerhill farm shop, which we stumbled upon on our way through. We didn’t buy anything, as the heat and the mode of transport seemed a bit impractical, but the array of meats, sauces, cheeses, fruit and bread were absolutely mouth-watering, to the point where I’m now planning a big BBQ purely so I can go back and indulge.

Gastropubs everywhere - this is the Hare and Hounds in Old Warden (www.hareandhoundsoldwarden.co.uk/)

But I digress. Our lovely flat route involved one 10% incline, and a fairly long one to boot, and it was at hand. The approach was long and flat, following a disused railway line, but we certainly got our work-out on the incline. This is where I have to ask – why is the wind always against us, and particularly so on hills, no matter which way we turn? If you’re doing a loop, surely the wind should at some point be in your back?

Having made a detour to Ireland, and yet another gastro pub (the excellent Black Horse), we then stopped for lunch outside the walls of Warden Abbey Vineyard, whose wines we’d just admired at the farm shop. From there, fern-covered forests enclosed the road on either side, and we also passed a mature tree plantation, which I found interesting – how big a garden must you have in order to be in need of a batch of 20-feet high trees?

Back where we began...

It was a fairly unglamorous picnic, in the end, since we didn’t find a single bench on the entire route, and so were left standing with our omelettes. We resolved to either make it a pub lunch next time, seeing as there is so much choice in that department, or else a luxury picnic back at the car. And that is indeed where we ate our chocolate orange cheesecake, though at least we had wonderful views of Shuttleworth college in the distance.

Maidens, ducks and figgy custard tart

14 Jun

Mileage: 6 miles – to Ampthill and back
Why: It was sunny, we had time to kill and a cake to eat
Food: Figgy custard tart

When I first arrived in England, a few things soon established themselves as complete mysteries; mince pies (do the English not like to enjoy good food at Christmas?), baked beans, that ‘how are you?’ is in fact not a question anyone would like an answer to, and why the weather is such a conversation topic. And cricket.

Just to prove I'm not lying

I will probably never understand mince pies, but I do get cricket now. It’s about lazy Sunday afternoons with picnics and polite gentlemen dressed in white, tweeting birds and perhaps a bit of Buck’s Fizz. I have in fact become so clued up that I now understand that 5 runs for 5 wickets, which is what Ampthill’s 2nd team had achieved by the time we arrived, represents a spectacularly bad score. With that in mind, a grand total of 64 runs must have seemed fairly respectable by the end, but it meant that our entertainment was cut woefully short, even if we got to see an impressive array of maidens and ducks (don’t ask me to explain, I’m not that clued up…).

Cycling the day after an England match turned out to be inspired, however, with everyone apart from us, the cricketers (or at least the visiting team) and a few spectators nursing their hang-overs. It was downright strange cycling down roads almost devoid of cars or people, but we got to own the roads for the day, and that was nice.

Meanwhile, we enjoyed a sunny Sunday afternoon in the best possible way, eating custard tart in Ampthill park, whilst watching 13 men do something or other with two bats and a ball. Isn’t funny that something that’s so difficult to get your head around can be so calming and relaxing once you get it?

A trip around the reservoir

31 May

Mileage: 10 miles – round trip around Grafham Water
Why: We’re finally getting some picnic weather, got to take advantage…
Food: Home-made aromatic vegetable pies, cakes from the local bakery and (involuntarily) a good deal of insects 

Pretty Grafham village

I shall be forever grateful to the mother who advised her son to ‘get out of the way, there’s some very fast cyclists coming!’ Yep, very fast, that’s us. (We weren’t really, but a good ego-stroking is always welcome.)

At only 10 miles, the route around Grafham Water doesn’t really provide much of a work-out, but it does make up for it in postcard prettiness; dinghies and little fishing boats bobbing up and down, white sails gleaming in the sun, geese hassling picnickers, over-excited dogs causing havoc in the car park. It’s always teeming with families, walkers, cyclists around the car park on good days, but the paths themselves are normally not that busy.

Rental bikes at the bike shop

Setting out from Perry, we did an anti-clockwise tour of the reservoir. The first half passes through pretty Perry and over the dam, where anglers and insects combine to make life difficult. Once we’d swallowed our share of midgets, we stopped at the cycle hire by the visitor centre to do some window-shopping in the excellent cycling shop – one of the best I know.

Pretty as the lake is, the path is at its most fun when leaving the water by the nature reserve. Twisting and turning through rapeseed fields and bluebell-covered forests, the track is hilly and full of surprises, which is why the signage seemed like a complete kill-joy.

‘Cyclists please dismount’ is displayed in eye-catching yellow both at the top and bottom of the modest hills, which made us wonder exactly who this was meant to protect – us or our helpless victims? Being somewhat confused by this, we did like everyone else and ignored them altogether.

Except for the health and safety obsessive signs, the fact that we had to jostle for space with other cyclists made the place seem thoroughly foreign. Great to see so many cyclists, though.

Back in the car park we found another sign, which informed us that it takes an hour and a half to do the route we had just finished in forty minutes, so I guess that explains the aforementioned comment on fast cycling. All the more time for a picnic – we’d brought camping chairs and perched them on the slope overlooking the lake with our pies, cakes and daily papers. Bliss.

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