world meets rosie

By: rosie

Aug 09 2011

Category: Uncategorized

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(Clockwise from top left: Hazel, Sven, me and Peter at The Harris Tweed Bike Ride: Glasgow)

I have so many nice images of this spiffing day to show you, but let’s start at the beginning with some classic posing. Three of us started the day with bacon sandwiches at my flat; Hazel, Peter and myself. I met Peter just the day before though he is a good friend of Hazel’s. We three, Mike and Roy were the core of the day’s silliness as far as I am concerned, though Sven, another new friend featured here was the instigator of much merriment.

To give a brief overview, the Harris Tweed ride is the first of its kind in the world, and this being the inaugural year, it was a very special and much anticipated event. Tweed rides are no new thing, but this one was a Harris Tweed ride and the turnout was excellent. Every person there was in a great mood and with a camaraderie based in like mindedness, really made the event magical – from the constant complimenting of each other to the  posing and surreptitious swigging from hip flasks. The basic premise is that everybody turns up dressed in tweed, upon a bicycle and we spend the day merrily cycling around Glasgow, stopping at different points along the way for sponsored treats. We were met at the beginning in Blytheswood Square by the organisers who proceeded to ply us with cups of tea, cubes of tiffin and providing porridge laced with honey and whisky. With this sitting atop our breakfast bacon sandwiches, I was beginning to feel heavy already. The stops we made along the way served to add to the vague fear that I might actually have cause to throw up with a heady mixture of excitement and overfeeding. What follows is a complete list of the stops and how much we consumed that afternoon.

Of course, we managed porridge, tea and tiffin at the start. After dinging our bells frantically at 1pm for the grand setting off, we must have cycled a full five minutes before we made it to our first stop – a very genteel pace was set and this was to continue for most of the day. At George Square, we were treated to a cool cream tea, consisting of lemon iced tea and cream and jam scones. I could only manage to share a scone with Hazel as we were both struggling with the amount of food on offer, even at this early stage. I mingled and chatted to various characters; one couple and their dachshund in a tweed dress, members of the Brompton* Club and even baffled members of the non tweeded public.

Anon, we left and a mere couple of blocks away we skidded to a halt in the mounting drizzle for another short break and black pudding rolls. This I managed to eat and enjoy as it was an antidote to all the sweetmeats we has been treated to by this point. I snaffled my roll to cries of “Get it doon ye!” from a lady I realised used to be my yoga teacher. It has become my new mantra, in jest only, mind you. And off again, unlocking the bikes and adjusting our waistcoats, we sped on to the West brewery for a tipple of their fine ales. We had an eye on the time constantly, attempting to justify eating and drinking so much whilst trying to stay in the saddle. There were shouts of “2:29! Beer time!” and “2:31! Beer fun!” from some members of the peloton.

Exhausted yet? I was getting into a nice groove by this time, but it was to be cut short by the now heavier rain and by an irritating slow puncture that had to reach a pique in the driving rain. I halted to pump up by rear tyre with one knee in a puddle and my face literally streaming with water. Not with tears, dear friends, but with the sheer force of rain pummeling me. I was saturated. My tweed was becoming stiff with dampness and my scalp was awash – I had no foresight to have worn a bunnet. That was to be the day’s most poignant error. I made it to the transport museum, desperate to warm up and dry slightly. I was beginning to become cold, though my spirits remained undampened by the rain, now that I was in the saddle again. On again to the Crabshakk for freshly shucked oysters and to the Ben Nevis for a whisky cooler. It was at this point that some of the group took it upon themselves to produce a series of varied hip flasks. I have to say that I joined in the toasts with gusto, but with one eye out for policemen…

From there, just one last stop at Stravaigin for ice cream floats, which we topped up with dashes of hip flask whisky. The warmth provided by the beer and hot roll had worn off entirely and we were by now somewhat drenched. I sustained a painful bruising of the hand by diving the bike into a pothole, mere metres from the finish line, back at the Blytheswood. It is still very tender still but has not prevented me from working, thank goodness. And that was it! Back into the Blytheswood Hotel for a hot gin cocktail to warm us through, hairdryers were on hand to alleviate the worst of the damp and a swing band was in full flow. It was sumptuous! Along with Peter winning the ‘Best dressed Gent Award’, there were many more fantastic moments before we finally put the tweed ride to bed. A fantastic day was had by all, and it unfolded into an evening of dancefloor derring-do and hijinks, but there just isn’t room left in this post to go on – perhaps in the coming days I shall detail more from this eventful story.

If you’d like to scroll through the entire day’s shenanigans, please have a flick through this Facebook set. There are some splendid shots in a Flickr set by Sisterphonetica (including Peter and I posing as the album cover. Very flattering!

*A popular folding bicycle.

– Today Rosie is getting her nose back on the grindstone after another overfilled weekend in Glasgow, Scotland –