I had a cold cycle ride to Uppermill market this morning. Whatever wave of warmer weather the meteorologists have been promising us with their maps of the UK glowing warmly yellow-orange, has clearly not reached our bit of the country yet. The wind was bitterly cold. What I would like to know is how the wind can be against you on the outward journey and then be against you again on the homeward journey. Where is the logic in that?
For a brief moment or two as I rode away from the market the sun broke through and the temperature rose but only briefly. The sun pretty soon decided that the wind was too cold for it and it scuttled back behind the clouds. My local weather app tells me it will be sunny later in the day but that remains to be seen. I must say, however, that I appreciate the longer days. It’s very good to,be able to go out for a short walk at five o’clock, for example, and still have a little low sun in the sky.
I discovered a new hazard this morning. Well, not really new. I was aware that it existed but it had never really bothered me until today. It’s people walking along so concentrated on whichever podcast they are listening to that they don’t hear my bicycle bell. And I have a very good bicycle bell, far superior to many other examples, very loud and clear.
The first example was a woman with a dog. At first it looked as though I could get past the woman, who seemed to be walking alone. Then the dog joined her, running down from the embankment where presumably he had been doing doggy stuff like chasing squirrels. Now they managed to take up the whole width of the bridle path. I rang my bell in plenty of time. The dog looked and then carried on weaving about on his bit of path. I rang my bell again and again … and again! To no avail. I was getting closer. I called out “Excuse me!” at the the top of my voice. Still to no avail! I came to rather a screeching halt and almost fell off my bike. Then she noticed me and apologised profusely. She didn’t appear to be deaf but was listening to something on her phone.
I must say that most people walking their dogs are very careful about ensuring that the hound is by their side, keeping still and clearly trained or being trained not to chase after people on bicycles. I thank them politely, congratulate them on their four-legged friend and wish them good day. They are usually friendly and considerate. As a rule they thank me for warning them with my excellent bell.
This is definitely a modern improvement. Years ago, we were on the Donkey Line encouraging Granddaughter Number One to learn to ride her bike properly. Suddenly ahead of us we spotted some people with two small fluffy dogs. We all slowed down. The dog owners allowed their small fluffy dogs to run out the extent of their leads and get tangled round the wheel of Granddaughter Number One’s bicycle. She fell off, of course, and has never mastered the art of cycling. She still has a nice scar on her knee though!
The next example of headphone-induced temporary deafness came as I turned off the main road onto a section of the canal towpath, before getting back onto the Donkey Line to head for home. The towpath is narrow and at that point it goes past a lock gate. I had no wish to land in the canal as I wove past the lady ahead of me, all fluffy white curls and a pair of those Scandinavian walking poles. I rang my bell. Again no response. As I got closer it was obvious she was not hearing me. I got off my bike and started to push it. She sat down on the bench and produced a cup of coffee. I could probably have ridden past her but I usually alight to go round the lock gate mechanism anyway. I would have liked her to know I was just behind her all the same. Once she sat down and noticed me, she took her headphones off and apologised. As I had already suspected, she was an old friend. We stopped and chatted about stuff and laughed at the fact that she had been quite oblivious to my presence.
It’s not just my bicycle bell that these assiduous podcast or loud music listeners don’t hear. Presumably they don’t hear the birdsong either! I wonder again, as I have wondered many times, why people need to listen to something as they walk along. What’s wrong with letting your mind wander as you wander, listening to the sounds around you? In Scandinavian countries they have a tradition of “forest bathing”, in other words walking, preferably barefoot, through woodland areas, letting the silence wash over you or “bathing” in the sound of nature all around you. I assume they don’t do that when plugged into their phones.
And this inability to cope with silence is not confined to the young. My podcast-listening friend is a few years older than I am. Sony must accept some of the blame, having invented the Walkman in 1979. Today’s young mostly don’t know what a cassette is, let alone carry a portable cassette player around with them. Streaming is the thing … and a personal playlist. By 2010, when production of the Walkman stopped, Sony had built about 200 million cassette-based Walkmans. Or should that be Walkmen?
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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