Motorbike memories, tall tales of folding bicycles, the return of Covid and some lovely live tracks on this week’s Beatcrofting
Carless for the past week, pottering about on foot and aboard my ancient Brompton folding bicycle, I’ve been thinking about motorbikes. Just as the season for riding the things in comfort begins to fade into death-dealing wet leaves, black ice and frozen fingers, the old yearnings return.
But all that guddle: the awkward creakiness of protective clothing, the claustrophobia of a helmet. And the discomfort: numb hands and bum, sore back, the inevitable chill, deep in the bones. And of course prospective death, serious injury, paraplegia. Fear.
There is the thrill of balanced, fast snaking through traffic; the glory of an early morning’s sunrise blast as you live out your Easy Rider fantasies on the single-track roads of sheep-infested Shetland. You imagine. You remember.
In Troon, I wander up Templehill, to the old Cooper Brothers showroom where we used to gaze in awe at the Triumph Trident they could never sell, sitting there brand new in its perpetual pool of leaking oil. That heady smell of petrol, burnt metal and tyres, the affable Les Cooper regaling us with tales of his TT misadventures (“I looked up and there was my leg in a tree”). And finally the Honda C50 (bought in 1973 for £19) that was the sum total of my teenage motorcycling. Nothing compared to my pal Stewart Howard’s 1950s BSA Gold Star, mean and massive, all clip-on bars and single-cylinder thump.
Now you can buy a brand-new, gorgeous facsimile of the Gold Star, made in India and designed to appeal to sad old bastards like myself, yearning for a lost or never-known youth. It’s even affordable.
But I’ve already done all I need to to on bikes big and small. As a returning biker in my 40s, then on into my 50s, there wereMoto Guzzis, BMWs, Triumphs, Hondas, Yamahas, Kawasakis, Suzukis…a Harley Davidson. Until a certain sense, an occasional unsteadiness, and the firm disapproval of my wife bought the whole motorised two-wheel adventure to an end. I thought.
Another winter beckons, and it’s too late for this year. The magical Brompton can be carried aboard busess, trains, hopped off for walking if the slope’s too steep or the traffic too threatening. It’s healthy. And I can wear what I like. Bicycle helmets and lycra are fine for the Tour De France or the world championships in Kelvingrove. Not for the grocery run to Morrisons. Not at 67.
At 68 it may be another story. If we’re spared. Oh, and what is the old Cooper Brothers showroom now? A funeral parlour…
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I’ve been watching the Netflix documentary series Spy Ops, which varies from absolutely fascinating to repetitive and extremely tedious. Still, the episode about the US takeover — ‘invasion’ seems an exaggeratrion, as the US Marines basically had to cross a road from their Canal Zone compound — of Panama had all sorts of stuff I was unaware of. General Noriega holed up in the Vatican Embassy, Persuaded to leave by having his uniform carefully pressed and sent in…and by the incessant playing of The Clash’s version of I Fought the Law. Which, in the week Star Action Toys released a Joe Strummer plastic model figure, still sounds great.
https://www.staractionfigures.co.uk/840049845350
Covid III: Remember To Hydrate arrived, courtesy no doubt of all that rail and bus travel last week, not to mention being jammed in a hideously sweaty Royal Institution with Delia Smith and host of food writers. Some say you shouldn’t bother testing; as a doctor’s wife It was de rigueur and the double red lines duly appeared.
I haven’t had this year’s flu and Corona vaccination booster and at first I thought I was in for a real hammering: dreadful headache, uncontrollable coughing, “upset stomach” (he said discreetly) and the worst kind of summer cold. Also, overwhelming tiredness, lack of energy and the fear of percarditis, one of the hallmarking and terrifying outcomes of this new strain. Given my heart issues, I started back on the 75 mg aspirins as well as the daily blood thinners and assorted gubbins.
Sunday was when I began to feel rough and tested positive. By Thursday I was still lumbering under a cloud of mild sniffiness but feeling a bit better. But to isolate or not? Alone in Troon, I kept to the open air, biked about and used FFP2 masks for any very brief visits to quiet shops. Drank lots of water and vitamin solutions. And ate lots of chocolate.
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I also managed to make some progress on the wee book I’m helping Mona McAlpine publish about her time working as a midwife in South Africa, during and just after the apartheid era. A sequel to her lovely memoir A Fair Isle Nurse, dealing her year as the only medical professional on Fair isle in the 1960s.
The paperback version of the book will be out in late October and contains some extraordinary stories. It has a really striking cover by the great John Tsang and you can pre-order the Kindle version on Amazon here:
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A quick word about my next literary project, which will be a print and digital book, but also make extensive use of Substack, with a paid subscription level to include a finished version of the paperback or Kindle book, lots of extras including music, photographs,artwork and text.
Working title is Could Have Had Religion: Jesus, guitars and deep-fried Mars Bars. It’s a kind of memoir, digging into my religious background, musical and eating activities up until the age of 28. The aim is to tell stories of a way of life which doesn’t exist, and is fading from memory fast. And to make it funny without destroying reputations, notably my own. Such as is left of it.
Anyway, you have been warned. An excerpt next week.
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This week’s Beatcrofting begins to move on from the 1970s obsession that was consuming me. Though I couldn;t resist that fantastic live (short) version of Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick or Danny Thompson and John Martyn’s Bless the Weather. Also live is the Little Village take on John Hiatt’s Lipstick Sunset, which contains possibly the most exquisite guitar solos I’ve ever heard, from Ry Cooder.
You can stream the show on 60 North Radio (7.00pm on Fridays) or on Mixcloud here:
https://www.mixcloud.com/tom-morton2/beatcrofting-with-tom-morton-friday-15-september-2023/
Trashcan Sinatras — Bloodrush
REM — Cuyahoga
Sandy Denny — Solo
Ian McNabb — Fire Inside My Soul
John Martyn and Danny Thompson — Bless the Weather (live)
Jethro Tull — Thick as a Brick (live)
Steeleye Span — Black Jack Davy
Little Village — Lipstick Sunset (live)
The Clash — I Fought the Law
Lloyd Cole — Like Lovers Do
Kevin Ayers — Stranger in Blue Suede Shoes
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