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Non-Fiction
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| On The Lendel Bridge | |
| By patterjack | ||||||||
| 27 January 2007 | ||||||||
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On the Lendel Bridge After a week in York we decided that , having seen those sights that were available , and having endured a rather unhappy pantomime at the otherwise pleasant York Theatre , the only one open during the period , ( which summed up my drama experience in York ! ) , it was time to leave there . My main concern was that , with the Ouse in flood , the trains might be suffering cuts . I therefore trudged off towards the York station immediately after breakfast at the boarding house -- a very generous English breakfast of bacon , eggs , baked beans , sausage , mushrooms , fried tomato and fried bread with lashings of toast and marmalade or honey as well . We always found that the further one got away from London either to the north or the south , the larger the breakfasts became , and the only one larger than this was one served us in when we were in Devon , where the breakfast reflected the size of John the host and his ample wife , having , as well as all of the above , potato croquettes in quantity. Fortified by the warm food I set out -- boots squeaking as they trod deep in the fresh snow , with overcoat , gloves and a big furry Finnish hat that matched my big furry face , since I had a monstrous growth of beard at the time . I also had to put up my umbrella , as there quite a few snow flurries coming along the road , driven by an icy wind . Approaching the Lendel Bridge , I paused for a moment to look at the Ouse in flood , and then noticed that half the width of the bridge was closed by temporary traffic lights , red and green , flashing for short periods alternately to make just one lane of traffic , of which there was however absolutely none at that hour . Then, as I moved forward , out of the snow flurry came a figure on a bike . They breed them tough in Yorkshire , for his only protection against the weather was , apart from the usual pants , shirt etc , a waistcoat and a cap . Not even gloves ! As he approached the temporary lights , they turned red . Though there was not a car or other vehicle in sight , the old cyclist dismounted and waited patiently for them to change , allowing me to come up beside him . He looked across at me and made the classic English remark , in a thick accent . Foonny wayther . I agreed , but added that as an Australian I was quite pleased to be experiencing the snow . Just then the light turned green and he mounted and trundled off , apparently making some remark , just loud enough for me to hear , about weird bloody colonials . We did get out of York easily enough , and next finished up in Lincoln , which was really deep in heavy snow , pristine and pure on the park slopes near where we stayed . I still think with amazement , however , of the hardy gloveless gent on the bike .
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