The sound of a bicycle being propped against the wall outside was less frequent than that of a horse's hoofs; but there were already a few cyclists, and a number of these increased when the new low safety bicycle superseded the old penny-farthing type. Then, sometimes, on a Saturday afternoon, the call of a bugle could be heard, followed by the scuffling of dismounting feet, and a stream of laughing, jostling young men would press into the tiny office to send facetious telegrams. These members of cycling clubs had a great sense of their own importance, and dressed up to to their part in a uniform composed of a tight navy knickerbocker suit with red or yellow braided coat and a very small navy pill- box cap embroidered with their club badge. The leader carried a bugle suspended on a coloured cord from his shoulder. Cycling was considered such a dangerous pastime that they telegraphed home news of their safe arrival at the farthest point in their journey. Or perhaps they sent the telegrams to prove how far they really travelled, for a cyclist's word as to his day's mileage then ranked with an angler's account of his catch.
"Did run in two hours , forty and a half minutes. Only ran down two fowls, a pig, and a carter", is a fair sample of their communications. The bag was mere brag: the senders had probably hurt no living creature; some of them may have even dismonted by the roadside to allow a horse carriage to pass, but every one of the them liked to pose as "a regular devil of a fellow".
They were townsmen out for a lark, and, after partaking of refreshment at the hotel, they would play leap-frog or kick an old tin can about the green. They had a lingo of their own. Quite common things, according to them, were "scrumptious", or "awfully good", or "awfully rotten', or just 'bally awful'. Cigarettes they called 'fags' : their bicycles their 'mounts', or ' my machine', or 'my trusty stead': the Candleford Green people they alluded to as 'the natives'. Laura was addressed by them as 'fair damsel', and their favourite ejaculation was " What ho!' or 'What ho, she bumps!'
But they were not to retain their position as bold pioneer adventurers long. Soon, every man, youth and boy whose family were above the poverty line was riding a bicycle. For some obscure reason, the male sex tried hard to keep the privilege of bicycle riding to themselves. If a man saw or heard of a woman riding he was horrified. 'Unwomanly. Most unwomenly! God knows what the world's coming to,' he would say; but, excepting the fat and elderly and the sour and envious the women suspended judgement. They saw possibilities which they were soon to seize. The wife of a doctor in Candleford town was the first woman cyclist in that district. "I should like t tear her off that thing and smack her pretty backside ,' said one old man, grinding his teeth with fury. One of more gentle character sighed and said; 'T'ood break my heart if I saw my wife on one of they', which those with the figure of his middle-aged wife thought reasonable.
Their protestations were unavailing; one woman after anotherappeared riding a glittering new bicycle. In long skirts it is true, but with most of their petticoats left in the bedroom behind them. Even those women who as yet did not cycle gained something in freedom of movement, for the two or three bulky petticoats formerly worn were replaced by neat serge knickers - heavy and cumbersome knickers, compared with those of to-day, with many buttons and stiff buttonholes and cambric lin9ings to be sewn in on Saturday nights, but a great improvement on the petticoats.
And oh! the joy of the new means of progression. To cleave the air as though on wings, defying time and space by putting what had been a day's journey on foot behind one in a couple of hours, with a light ting,ting of the bell and a casual wave of recognition.
At first only comparatively well-to-do women rode bicycles; But soon almost every one cunder forty was awheel, for those who could not afford to buy a bicycle could hire one foe sixpence an hour. the men's shocked criticism petered out before the fait accompli, and they contented themselves with such mild thrusts as:
Mother's out upon her bike, enjoying of the fun,
Sister and her beau have gone to take a little run,
The housemaid and the cook are both a-riding on their wheels;
And Daddy's in the kitchen a-cooking of the meals.
And very good for Daddy it was. He had had all the fun hitherto; now it was his wife's and daughter's turn. The knell of the selfish, much-waited upon, old-fashioned father of the family was sounded by the bicycle bell.
Flora Thompson LARK RISE to CANDLEFORD First published 1945 Oxford University Press; pages 492/493/494.
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