We assembled at The Three Horseshoes at Helions Bumpstead earlier than usual, since the staff had worried Victor by saying that “an early departure and pub return was essential to ensure food availability”. Jeremy tried to join group1 but had to return to move his car so some local mobile post office, bank or some such could park in their usual place
Ah more to-ing and fro-ing.
Group 1 was eventually Myself, Howard, Maurice, Keith and Martin2, who mused on the origin of The Bumpsteads. So, I have searched for the answer. The planet is now a little warmer and some tech bro’ very slightly richer, but I can tell you all that “The place name Bumpstead originates from Old English, meaning a “place where reeds grow”. It is derived from bune (reeds, flax, or hemp) and stede (place or site). Now you can see how far human civilization has progressed.
Without further energy consumption I can also tell you that ‘The Three Horseshoes’ is derived from a farmer, who once had a horse, but one leg fell off. So, he only needed three horseshoes. The spare one is hanging up in the bar.
Now, can we please get on and ride our bikes.
The above photo shows the van and the discussion over parking arrangements. Also, some people having a chat, some people still arriving and a very patient bike which is waiting for somebody to eventually sit on it.
Go ahead. Get on. Make its day.
There were two further groups; Martin, Jenni, Deborah, Rod, Paul, and Ken then Victor, Graham, Charles, Jeremy and Alan.
We set out towards the Blue Egg in tolerably warm spring sunshine. It’s been so long since it rained, we would have to consult Chatgpt again to reassure ourselves that we were remembering it right.
The Blue Egg is located on part of Bluegate Hall Farm. The Egg derives from the hope that this shift away from traditional pig farming to a retail café and shop would grow into something else. It has.
Charles took full advantage of the calories available. Victor was starting to look more relaxed. Halfway through the ride and no disasters. Time for cake.
Inspection of the Blue Egg website shows the revamp of the kids’ part. Diversifying away from animals, which I assume bite and get you sued, to an ‘adventure playground’. Or swings and some logs as we would have called it many moons ago.
Fortunately, we were not further delayed because none of the club’s car-nuts had spotted the new Blue Egg – TOY LANDROVERS – on the website. Hireable for 10-minute periods it says. That was a lucky escape.
Some of the Blue Egg’s website was a bit more worrying.
I encourage you all to always examine advertising closely to avoid any subliminal messaging.
So, I’m supposed to want a hammer shaped bottle opener for my beer, am I? I don’t know if Deborah or Jenni do ‘fluffy’. I suspect not. But maybe that is the point. They are the ones out cycling. Maybe their sisters and daughters are too busy demonstrating their fluffy pink earmuffs on Tic-Tok.
This reminds me of a recent conversation. Father to son, “why haven’t you got a girlfriend yet” “Dad you don’t know how hard it is. On a date, when you can get them off their phones, you find they are air-heads and work in a nail bar”. “I see. I don’t think your mother has ever been into a nail bar. I must ask her, but she’s busy right now and won’t want me interrupting her”
My curiosity was aroused and I searched around pursuing my new-found interest in gender and socialization. I came across Butler’s theory of gender. Apparently, she is very clever and famous in certain circles. On reflection found I rather agree with her.
“Judith Butler’s gender theory argues that gender is not an internal essence or biological fact, but a performativity. A repeated, socially enforced set of acts (behaviour, clothing, speech) that create the illusion of a stable gender. Essentially, “doing” gender creates the illusion of “being” a gender, making it a social construct”.
I find that our society is quick reinforce gender assumptions, for instance to outfit male infants in blue and girls in pink. But history has a useful way of puncturing today’s assumptions. It shows this colour differentiation is quite new. Prior to the 1940s, boys wore pink and girls wore blue.
Trigger warning. Some people may find this bit of the blog upsetting.
If you don’t think advertising is important in enforcing social norms then consider this. We are told Santa Claus is real and he is a very jolly man dressed in red.
And it’s not true!
Sure, Santa Claus is real, but consulting Victorian Christmas cards will show you that he is supposed to be dressed in green. That was until a certain American company ran adverts in the 1930’s with him dressed in red.
The rest of the ride followed our own comforting traditions.
Group photos at the windmill. Return to the pub.
Where the necessity to hurry proved unfounded, since we were back by 12.30 and the kitchen staff were fine with a group of this size. Then a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday for Andrew, who kindly bought us all a drink as part of the celebration of another of his trips around the sun.
Special thanks go to Victor who stepped in to organize this ride at short notice. There’s quite protracted gap in the ride organizers spread sheet at the moment.
Should it be more widely disseminated?
The Windmill Cycle Club 