THE OPENER / ANDREW TUCK
Stoking the fires
1. My partner has been lent an electric bicycle so we head out for an evening ride – me on my lovely but solely leg-powered model, him all charged up. Usually he is happy to pootle in my wake but today he moves with the sort of effortless regal pomp you’d associate with a maharaja aloft a magnificent elephant. A very determined elephant, mind. He glides past me again and again, waiting for me at the top of every incline with a weary look on his face that makes me feel like his ancient emissary given, as transport, a donkey that has little passion for movement and dodgy knees to boot. I keep saying things like, “That looks fun.” But he’s not biting. “It’s so much fun,” he simply concurs as he disappears from view yet again.
2. My neighbour has her phone snatched from her hand by a thief on a bicycle (not electric). He takes one look at her ancient device and throws it back at her. She looks oddly insulted telling the story, torn about what offended her most about the incident.
3. I am allowed to borrow the electric bike for the day. I have always been sniffy about such things and scorned the look of the giant batteries they come with. But this one is different: the battery is hidden in the frame and it has no buzzing sound. Nobody knows you are cheating. It’s like being Lance Armstrong.
4. If I had to choose one thing that summed up the year it would be a box of frozen scampi. Back in April we placed a food order with our delivery service and there was no fish of any kind available. Not even a fish finger. The only thing in this category was a box of frozen scampi – to the hopefully uninitiated, it’s something sort of prawn-like but disguised in a breadcrumb covering. Each one looks like a deer dropping. We bought the scampi. But they have remained frozen since their arrival. Perhaps the fact that I think of them as the “Bambi poop” has not helped their oft-suggested journey to plate.
5. Matt and Frank, two cycling passionate neighbours look over the electric bike with a certain clippy-cloppy cycle-shoe disdain. I might have had a sundowner by this point and, suddenly a little offended, challenge them and my partner to a time-trial on the bike around an agreed course of neighbouring streets. Turns out that everyone is a little taken with the whizzy wonder. I come in last, mind, just missing a podium position.
6. We’ve been watching Cardinal, a Canadian TV show about a sad-faced detective called John Cardinal. It’s based in Algonquin Bay, a fictional town in Canada where the weather is either mosquito-riddled heat or frostbite-inducing cold. But, yikes, the crimes – torturing perverts and messianic maniacs are more prevalent than moose. The town’s filled with bad ’uns. People talked about how Nordic noir thrillers packed out Copenhagen’s hotels with the genre’s fans but this will make you look at Canadians afresh. Let’s just say that if you see one holding pliers and walking towards you, run for it.
7. It’s like trading futures. Everyone around me seems to have taken bets on summer holidays with little idea whether they will happen. I lost Spain to new quarantine rules a couple of weeks ago and now have to see if Greece works out in two weeks’ time. To even think about it seems set to jinx it.
8. Actually another item that has lingered in our house since lockdown is a pack of loo rolls from a brand called Panda. We found them in a local shop at a low point (for hygienic paper products). They are diminutive, about half the size of a standard roll – better used as Christmas streamers perhaps. Plus, I am not sure that a panda strikes me as much of a bathroom pal. I have a feeling that, like Canadians, they have a sinister side. But I see that many museums are now collecting pandemic artefacts and I feel I have two good contributions.
9. According to headlines, Simon Cowell, he of TV talent-show formats, has fallen off his electric bike and broken his back. Will people never learn?
10. I forget to charge the electric bike. I cycle home using traditional leg power, the bike now free of all its old grace. Not elephant, not donkey, more pot-bellied pig with a wooden leg. I am very pleased to see my trusty old bike awaiting me at home. I promise to be more faithful.