Friday, 18 May 2018

Beinn Sgriol

Beinn Sgriol from Ladhar Bheinn
Wednesday, 16 May 2018

Ascent:         1095 metres
Distance:      8 kilometres
Time:           4 hours 6 minutes

Beinn Sgriol       974m       2 hours 20 minutes

Leaving Torrin on Skye to get to Glenelg was not as straightforward as I had hoped after getting down from Bla Bheinn. I immediately drove to catch the Kylerhea to Glenelg ferry, figuring that I could eat some lunch on the ferry or during the wait for it. Despite the narrow single track road with few passing places that runs from the A87 at Broadford aerodrome to Kylerhea there were few delays. I arrived just before 2pm as the ferry was on the slipway. Unfortunately, all 6 car spaces had been taken so I was told that it would take twenty minutes for it to return. If only that were the case.

The tide was at its lowest ebb of the year and the ferry had to make a long dogleg across the narrow channel. It took far longer to return than expected and struggled to reach the slipway in low water or to let down its ramp. Three cars and two German bikers with touring BMW bikes were eventually loaded and then shuffled up and down the rotating platform several times before the weight distribution allowed the ferry to reverse off the sea bottom. Its diesel engine was emitting black flumes of smoke and the seabed well and truly agitated.

It was well after 3pm before the ferry reached the Glenelg slipway and the long drive to Arnisdale began, through Glenelg village, past Gavin Maxwell's house at Sandaig (Camusfearna) and on to the remote village of Arnisdale. I parked at the far end of the village at the designated parking place overlooking the shore but then discovered that the start of the path had been relocated to the entrance to the village. It took me ten minutes to return and prepare for the walk, changing into an old pair of Inov8 trail shoes that would be scrapped at the end of the walk after five years of good service.

Two ladies talking outside the Post Office pointed out the start of the path. Immediately I was confronted by a narrow boggy path that climbs to about 100 metres before taking a sharp right diversion through a new gate, crossing a couple of burns and then joining the original path from the centre of the village. This is the start of a brutally steep ascent. I had been up this way only once before on a weOctoberer day and I now realised why. It is an even worse route than the steep climb through almost impenetrable from the road three miles west of Arnisdale that I had endured on a couple of occasions. On a warm sunny May afternoon, it was going to be a long sweat inducing slog.

I met a young couple from Ambleside, they complained that even descending the path was hard work and so much more difficult than walking in the Lakes. They did acknowledge that the views from the summit were worth it. This part of the climb continues to Bealach Arnasdail at 604 metres where there is a turn to the left and then another energy-sapping climb up the east ridge. There is a path but it meandered into a scree slope at 750 metres. Then another 150 metres of dancing on boulders to reach the top at 906 metres.

Suddenly the views were spectacular in all directions and the walking became enjoyable as I ambled down and across a grassy ridge to the summit about a mile away. It was 6pm as I reached the broken cairn and languished for ten minutes in the glorious evening sunshine. As I had hoped the views to Knoydart and along Loch Hourn were stunning whilst Skye glistened beneath the sinking evening sun in the west. I figured that it would be almost 8pm by the time I was back down to the car.  I needed to decide whether to drive home, 4 hours at least, assuming I could stay awake at the wheel, or return to Lochcarron for another night. It was a no-brainer, I phoned my brother and by 9pm I was drinking a bottle of Red Cow bitter from the local Strathcarron brewery and enjoying a ham salad. Sleep was assured after 9 hours of walking and 2100 metres of ascent.

Glenelg ferry
Hits at the start of the walk in Arnisdale
Steep or what?
Beinn Sgriol from 906m top
Summit looking over Knoydart
Loch Hourn and Knoydart
906m top from Beinn Sgriol
Arnisdale Bay
Main street

Bla Beinn


Bla Bheinn approach via Torrin
Wednesday, 16 May 2018

Ascent:         1011 metres
Distance:       9 kilometres
Time:            4 hours 31 minutes

Bla Bheinn        928m   1 hour  58 minutes
South Top         926m   2 hours 23 minutes

A rare spell of good weather prompted me to head to Skye with the intention of climbing Bla Bheinn and Ben Sgriol over the sea on the Glenelg peninsula. Time was precious as we are moving house in a fortnight. I drove up the night before and stayed with my brother and his wife at their cottage at Lochcarron. It allowed an early start, although they thought it a bit much to attempt the two hills in a day. My mindset was that I had always done Ben Sgriol along with another hill: Bla Bheinn in 1992, Maol Chean-dearg in 1998, Gairich in 2004 and 2008. I liked the crazy logic of fitting disparate hills together and why should age get in the way!

I left at 7:30am, the day looked promising with a white overcast sky threatening sunshine later. Going over the Skye bridge I was disappointed to see the erection of a Marine Harvest fish processing plant reaching for the sky. It is a harbinger of what is happening to Skye as it overloads with tourists prompted by the tired language of Visit Scotland advocating it as 'home to some of Scotland's most iconic landscapes'. Skye is now suffering all the indignities of an overpromoted tourist destination: no bed spaces, crowded tourist destinations, high prices, a surfeit of camper vans, road rage on the now overwhelmed single track roads and an influx of the wealthy retirees dotting the landscape with new houses. Only the midges, weather and remoteness are there to counterbalance the reckless pursuit of tourism.

Nevertheless, the single track road to Torrin gave inspirational views of the ever magnificent Bla Bheinn. I parked at the car park at the foot of the climb and prepared for the walk, it was not yet 9am. I set off at the same time as a recently retired teacher from Hexham and we walked up together. She was a hill runner and mountain lover but slightly apprehensive about tackling the climb on her own, it involves some route finding and scrambling to reach the summit. The path along the Allt na Dunaiche is delightful and has a gradient that is perfect for limbering up. It steepens on crossing the burn and climbs to about 400 metres into Coire Uaigneich, which exhibits a magnificent erratic boulder amidst the rare oasis of green flat land.

We decided to take the direct route to the summit rather than the slightly less steep climb via the South Top. It was a good decision and although the going was steep over gabbro boulders with some loose scree in a gully, the concentration and continuous conversation hastened the climb and we made the summit in under two hours. Although the sky was mainly white cloud, the views of the Cuillin ridge were excellent. We enjoyed a 15-minute break for photos, drinks and gawping at the vistas before deciding to extend the walk by scrambling over to the South Top. It had not been my original intention but I was well within my schedule to be down in time to climb Beinn Sgriol in the afternoon.

It is a short distance with minimal descent between the twin summits but there is a scramble up a gulley to reach the South Top. I took a higher line at first along some broken rocks but the footholds eventually gave out so we had to retreat and drop down some scree to make the start of a gulley that has loose rock but soon pops out on the top. The views to the small isles were better from the South Top although there was a slight sea haze. We lingered to look at the splendour of the Skye ridge and Loch Coruisk and I spotted the weather station that explains why I can get a forecast for Bla Bheinn from the excellent Met Office website. As we began the twisting descent down the loose rock we met a party of young Dutch walkers who had spent several days walking down the west coast of Skye. They had enjoyed the best of weather and exuded a happy countenance, they were mesmerised by Skye's scenery but then Holland is very flat.

We reached the large boulder having passed two parties of Americans struggling up the rocky path without much enthusiasm but at least they were out of their cars. The contrast with the Dutch walkers could not have been more pronounced, elated Europeans against downcast Americans, c'est la vie! And then we were left with the very pleasant walk out as the heat of the day began to rise. It had been a grand day out but still only 1pm, leaving plenty time for the next outing. I still felt full of walking and left immediately in order to reach the Glenelg ferry as soon as possible. The journey back along the single track road back to Broadford was slow with a great deal of tourist traffic interspersed with agitated locals coming the other way. Reaching Beinn Sgriol was another adventure but that's for another post.


Red Cuillin from below the summit
Skye ridge and Vanessa trig point
Maybe the last time, I don't know
The Skye Ridge from Bla Bheinn
From the South Top towards Eigg
Skye ridge and weather station below South Top
Boulder in the Coire
Path along the Allt na Dunaiche

Monday, 30 April 2018

Steel Knotts and Hallin Fell

Hallin Fell and Ullswater

Sunday, 29 April 2018
Ascent:        555 metres
Distance:     6 kilometres
Time:          1 hour 50 minutes

Steel Knotts       433m             35mins
Hallin Fell         398m      1hr   7mins

On the way back from Liverpool, Gregor had decided that he would like to run the newly opened Ullswater Way, a 20-mile trail around the lake with over 850 metres of ascent. We left Preston after a lazy breakfast and drove to Pooley Bridge via Penrith. He began an anti-clockwise run from Pooley Bridge and I drove down to Howtown to climb two of the Wainwright hills: Steel Knotts and Hallin Fell. I parked by the Howtown Hotel where Gregor would finish his run. It was cloudy so I decided to climb Steel Knotts first, hoping to get sunnier views of Ullswater from Hallin Fell later. There is a metalled road alongside the Fusedale Beck so I followed it until a signpost to Hallin Hause, which took me to the start of the steep path that climbs up the southern ridge of Steel Knotts.

Conditions were perfect for walking, cool with excellent visibility. I passed an older couple who were keen walkers but handicapped by living in London and this was their first foray of the year. We shared yarns about Lakeland days for a few minutes before I continued for the final kilometre to the summit. I took photos for a couple from Penrith who described themselves as weekend walkers who had begun to tick off the Wainwrights. After helping them identify the Lakeland hills from St Sunday's Crag and Plaice Fell to Blencathra, they pointed out a bungalow with a bright red roof in Martindale. It had been built by the Earl of Lonsdale as a shooting lodge but was now a holiday cottage. He had hosted a visit from Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1910, transporting his party to the modest shooting lodge in a yellow Rolls Royce. Although Martindale was a fine deer estate, the gamekeepers were directed to stalk all the rabbits into the valley for the Kaiser to unleash his weaponry with little chance of escape for the warren of rabbits. It probably encouraged him to do the same a few years later as he started the Great War.

I descended down a path to the splendid St Peter's Church nestling in a hollow at Hallin Hause. It is the starting point for the walk up Hallin Fell and was mobbed by Sunday visitors. I continued up the steep grassy slope to Hallin Fell, surprised at how easy the walking seemed after recent days on the Scottish hills. At the massive square-shaped summit there was time to kill so I found some shelter from the cold northerly breeze, ate an orange and perused the map. The views were exceptional, Wainwright had described Ullswater as "that loveliest of lakes, curving gracefully into the far distance."

On leaving the cairn there was a path to the north that eventually terminates at some crags but the viewpoint confirmed Wainwright's observation.  I climbed back and followed the lip of the crags until finding a path back to Hallin Hause. Despite several conversations and diversions, I was down in less than two hours and it was half an hour before Gregor appeared still running easily and then going for an extra mile to reach his marathon training schedule.

Thereafter we retreated to the excellent Howtown Tearoom behind the hotel for some soup and sandwiches before the drive home. It was still early afternoon and the M74 was relatively free of traffic.

Hallin Fell from Steel Knotts south ridge
Martindale with The Nab from Steel Knotts
Summit of Steel Knotts, Loadpott Hill behind
Hallin Fell and St Peter's church at the Hause
Beda Fell and Plaice Fell in Boredale
Ullswater to the north from Hallin Fell
Howtown from Hallin Fell


Liverpool Visit

Liverpool Cathedrals

My birthday present from Gregor had been a ticket to watch Liverpool but it was a lunchtime game so the afternoon was free to visit old haunts around the university. It was my fifth visit to Liverpool since completing a postgraduate course there in the early 70's. Once for a reunion, twice to conferences and twice to watch a Liverpool game.

We travelled to the game by parking in Ormskirk and catching a train to Kirkdale on the Merseyrail Northern Line. I had carried out surveys and made recommendations for introducing Park and Ride facilities on the Northern Line for the Merseyside Passenger Transport Authority. It had been my first job after graduating working for the transport consultants; Peat, Marwick and Kates who were eventually merged into KPMG.

After the game, we walked from Anfield to the University through the old terraced houses of Everton and new housing areas north of Kensington. It is not the most salubrious part of the city and only as we came into Edge Hill did the cityscape reveal the inspiring clutch of new university buildings wedged between the two cathedrals. This was home territory, I had lived 200 metres from the university in an unfurnished dilapidated but elegant Victorian terrace that was due for demolition.

The campus was surprisingly student free, no one was to be seen on campus but the students union and several other buildings including my old department were undergoing refurbishment. We passed the splendid university Sports Centre designed by Sir Denys Lasdun, which I had visited almost every day to play five-a-side, swim or play squash. It was next door to the Civic Design department where 32 of us from ten countries and nine disciplines learnt from each other and were given the best of tuition from an eclectic group of academics. The department was located across from Abercrombie Square and the Senate House where, in 1970, we occupied the building for a sleep-in protest against South African apartheid and Liverpool University's investments in South Africa. I had been persuaded to attend by the student agitator Jon Snow, now of Channel 4 News.

We visited the site of my old flat in Bedford Street South, it had been redeveloped as student accommodation but had none of the architectural merits of its predecessor building. We went round the corner for a pint in the Philharmonic pub where I had spent many evenings in the days when the Liverpool beat poets, Roger McGough and Adrian Henri were regulars. It was mobbed with young and old professional looking people. Inside little had changed apart from the vast range of ales. We moved on to the Everyman Theatre and the Metropolitan Cathedral before walking down Mount Pleasant through Georgian terraces and some fine Victorian institutional buildings to Bold Street where we found a Vietnamese restaurant for a very late lunch.

We had originally planned to walk down to the waterfront and visit the Albert Dock but we had both made visits in the last ten years so caught the train back to Ormskirk. We took the direct route back to Preston and I was able to show Gregor the terraced house where we had lived with my grandparents until I was four and then the family house from my school years. Then back to my sisters and an evening at the local Indian restaurant that boasted a cabaret singer. It had been a full on day and tomorrow morning we planned a walk and a run in the Lake District before returning home.

Kirkdale Station

Liverpool University, a redbrick

Department of Civic Design

Anglican cathedralfrom Myrtle Street

Bedford Street South, a replica of the old flat

Philharmonic Pub

Metropolitan Cathedral and Everyman Theatre

Mount Pleasant terraces

Liverpool 0-0 Stoke City


Just one of those days
Gregor had got tickets for the Liverpool- Stoke game at Anfield for my birthday present. This was before the game became sandwiched between the Champions League semi-final games against Roma. Anfield has been transformed by the new Main stand with the public realm surrounding the stadium encouraging a happy atmosphere as a phalanx of fans from all over the world gathered to watch their team.

Last time I was at Anfield was in 1973 to watch an Inter City Fairs cup match against Spurs, Liverpool won 1-0 and we drove back to Glasgow overnight in the days before the M74 was built. I had spent two years as a fairly regular spectator at Anfield whilst at University. It was during a period when both Liverpool and Everton were dominating the game. Everton had the school of science midfield with Kendall, Harvey and Ball whilst Liverpool were at the start of their two decades of dominance. Kendall had been a Preston North End player and the youngest cup finalist in 1964. Liverpool also had an old school friend Brian Hall as well as Peter Thomson, a winger who also had played for Preston North End before transferring to the reds.

Everton won the league for the seventh time in 1970 to equal Liverpool, Arsenal and Manchester United on seven titles in the first division. Liverpool were about to take over and they had won 18 titles by the end of 1980's. It was easy to see how with Ray Clemence, Tommy Smith, Emlyn Hughes, Ian Callaghan, Steve Heighway and John Toshack providing ruthlessness and power to add to the skill of the Preston lads.

Liverpool were wonderful to watch in the 1970's with a hard pressing game that Klopp has revived. The crowd always combined raw passion with humour, as when they gave Gary Sprake a rousing reception every year after a game when he threw the ball into his own net. During most games, at least one spectator would be passed down over the heads of the Kop crowd to the St John's Ambulance. There was always respect and applause for good play from opposition players. It was so different from what I witnessed at other grounds at the time from Hillsborough to Old Trafford to Ibrox.

Despite the wonderful season that Liverpool had been having, this was not a game to relish. Stoke are deep into a relegation battle and decided to snuff out Mo Salah by any means possible and in that sense, Erik Pieters did a good job. But Liverpool were playing well within themselves, saving energy and avoiding injuries before the second leg with Roma. The crowd were in fine voice but even they realised that this was not going to be a classic and the game eventually petered out. Alexander-Arnold was completely at sea in a midfield role, Moreno gave his usual reckless performance, Henderson reverted to square passing and Ings showed that he lacks the pace to play in this team. Even the ever reliable Roberto Firmino was not his usual dynamic self.

Nevetheless we had enjoyed the atmosphere, we bumped into the programme editor who took a photo of me standing next to Shankley's statue and, as we were leaving, we were highly amused that the nearby Chinese takeaway was titled 'Wok On'.

Kick off looking towards the Kop end
Mo Salah about to take free kick
The massive new Main Stand

Sunday, 15 April 2018

Langdale Pikes

Pike o' Stickle, Great Gable behind
Saturday, 14 April 2018

Ascent:       1240 metres
Distance:    15 Kilometres
Time:          5 hours 35 minutes

High Raise              762m     2hrs 49mins
Sergeant's Man        736m     3hrs   7mins
Thunacar Knott       717m     3hrs 30mins
Pavey Ark                697m     3hrs 42mins
Harrison Stickle      732m     4hrs   3mins
Pike o' Stickle         708m      4hrs 32mins
Loft Crag                 692m     4hrs 45mins

It was Alan's 70th birthday weekend and we assembled at Newby Bridge in the Lakes. I had thought that the logical walk should the Old Man of Coniston but Alan decided on the Langdale Pikes. Eleven of the party went for a sail on Windermere with four young children and eight of us and a dog headed for Great Langdale. I am not used to walking in large groups and when the car park at the Old Dungeon Ghyll was full with only a dubious place for one car, two of us returned to the New Dungeon Ghyll to find some parking and then set off to catch the other six. The summits were still in the cloud as we walked up Mickledon and met them at the foot of Stake Pass.

It is a well-graded path up Stake Pass that has been well reconstructed by the Lakeland pathmakers. Despite a heavy cold, I was walking well and enjoyed a conversation with one of the four people I was unacquainted with, a young teacher who hailed from Lerwick but taught in Edinburgh. We got carried away in conversation and arrived at the drumlin field having escaped from the rest of the group. We waited for the group and we had a drinks break before starting the meandering path through the drumlin field.

At the high point of the pass, I spotted a cairn for what I assumed was a path to High Raise. The path was veering in the wrong direction and became indistinct, after crossing a bog below Thunacar Knott, it curved towards Pike o' Stickle. It was not the path that I had thought so I decided to leave the rest of the group and make a rising traverse towards High Raise. It was a good two kilometres away and I doubted if anyone would have thanked me for dragging them up the grassy and boggy slope. High Raise is a flattish hill in the middle of nowhere. But what a wonderful viewpoint to capture the whole of the Lakeland hills. I met a man who had recently bought a flat in Kendal so that he could climb the Wainwrights. He drove taxis when not walking and said it was a lifestyle decision after his divorce and with an army pension and business in Dubai to support him. He was clutching his bible, Walking the Wainwrights, a book by Stuart Marshall that condenses the 214 Wainwrights into 36 day-sized walks. 

On returning from High Raise it was time to turn on the afterburners as John had said he would wait for me at Pike o' Stickle. Sergeant's Man was an easy ten-minute walk from High Raise and I wasted no time at the summit before heading back over to Thunacar Knott. I realised that it was well over an hour since I had absconded from the group and that they probably would have had lunch on Pike o' Stickle and be heading for Pavey Ark, the last of the four Wainwright summits that make up the Langdale Pikes. So I headed for Pavey Ark and by walking in the opposite direction I hoped to meet up with the others. My logic was sound but they had decided to give Pavey Ark a miss and to descend after Harrison Stickle. I saw them 40 metres below me as I was on the traverse from Pavey Ark. I hollered and they looked up but ignored me. I was not going to forsake the remaining three summits so I continued across to Harrison Stickle. It is a stiff final climb before the summit, which was occupied by a dozen or so walkers and about the same number of dogs.

There was no time to stop because John was probably waiting along the route, so I continued down the path towards Pike o' Stickle. As I reached the bealach before Pike o' Stickle I noticed someone huddled on the ground. He looked familiar and it was John, he had strained his Achilles tendon the previous day and it had got progressively worse so he had decided to wait for me at a place that he thought I would pass. We agreed that he would begin the descent and that I would climb Pike o' Stickle and Loft Crag and hope to catch him. Although I have been up the Langdale Pikes half a dozen times, it is a long time since my last visit and the terrain did not seem familiar. There is a gently rising path followed by a steeper and rockier climb to the summit. A couple from Somerset were admiring the views on their first visit to the Lakes and we struck up a conversation about the Dolomites. By this time the cloud of the morning had given way to mid-afternoon sunshine with good visibility so their enthusiasm for the Lakes was understandable.

It is a quick walk with a minimal ascent to Loft Crag where there were no other walkers. After some last photos looking back to Great Gable and the Scafells, I took a direct route down to the path that runs back to the New Dungeon Ghyll hotel. It is well made with stone steps for much of the route that made for a quick descent, I caught John just before the gate leading to the final section to the hotel. The other six were enjoying a drink outside the Dungeon Ghyll so we joined them in celebrating Alan's birthday walk with a local real ale. They seemed to have enjoyed the walk that had included both Pike o' Stickle and Harrison Stickle. I was not admonished and they seemed unconcerned that I had disappeared to climb High Raise, Sergeant's Man, Thunacar Knott as well as the Langdale Pikes.


Through the Drumlins on Stake Pass
At the top of Stake Pass before I led them astray
Scafell Pike from High Raise
High Raise,  Sergeant's Man and Pavey Ark from Harrison Stickle
Harrison Stickle and Lodge Pike from Pike O' Stickle
Harrison Stickle
Great Langdale from above the New Dungeon Ghyll

Saturday, 7 April 2018

Five years a Papa



Hallowed steps
Commuting to the nursery without April showers

Brixton days
Time flies as you watch your grandchildren acquire skills and understanding at a pace that seems far more rapid than the slow stepwise acquisition of knowledge by our generation. Our granddaughter was five at the weekend. We had spent a week looking after her and her brother,. The highlight was enjoying the magical moment as she learnt to ride her bike. The moment when I let go of the saddle and watched her wobble a while and then straighten as her cadence increased. It brought back happy memories of the similar fledgeling moments with our children. It seemed so natural and heading back from the park I was running to keep up as she dodged the tree roots, bins, and occasional empty cans that make pavements in London such an obstacle course.

It was so different from the 1950s, I had learnt to ride by begging a friend to let me have ago on his bike with not an adult around. I had to wait until after my seventh birthday before acquiring a bike, it was called a BSA safety model. At the end of the two weeks of the Easter holidays, the handlebars were bent, the paintwork dented and my knees and elbows decorated with plasters and a visit to Accident and Emergency had been required. Nevertheless, I had cycled over 200 miles according to the 7s 6d cyclometer attached to the spokes. There were no helmets, no riding on pavements, and my knowledge of the highway code only extended to cycling on the left. Safety model was clearly an oxymoron unless my riding style was too cavalier.

Perhaps it was thinking about this that made me show her Danny Macaskill's video of cycling on the Skye Ridge. She was mesmerised, cycling was opening a door to all sorts of exciting adventures. In our generation, cycling was mainly the means to get a paper round and to save the bus fare for getting to school. There are now as many cyclists on the roads in London as in the 1950's and everywhere the high-density inner city housing is catering for bicycles on landings. Elsewhere pavements are littered with bikehangers and Sheffield stands. Some hi-tech office complexes have bike storage garages with mechanics employed to service the high-end bikes of the executive managers. The roads in the morning and evening rush are dominated by bikes despite the horrific diesel fumes that infuse the capital. The evidence would suggest that this is more the result of buses, commercial vehicles and taxis than cars.

Our two-year-old grandson had developed skills on his scooter that included carrying an umbrella during the April showers as well as speedy journey times for the nursery run. I found him one day playing with my phone looking at photos and touching them through with a dexterity that eludes me. He knows where everything in the house is kept and how to reach it by using a combination of chairs, stools and boxes to climb to every supposedly childproof shelf and cupboard. His fascination with the outside world was evident as he stopped to watch the man from the Council mowing the lawns for the first cut at the start of summer. He refused to move when we passed an ambulance that had been called to a cyclist who had been knocked off by a hit and zoom off motorcyclist. He then stopped at the nearby residential home to wave to one of the residents who always looks out for him. His refusal to wear his new shoes suggests that he has inherited a stubborn streak from someone.

We took our granddaughter to central London to buy her a birthday present and took her to see her mother's workplace at the BBC. Exhausted by the end of the week, we were to fly home and showed our age by both of us forgetting our mobile phones as we piled into an Uber taxi that had arrived within two minutes of our booking for the trip to Clapham Junction. Most of the next generation would forget their luggage before their phones, we had to turn the taxi back and suffer the indignation of being cast as 'nincompoops' by our granddaughter.



Bike parking in central London flats
Bikehangers