I’m a great fan of psychogeographical wandering: I love the whole chronotope thing of getting lost in a landscape and drifting through timescapes; I love the whole Hazlittian and Solnitian walking and thinking at 2.5 miles an hour trope. I love walking, thinking, imagining and composing on my own.
But sometimes, the bicycle calls. The traditions of the Clarion Club beckon: a collective socialist exploration of landscape, history and conversation. That too has it place: a good old-fashioned bike ride. Or perhaps a bit of Mr. Polly; Mr. Kipps; Lucia and Georgino; or working-class hero; or green locomotion.
Cyclo-geography, however, is a new phenomenon: it needs an e-bike around these parts. The freedom to pedal with comfort up any Stroudwater hill; the satisfaction of knowing that you can explore as many valleys as you wish; the exploration of all those precipitous dead ends that you would never contemplate on your old steed; doing in two hours what used to take four; in short, extending your pedestrian practice of psychogeography, through the praxis of cyclo-geography.
And collective cycling has a rich heritage. Here is one strand:
Cyclists of the World Unite You have Nothing to lose but your Chains
The 1890s saw the development
Of the bicycle as we now know it,
Overtaking the posh boys’ plaything,
The cumbrous high-seated penny-farthing;
Here was a bike the workers could afford:
Second-hand, about twice a weekly wage;
New, about ten times that but with a deposit,
You could pay by tolerable instalments.
This was an end of century revolution:
The sun might not set on the British Empire,
But it also shone on working-class
Women and men cycling to work,
Or cycling for leisure along the lanes,
Roads and thoroughfares of this country.
There was a political change too:
The Independent Labour Party was formed in 1893;
Unskilled workers began to unionise
After the Bryant and May women’s strike of 1888 –
But no women had the vote, of course,
And only 60% of men over 21
In this so-called British democracy.
And so, socialism and cycling went hand in glove,
With the determined men and women
Of the Clarion Club Scouts,
Carrying the message of collectivism,
And the nascent liberation of women.
And this was a form of recreation too,
That working-class women could pursue,
Unlike tennis and badminton and croquet –
And bloomin’ ‘eck!
Women cycling in their knickers and bloomers,
Liberated from corsets and heavy skirts.
So, remember this history,
And remember this too:
Cyclists of the World Unite!
You have Nothing to lose but your Chains.
Here is the Clarion Club hymn – it would be great if anyone fancies updating the gendered language from a century ago and more.
The Clarion Club
Oh! Who rides by day and night, roundabout,
Tinkling their bicycle bell?
Hark how they near us with cheering shouts,
Hurrah! Hurrah! It’s the Clarion Scouts!
List to the story they tell.
What tho’ the weather be cold as an icicle,
Bravely they cling to their Clarion bicycle
Scattering leaflets, sticking up labels,
Filling a breach at old hostelry tables,
Such are the beings I’ll sing you about.
Three hearty cheers for the Clarion Scouts!
(Chorus):
Hurrah for the Clarion Scouts!
Hail them with strenuous shouts!
As bold as Lysander
To push propaganda,
Hurrah for the Clarion Scouts!
Down to the haunts of the parson and squire,
Putting opponents to rout;
Bestriding their steeds with pneumatic tyre,
Through village and hamlet, thro’ mud and thro’ mire
Rideth the Clarion Scouts.
Nailing down lies and disposing of fables,
Improving the landscape by sticking up labels:
What do they care for the wind and the weather?
If they’re alone or a hundred together,
They’re always eager to join in a bout.
Then give three cheers for the Clarion Scout.
What do these labels mysterious teach?
What is the message they bring?
Something that comes within everyone’s reach:
A gospel of unity – that’s what they preach.
In praise of that gospel I sing.
Here’s Bob Blenkinsop:
Cycling out: Sunday rides with the fellowship
An occasional listener to Desert Island Discs, I tuned in to listen the other day to Norman Cook aka Fatboy Slim. He did not want to take the Bible for reading material; he chose: several copies of The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. Several copies? Oh yes. for Norman desired to give copies of the life of Hasting’s painters and decorators to those who would visit him whilst on his Island Odyssey. The DJ felt that this was the best fictional account of Socialism in action, and this was his vision for the island.
Hearing this reminded me of that scene in the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists when the Sunday cyclists came to town: “One Sunday morning towards the end of July about 25 men and women on bicycles invaded the town”
They distributed leaflets on socialism. Their presence was greeted with some derision and some cheers. The distributed leaflet read:
What is Socialism?
At present the workers with
Hand and brain produce
Continually food, clothing and all
Useful and beautiful things in great abundance
BUT THEY LABOUR IN VAIN
This standard-bearing cyclist vanguard of the Clarion Club, founded in 1895, is still in existence today, with a Cotswold Clarion Cycling Club and other U.K. branches and one clubhouse (only open on a Sunday) on the West Yorkshire/Lancashire border.
On my Bike, along the canal I imagine: Stuart, Dennis, Andy B, Norman, Angi, Jenny and I, our baskets filled with leaflets, and, saddles set with optimism. We heed the Clarion Call to defeat the scourge of Reform and its fag face phoney leader, for that is the pertinent call.
The Cyclists visited Mugsborough at the end of July. Let us one and all cycle out with copies of the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, leaflets to give; be brave comrades, we are many they are few.
LOOK OUT FOR THE SOCIALIST VAN