some extent, the “everyman” in all of us. To the “somebody cycling” and for the “somebody not cycling” Mark Shelton offers a memoir that will summon up images of our own rides and explain of what non-cyclists have missed. It will also help explain why and how one element in our lives can influence and, even come to define, our real selves.

 

With high production values and a number of colour photos, the lay-out is clear and attractive. Nor is it just the lay-out. The author’s style is easy-going. You could sit and read and read without a jarring note, whether reading about struggling through the snow, failing to complete a tough Audax, or replenishing with a feast in the sunshine after a glorious day. There are, of course, many books like this, that tell tales of a cycling life as opposed to the heroic exploits of cycling titans or how cycling has aided recovery form personal traumas, but another is very welcome, especially when the prose flows just as the stylish cyclist pedals, seemingly without effort.

 

I think this ease is partly down to the fact that Mark Shelton is very much a cycling “Nobody”. That is not an insult. I am in the same boat. No, seeming ordinariness is a virtue. The first chapter refers us to George and Weedon Grossmith’s “Diary of a Nobody”. If you have read this, or heard the wonderful BBC radio version featuring Arthur Lowe as the fictional diarist, Charles Pooter, you’ll know that Pooter does not feature in the dramatis personae of his era, but as a “Nobody” the vividly humorous picture he paints of middle-class life in late Victorian England draws us into one man’s experience of the ordinary life; unique, but one we find strangely familiar even at a distance in time and place.

 

I could relate directly to almost all of what Mark had to say, except for ironman and time-trialling exploits. It helps that I know “the Rock” and the Anchor; that I have ground out an 200km Audax in a gale force wind, that I have skippered a tandem with my other half stoking, that I’ve ridden up the “killer mile” to Mow Cop. I have not had the same experiences and friends, but I have ridden in the snow to get to the pub, gone the wrong way, and ridden vintage road bikes over terrain which, in the modern era, has become the province of the gravel or off-road bike. Most of all, I have had the pleasure of touring, and love touring tales.

 

If that is why I enjoyed “Somebody Cycling”, why should fellow cyclists do so? Well, you may never have ridden down “the Rock”, but you will have memories of cycling somewhere that felt magical when first encountered; you may never have been to the Anchor, but you’ll have felt smelt the scent of a summer night on your way home from somewhere like it. “Killer Mile" to Mow Cop? You may not know where it is (although if you have driven up the M6 or travelled by train between Stoke-on-Trent and Manchester you may well have seen it), but you’ll have suffered somewhere in the name of “fun” or “sport” or “bloody-mindedness” or some other excuse. If you are a “Nobody”, and I suspect for a lot of “Somebodies”, this is eminently relatable.

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What if you are not a cyclist and look away as soon as that blasted machine turns up in a cover photo. We’we have all been young and found independence in our own way – the bicycle just happens to be one of the best – and we can relate to how cycling, just as other activities, become part of us. Who does not enjoy a bit of insight into the life of someone else? A bit of travel to foreign climes – not to mention foreign climbs (worth reading all this way for that, wasn’t it?). You never know, you might learn a bit about bicycles and cycling. The author does not get bogged down in the often convoluted and arcane lore of bicycles or the equally peculiar and obscure rules and customs of cycle sport, unless necessary. When he does venture into these areas, it is with a light touch that brings clarity for the purpose of the tale and relief for the uninitiated.

 

Mark has a background in the law, having worked in a variety of roles in that profession for four decades. Writing widely in that sphere, I am sure his work is thorough, accurate, and erudite. No doubt, his work has brought profit and learning to many. I doubt if any have brought so much pleasure to the reader as “Somebody Cycling” will. Nor, I’d hazard, given the warmth in the tales, will any have given the author so much pleasure to write. A book to bring cheer to anyone who has ever set off on a bicycle and found things they did not expect but have come to treasure.