Aaand we’re peddling again. Eighteen months ago (thank goodness for the search facility – and I’ll get to that word any minute now – on Bookwitch) I moaned grumpily about the peddling of bikes in fiction. I do enjoy a good complaint. Towards other people, and not directed at me.
I have now read two novels in quick succession where the main character peddles their bike. Several times. Consistency is good. It means they firmly believe you peddle bikes. Or their editors do.
Bikes obviously are peddled, but mostly in bikeshops or on Gumtree and similar sites.
And don’t get me started on facilities. Usually I rather hope I will be offered a toilet, or more generally a nice arrangement of useful things and services.
I was reading the local paper last week, about a primary school that had closed its doors for the last time. The building was so old and decrepit the school will be demolished.
And a new facility will rise in its place!
So they get rid of a school, and build a facility. It’s hardly surprising a facility won’t be as good as a school in getting the difference between peddling and pedalling across. (Offspring pedalled at their primary school. There was an after school class in safe cycling.)
(Psst, anyone want a bike? Or two? The Resident IT Consultant is about to peddle a couple of bikes, as we can’t even swing a squirrell in our garage at the moment. Which, presumably, is why one of them visited the conservatory a few days ago. Stray cats needing to be sent packing is one thing. But I can’t abide the thought of the squirrels starting in on our food supplies, having witnessed how they dealt with the Christmas canapés last December.)