Bookbinding challenges - Ploughing and sewing

Hi there!

Bookbinding is actually very far removed from farming, even if the title of this post sounds like it might be about farming.

So why sewing?

To make a book you need many signatures, and no, I'm not talking about anything to do with petitions. I'll do a separate post on signatures since they have their own very exquisite complexities and can result in a lot of head-scratching. Suffice to say that a signature is a basically a booklet. In the case of my book, we're talking about four sheets of letter-size paper, 8 1/2" by 11", with two pages of the book printed on each side of each sheet, so four book pages on each sheet, resulting in each signature containing 16 pages of the eventual book. In the case of my book there are 22 four-sheet 16 page signatures, and one five-sheet 20 page signature.

To make each signature, once the four sheets are printed, they are folded in half, all together, so that they are nested. If the signature plan is right, and they were printed correctly, when you turn the pages of the first signature you will find pages 1 to 16 in the correct order. Once I did all the printing and folding (there will be a separate post just on the art of folding, amazing no?) I had the 23 signatures.

This is where the sewing comes in. Oh... right, did you punch holes in the signatures? Check out my post on hole punching if that's something you plan on doing.

A special kind of waxed thread is used to sew the signatures together. Depending on the technique you  choose (there are many) you will need a weird curved needle, the waxed thread, a template and a piercing cradle to make sure that the holes all line up (see that post), and, in my case, I used a combination of French stitches and kettle stitches. I learned it all from this amazing YouTube post by Chanel of Bitter Melon Bindery.

Here's what I have. It's made up of my 23 signatures, printed on cheap paper with my Hewlett Packard black and white laser printer. I printed them to make sure they were right, and for proof-reading. As you can see, they have been sewed, and a layer of glue has been applied.

What you are seeing is kettle stitches at each end, and French stitches in the middle. It looks pretty good, but looks can be deceiving.

So why ploughing?

It's all about uneven edges.

With 23 signatures, even if the folding was meticulous, and the sewing was really, really good (this is only my second attempt, so no, it's not), inevitably the edges of the signatures don't line up as you see with even the cheapest paperback, or a commercial pamphlet.

The solution is simple.

Well, no it's not, at best it's simple-ish. Professional artisanal bookbinders use massive wooden ploughs with a kind of a special matched tool like a hand-held wood plane that runs back and forth across the edge of the book and trims the edges. Industrial outfits use massive hydraulic gillotines to do the job. So what the heck am I doing?

The key turns out to be a skiving knife

Since I'm only going to produce, at most, one or two books, it doesn't make sense to invest in a plough. An alternative approach is to use a sharp knife to trim the page edges. First you need a setup using a book press and some scrap book board. The trick is press the book once it has been sewn leaving the edge to be trimmed aligned with the edge of the press set up.

As with every aspect of this project, I am deeply aware that trial and error will be the key to eventual success. Another key ingredient is making do with homemade tools to the extent possible. The trick is to know where to draw the line. It is possible to be too cheap.

To figure out the do-it-yourself book press trimming method, I am learning from a master bookbinder's insightful course on edge trimming that he was kind and considerate to post on YouTube. If you are seriously considering binding a book, watch this video by DAS Bookbinding.

I live in a condo and my home office is my workshop. That means that I don't have the tools handy that my Dad had in this home wooodworking shop. For instance, the only grinder I have is my Dremel. That means that repurposing a wood chisel into a proper skiving knife by rounding the edge, is out of the question.

First I tried trimming with my scalpel - blade's too small and too short, and the edge is tapered on both sides of the blade. Then I tried, multiple times, with my box cutter. It kind of worked, and the trim was 'OK', but not good enough. These attempts were applied to my first 11 signature attempts, the experimental ones that taught me how to make proper signatures.

So I ordered a proper skiving knife from Lee Valley.

It is perfect, the edge is perfect, and it is beautifully Zen, with its plain wood handle, and a blade that came stunningly sharp. That it is made in Japan delighted me. I wasn't expecting that.

Why was I delighted, you ask. That's a good question. Allow me to digress a little.

The other day I was trimming bookboard with my scalpel. Depending on whether I am cutting with the grain or against it, and whether I am using a fresh blade, it takes me from 75 to 143 passes with the scalpel to complete the cut.

That takes concentration, and a lot of patience. Getting ready for our imminent trip to Japan, I bought an album of modern Zen Japanese music on iTunes. To complement the wonderful calming serene musical backdrop, I posted this image on my iPad, taken from a recent newspaper article on the best places to see in Japan, so I could contemplate the image while I took pass, after pass, after pass with my scalpel. Me being me, I counted my passes ("... 54, 55, 56, 57...").

I suspect you may feel that this a poor way to spend my precious time, but I assure you, it made me feel... very "Zen". When the cut completed and the board separated, and I saw that the edge was close to perfect, it was a source of deep satisfaction.

Practice makes perfect

That is so true.

This project of mine has two test books, and hopefully one final attempt that will be close enough to perfection. My fingers are tightly crossed.

Where do things stand?

As mentioned earlier, I have at present two test books. 

The first test is truly trashy. It consists of the earliest signature tests, something like 10 or 11 signatures. As I worked on this initial test, I also started experimenting with covers. The cover and the book are closely related but in fact are completely separate until the very end.

The first test cover was just glued to the first book test, and the 'finished' book will sit in the book press overnight. I'll share that little saga in an upcoming post. For now all I can share is that it has a brown leather cover, with a 'window' on the front cover that reveals the cover art. It has many flaws. The good news, I think, is that I have learned a lot from the first test.

The second test will attempt to come much closer to the final product. At present that second test book has been folded, sewn and glued, that's all. The good news is that all the pages are right side up, and all in the right order, from the introduction to the conclusion.

Stay tuned. That's all for now.

Feel free to ask questions in the comments. I promise to do my best to answer them.

Bye for now.  

Elbows up, Canada!

I was twelve when Canada's Prime Minister Lester Pearson decided that it was time for Canada to celebrate its independence by adopting a national flag to replace the flag known as the Canadian Ensign. The former flag placed too much emphasis on Canada's imperial roots. I remember the summer of 1964 when versions of our new flag were circulating seeking public consensus.

Ultimately our simple red and white maple leaf flag won the day.

When I began riding Vespas I sewed a modest Canadian flag on each of my riding jackets. That was pretty much the first and only time in my life that I had a Canadian flag on anything I owned. I did that because when I rode in the US, which I did on multiple occasions, I wanted people to know I was a proud Canadian.

Canadians never flew their flag anywhere near as much as Americans flew theirs. Most Canadians felt, to be honest, that Americans were far, far, far too addicted to the Stars and Stripes. 

All that said, if you look carefully, you will now see a Canadian flag on my Brompton.

There is one on the other side of the bike as well, and I have one on my helmet, and one on my helmet's winter shell.

I sewed one on the strap of my sling and there are now Canadian flags on our cars, one here...

...and one here as well...

... and we are also flying a Canadian flag on our balcony...

We are doing this because for the first time in our lifetime, Canada is under attack from the US. I never would have thought that would be possible. And yet that is what is happening. Our economy is being hammered by American tariffs, and as American democracy flails under a growing aggressive presidential dictatorship, our independence and our sovereignty are under attack by Americans, along with those of Panama and Greenland, all while an aggressive tariff war is being inflicted by Americans on the global economy.

We are now flying our flag not so much to make an impression on Americans, because that is pointless. We will never cross the border or buy American products so long as this insanity lasts. We are doing it to remind our fellow Canadians that we stand strong and defiant, because we cherish who we are as a nation.

Elbows up Canada!

Make sure your voice is heard by voting in the upcoming Federal election!

Riding into the past's present

Cemeteries make some people cringe. I get it.

To me they are interesting, and a nice way to find valuable context.

On my Vespa I visited family members at the Mount Royal cemetery, back in Montreal.

Here in Toronto, my Vespa took me across Toronto to see the intimate connections of Toronto to Vimy Ridge, including majestic Vimy oak trees, and the resting place of Walter Allward, the man who gave the Vimy Memorial to France in honour of Canada's soldiers who fought and lost their lives in World War I.

Back in Montreal, in suburban Beaconsfield actually, my grandfather's resting place is in the Last Post Cemetery, one of the few military cemeteries in Canada. Georges Terroux fought in World War I. I would often ride my Vespa to visit his grave, and it was also within dog-walking distance from our home. 

My Brompton, all by itself, doesn't get me too far from home, but we do have a cemetery within bicycle range. And that cemetery has its share of surprising wonders.

Among them: 

• a member of the Romanov family who escaped from the Bolshevik revolution, Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna of Russia;


• THE Tim Horton (yes THE doughnut king!);


• and yet another amazing individual you are about to meet.

Last year I found the princess and the king, but I couldn't manage to find the person whose resting place meant the most to me.

It's completely appropriate that her resting place eluded me.

Having lived an amazing and very public life, Barbara Frum is now very much sheltered and protected. It's as if she is wary of public life, in death, and seeks to avoid attention.

It's almost poetic.

To access her tomb, first you need to find it. It's not really visible the way most graves are. In the height of summer it all but disappears in the greenery. That's because it is a modest intimate gravel rectangle completely surrounded by hedges, with a single narrow gated stone passage on one end. The headstone is not in any way visible from outside the hedged enclosure.

Even in leafless early spring, it's still hard to find.

Once you do, you find the narrow passage through the hedge guarded by a massive cast-iron gate.

There is no catch, latch, or lock. All you need is a fairly hefty push to gradually open the gate and enter Barbara Frum's presence. A final obstacle is an unadorned grey stone high curb that makes you turn right as you enter the enclosure so that at first you face the hedge, instead of the headstone.   

True to her spirit, Barbara Frum's gravesite lacks any trace of typical pomp and circumstance. Her tombstone is very bare and does its best to be inconspicous. It faces inwards, into the gravel-covered, hedge-surrounded space, doesn't face the enclosure entrance, and faces away from the cemetery's open spaces. Such humility is rarely seen in any cemetery.

Who is this Barbara Frum, you ask?

She was the soul of CBC's As it Happens. I have such fond memories of commuting in a car and listening to the most amazing news stories. Like when in the spring of 1977 there was a large hostage event in three office buildings in Washington D.C. Barbara Frum managed to have one of the hostage takers on the phone at the B'nai Brith offices, and was speaking with him. She asked the guy to hold the line, they had another person to speak to. On the other line she managed to get the Washington D.C. police chief. Have you spoken to the hostage takers, she asked. No, came the reply, we can't reach them, and we don't have time to talk to you, we have our hands full. I have them on the other line, Ms. Frum said. And that's when the negotiations began. It kind of left me speechless. No? This was not an isolated bombshell, Barbara Frum managed to do this kind of incredible in-depth reporting week in, and week out.

So here you now have a tiny slice of my present, and of Barbara Frum's present.

Finding it, and sharing it with you, was easy-ish, thanks to my trusty Brompton, presently the key ingredient in my life on two wheels.

Bookbinding challenges - Building a piercing cradle

Bookbinding is a holy endeavour.

Relax! This has absolutely nothing to do with religion at all. Not even in any remote, metaphorical way.

I say it's "holy" because once you figure out the deeply strange domain of signatures (yes there will be episodes here devoted to the magic of signatures), the next thing you must do, if you plan to make your way to a beautiful leather-bound book with gilded pages, is to punch holes in the fold of the signatures.

The thing is, of course, that the holes can't be just anywhere, ideally, they must be right in the middle of the fold crease. In addition, the position of the holes should be identical in each signature.

As I experimented with signatures, I applied what I learned from Chanel of Bitter Melon Bindery. If you tend to be nervous or anxious, even if you have no interest whatsoever in bookbinding, check out Chanel's channel (odd, I just saw that - Chanel channel). Chanel is an expert bookbinder, and also a wonderfully calming person.

I learned everything I thought I needed to know from Chanel about hole punching. Following Chanel's lesson, I made a piercing guide, and bought an awl.

I figured I was set. So I punched holes in all my test signatures as they were printed, folded, and proofread.

Then a couple of weeks ago I looked closely at my draft signatures, and saw that my holes weren't as aligned as they ought to be.

Fortunately, Dennis of Four Keys Book Arts, another very gifted bookbinder, taught me I would be well served if I had a piercing cradle. Click here to watch the lesson I learned.

Following his guidance in his YouTube video, and only using the materials I had available, I was able to craft my own piercing cradle. Since the materials I had couldn't exactly match Dennis' measurements, first I made a test model from a sheet of paper.

Since that worked, I proceeded to make an actual piercing cradle from the book board I had and some scrap leather.

My piercing cradle will absolutely essential once I print the final version of the twenty-three signatures that make up the book I am making in their proper format, on really nice paper, in colour.

There will be no room for errors.

Using the piercing cradle, the holes I punched are now quite nicely aligned.

Bookbinding challenges - beginnings

Bookbinding is a hobby that has appealed to me for quite a while.

It began when I chose my career.

No, wait...

as I reflect on this, it truly started with books.

The earliest book I loved was a hardcover early 1941 edition of Curious George. I must have gotten it as a gift from my mother when I was three or four, so 1955 or 1956. I still have that book, it's in my library, quite beaten up, with love.

The iconic book jacket is long gone.

Books, books, books.

School meant more books. By the time I was done with school, books had literally framed my life. I once told my nephews when the eldest told me he was in grade three, that I was in grade 27. Their look of shock and disbelief was cute.

Early in my career as a lawyer, I started collecting leather-bound classics. As time passed, I received more leather-bound books as gifts.

Later still, I was responsible for selecting gifts to honour a prominent CEO on his retirement. One of the gifts was a custom-made, small, leather-bound book, in a custom case, that told the story behind another gift, a perfect reproduction of an iconic item from the company's historical collection from its private museum.

The process of creating that book introduced me to the brilliant bookbinder who made it. She was from Paris, and ran a bookbinding craft shop in Montreal where she and her colleagues also taught bookbinding.

A few years later I was working at another company that freed up a little time. I decided to take a bookbinding course taught by that very talented bookbinder. Among her skills was restoring medieval manuscripts. Wow.

Binding a custom-made book is a curious recipe combining paper, folding paper, measuring precisely, cutting exact shapes, sewing French stitches, and kettle stitches, practical geometry, a surprisingly complicated series of mathematical formulas required to achieve what is referred to as the imposition of pages and sheets to form signatures, and lots of sticky messy glue.

Finally, I am in the midst of actually creating my very first book from scratch.

I am lucky to be doing that now, because YouTube is a stage on which very talented bookbinders teach the intricacies of the craft.

I still have the tools I purchased when I took that bookbinding course (a steel ruler, a scalpel, two dividers, and a cutting mat). I recently added a bookbinding needle, waxed thread, special glue, brushes and a few other tools. I have also made some necessary tools (a book press and a hole punching guide) and I am now in the midst of making a piercing cradle. Oh... there's software too!

There is a lot I want to share on this journey of discovery, so that means that this is the first in a series of posts I plan to share. I may even decide to make a video or two. Time will tell.

I suppose that technically, this whole process is the polar opposite of Life on two wheels. This is not careening on a spontaneous journey on the spur of the moment. This is definitely slow and steady. It's not even life on four wheels. It's deep and thoughtful life, at a desk.

Who knows... if you are here, bookbinding may be in your future too.

I am honoured, truly!

I recently received news from Anuj Agarwal of Feedspot that this blog had been rated in the top 100 moto blogs.

“I would like to personally congratulate you as your blog Life on two wheels has been selected by our panelist as one of the Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs on the web. This is the most comprehensive list of Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs on the internet and I'm honored to have you as part of this!”

I can't begin to say how much I appreciate the recognition. It means a lot to me.

Thank you Anuj.

Back to 'normal'?

On Tuesday, April 1, 2025, ironically April Fools Day, I declared myself 100% recovered from my stupid overworking of my right leg on a morning ride on Tuesday, August 29, 2023. That the issue started and came to an end on Tuesdays, is just a silly coincidence that I discovered just now as I was punching the dates into my trusty date calculator. 581 days is a long painful time.

Well it's behind me now, and I feel blessed.

I am gradually getting back to my weekday routine. ~35 minutes of exercises (before the misery it was only 17 minutes, but the recovery path involved more exercise), followed by a bike ride.

I have taken my bike out each of the last three mornings.

I love to ride. That's why I live my life on two wheels.

This morning I was blessed with fog.

Out of the blue, a star?

I discovered jazz when I was, I'm guessing now, eleven or twelve years old.

There was a show on CBC television that played Dave Brubeck's Take Five as its theme. I knew instantly in that moment, in spite of my youth, that I was listening to something very different and it resonated with me. Wikipedia says that Take Five is the biggest-selling jazz song of all time and a Grammy Hall of Fame inductee. 

Going back to the dawn of smartphones, I have listened to two jazz radio stations pretty much all the time thanks to the magic of streams. The station I listen to most of the time is Toronto-based JazzFM91. The other station is Paris-based TSF Jazz. Their streams are stored in the Apple Music app on my iMac and my system is set up so that I can fill our home, room by room, with the jazz those stations offer with a trackpad click or two. Thanks to the stream aggregator TuneIn, Siri brings me the stream instantly when I say "Siri, play JazzFM on Apple Music".

Jazz helps me focus. Whether it was when I was still riding a Vespa and I streamed those stations into my helmet over bluetooth, driving the car and listening on-air, riding my Brompton as jazz streams into my AirPods, or sitting at my desk deep into some variety of a legal issue or into hobby time.

In the case of JazzFm, the station is "listener-supported". The only way the station and its amazing crew can continue to bring jazz into their listeners' lives, is with the donations it receives from its listeners, myself included.

As wonderful as jazz is, and in spite of the benefits to its devotees in terms of providing a creative soundtrack for our lives, it is not nearly popular enough to generate the advertising revenues that would allow the station to thrive without donor support.

A couple of months ago, the station reached out to me offering Susan and I a guided tour of the station's studio. How could we pass that up?

I wasn't expecting much, to be honest.

It turned out to be as expected, meeting the staff and crew in their work space... BUT, it exceeded my expectations in many ways.

First and foremost, the warmth, generosity, and welcome that greeted us as we intruded in the middle of a work day, was extremely touching. And not just from the station's listener-facing staff, but from the technical personnel and the legendary on-air host Brad Barker, even as we listeners invaded his studio with its complex of networked equipment with a myriad glowing lights and hundreds of buttons and sliders.

Brad Barker

Brad Barker

Talk about bulls in a china shop!!

As special and fascinating as the tour was, offering us a deep dive into the exquisite complexity of radio broadcasting in the 21st century, it also reminded us of the amazing commitment of the station to the community, and particularly its contributions supporting the jazz artists making a living in the medium, as well as the students at the most important music faculties in the local universities who know they can look to JazzFM for expert support as they take on the many challenges of launching a demanding career in entertainment.

But there was one stunning moment that I could never have anticipated.

We crowded into a small production studio that is used, among other things, for one-on-one in-studio interviews. As the producer explained the recording equipment spread out in a semi circle on his desk, he invited one of us to approach the microphone and speak their name when prompted.

Well... the space was cramped, and guess what? Susan happened to be right in front of the microphone. Never, never, ever, would Susan have volunteered to speak into a studio microphone. But what could she do... Susan was the only visitor in a position to meet the request.

She leaned into the microphone, and when prompted, simply said her name. She said it as you might imagine she might. Not by any means even close to the tone and assurance of a seasoned broadcast personality, but much more like a reluctant volunteer, with a touch of reticence, tempered by a strong dose of humility.

And that is when the incredible completely unexpected magic happened.

OMG I married a budding broadcast star!!

Happiness is... simple?

Life is one constant evolution... I know... I know.

This year is not what last year was, and it’s not what the previous year was either.

On a personal level, things are good. I just need to deduct politics from the equation. I have succeeded, to a degree, and I am happier for it.

I happen to be writing this post sitting in a municipal library while Susan sees our physiotherapist. We are hoping he will do for her, what he has already done for me.

This library has an interesting name. It’s the Wychwood branch of the Toronto Public Library, and it has a beautifully done interior, in a restored older building. It is so nice that it has prompted me to write this post.

Susan and I are blessed. We recently returned from just over two weeks in Amsterdam and Copenhagen, and we are already booked on a spring cruise to Japan. This next trip may be one I am most looking forward to.

Lately I am more focused on the artistic aspects of my life than at any time in the past. For instance, there is quite an artistic sensibility at work in this library. The dark finishes offset by the ample lighting as well as light from an abundance of large windows, the contrast between modern and traditional, the large open spaces, and of course, people focused on work and study, and the resulting quiet… so soothing.

In my case, artistic expression is, in some measure, after my wife and family, a source of my happiness, and it is primarily expressed in writing. To a much lesser extent I find it through photography. Ultimately, interior design and architecture are subjects that interest me. 

I would love to live in a minimalist, modern, Japanese-style home, with a garden in the same style.

Unless I buy a lottery ticket and win a ridiculous amount of money, that won’t happen. Maybe… but only if I actually bothered to buy lottery tickets once in a while. So, no.

From the beginning Susan and I have purchased furnishings with good design.  Some we have ended up seeing in museums in New York and Copenhagen.  We have really nice modern couches in our den and living room. We like clean simple lines. We appreciate well-planned lighting. We both love art.

All these aspects of our home are ingredients in my happiness recipe.

I am sharing this with you in case it helps you in your quest for happiness, for joie de vivre.

I’ll admit that my recipe for happiness is a complicated one with a lot of moving parts, yet ultimately, and quite ironically, simplicity is definitely one of its key driving forces.

I advocate simplicity whenever I get involved in a planning discussion with clients, friends, or family.

The problem with simplicity is that making something that achieves its purpose in the most simple and efficient way, is usually more complicated and time-consuming, and requires a lot more thought than alternative approaches. I find that if a premium is placed on time, the plan will emerge quickly, but it often comes burdened with unanticipated complexity.

Less is more.

Since I had the good fortune to stumble on it earlier this year, I recommend to anyone who seems to me to have artistic aspects in their life to read Rick Rubin's The Creative Act - A way of being. 

On the topic of simplicity, Rick Rubin, speaking of the thing being created, cites Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, at page 242:

"Refine it to the point where it is stripped bare, in its least decorative form yet still intact. With nothing extra. Sometimes the ornamentation can be of use, often not. Less is generally more. 

"Perfection is finally obtained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there’s no longer anything to take away." [Antoine de Saint Exupéry, Terre des Hommes, ch. III, L’avion, Éditions Gallimard, p. 199 "Il semble que la perfection soit atteinte non quand il n’y a plus rien à ajouter, mais quand il n’y a plus rien à retrancher."]

It's the eve of...

... and there's the rub... the eve of what exactly?

No doubt the eve of a momentous series of events with the only semi-certainty that our world, in just a few hours, will shake, quake, rattle, and roll, as our southern neighbour chooses its fate for the coming four years.

A flood of adjectives comes to mind.

I remember when I was five. We lived in a duplex with radiators and a boiler fuelled by coal; there was a coal bin in the basement.

As I think of adjectives to describe the situation today, I am reminded, quite vividly, of standing in front of the coal bin as my dad shovelled coal into the hot glow of the boiler's open mouth.

Today is like that.

The many adjectives that come to mind are like the hundreds of lumps of black coal in the dim and dark bin. They're all negative; each as inadequate in describing the scene down south, as a single lump of coal in feeding the fire.

And yet I am not overcome with pessimism.

As I read the paper this morning, and as I gaze at the information flowing from my devices, I believe that enough people will do what I would do in a heartbeat when they wield a pencil to cast their choice for the coming years, motivated by reason, fairness, integrity, compassion, and hope.

We'll see.

{48 hours later}

I see that I was wrong. There were not enough people. I'll leave it there, look away, turn my back and hope for the best.

{98 days later} 

Canada is literally under attack by the United States of America led by a president who is easily the most dumb, despicable, unethical, untrustworthy, disgusting person on the continent. We are not alone. Other nations who believed the U.S. to be their ally are either under attack, or bracing for an attack. How stupid is this? We have no choice but to fend off the assault by uniting and taking every step possible to return the favour. I will not travel to the States even though I have good friends there, and we have family there; I no longer buy anything that comes from the U.S.; and I will vote in the upcoming elections in Canada for leaders who will be best at facing this unexpected enemy with intelligence, integrity, courage, and conviction. It is what it is. Canadians need to shift the focus away from the U.S., turn our backs, and look elsewhere for allies we can trust.

Another milestone

I am a huge fan of spreadsheets.

It all started back in the dawn of my law practice when I realized computers were the key to the future. Shortly after buying my first computer, I discovered the magic of spreadsheets, and I have used them to solve some of the most daunting challenges ever since.

For the last few years, after reading James Clear's brilliant Atomic Habits, I started a spreadsheet that tracks my daily habits. It's amazing what you can do on the road to continuous improvement when you pay attention to the things you do every day by tracking them.

As I logged the 9.11 kilometre bike ride I took yesterday morning at the crack of dawn, I realized that I had officially reached just over 3,500 kilometres on my Brompton wonder bike. 

It's not a big deal. I mean, many who will read this will find it a puny accomplishment. And to be honest it doesn't feel like a big deal to me either... but still... THREE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED KILOMETRES!! 

Art and music

Susan and I share an appreciation for art.

We only end up buying the works that speak to both of us.

Our tastes are not identical, but we do agree on general aspects that allow us to coalesce on a purchase now and them. For instance, we tend to prefer abstract to figurative art, and we lean towards abstract art with a figurative element. Imagine an abstract rendering of flowers. Looking at the work, you see the flowers, but the element of abstraction means that the rendering is far from what you might call photographic.

In Amsterdam we wandered into a little gallery called Carré d'artistes. It only took twenty minutes or so for us to settle on a work by Christian Raffin entitled Bien être, depicting a couple cycling, but in the abstract style that we love.

When we are in a gallery looking at art, we are often asked about where we plan to hang the painting in our home. Invariably we each say that considerations like that never play into our purchases. We buy a work that we like, that speaks to us. Finding where to hang it can take time, and trial and error.

This work is no exception. We tried two or three spots until it found its way to its new home.

When it first settled into that spot, I sat opposite the wall where the painting sits, and I had a silent conversation with the work. I see our relationship in the colours, the movement, and the artistic language the painting speaks. It speaks of the love Susan and I share for each other, of our love of our travel adventures, and of our fledgling love affair with our Brompton bicycles.

The imaginary conversation was drifting along assisted by the melodies and lyrics of one my favourite playlists that I call French by English. 

I feel that if you are to have a little bit of a chance of coming to a fair understanding of the conversation I was having, of the relationship of that little painting to its new home and to our shared love of each other, and our art, I had to find a way to share that playlist. 

I can't actually play it for you, but, with quite a bit of fiddling between Apple Music, Microsoft Excel, and Blogger, I have managed to share the content of the playlist with you.

  

Song title	Artist	Album name
C'Est Si Bon	Abbey Lincoln	Paris For Lovers
Quand le soleil dit bonjour aux montagnes	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Petit matin	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Chez moi	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Des croissants de soleil	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
C'est si bon	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Ces bottes sont faites pour marcher	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
La plus belle pour aller danser	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
La belle dame sans regret	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
T'es pas un autre	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Jardin d'hiver	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Seule ce soir	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Les yeux ouverts	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Comme je crie comme je chante	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
C'est merveilleux	Emilie-Claire Barlow	Seule ce soir
Le Premier Bonheur du Jour	Halie Loren	Simply Love
Dream a Little Dream of Me (Les Yeux Ouverts)	Halie Loren	Simply Love
Les Eaux De Mars	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Raconte-Moi.	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
L'étang	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Mi Amor	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
T'es Pas Un Autre	Emilie-Claire Barlow	The Beat Goes On
Petite fleur	Jill Barber	Chansons
J'attendrai	Jill Barber	Chansons
Mélancolie	Jill Barber	Chansons
La javanaise	Jill Barber	Chansons
Sous le ciel de paris	Jill Barber	Chansons
En septembre sous la pluie	Jill Barber	Chansons
Je cherche un homme	Jill Barber	Chansons
N'oublie jamais	Jill Barber	Chansons
Quand les hommes vivront d'amour	Jill Barber	Chansons
Les feuilles mortes	Jill Barber	Chansons
Plus bleu que tes yeux	Jill Barber	Chansons
Adieu foulards	Jill Barber	Chansons
Ces Petits Riens	Stacey Kent	Breakfast On The Morning Tram
La Saison Des Pluies	Stacey Kent	Breakfast On The Morning Tram
Jardin D'hiver	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
La Vénus Du Mélo	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Au Coin Du Monde	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
C'est Le Printemps	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Sait-On Jamais?	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi
Les Vacances Au Bord De La Mer	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Le Mal De Vivre	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Désuets	Stacey Kent	Raconte-Moi.
Give Him The Ooh-La-La: Plus Je T’Embrasse	Blossom Dearie	Four Classic Albums Plus
La Mer	Avalon Jazz Band	Avalon Jazz Group
I Wanna Be Like You	The Hot Sardines	Jazz Loves Disney
Medley: Comes Love (L'amour S'en Fout)	The Hot Sardines	French Fries & Champagne
La Fille Aux Cheveux Roux (Weed Smoker’s Dream)	The Hot Sardines	French Fries & Champagne
Petite Fleur	The Hot Sardines	Wake Up In Paris - EP
C'est Si Bon	Eartha Kitt	The Very Best of Jazz 50 Unforgettable Tracks
Chez Moi (feat. Kim Richardson)	Fuat Tuaç	Chez Moi

I love these songs so much, each and every one of them. If there is one thing that this collection evokes in me, it's my love of Paris.

I can only offer you one among the many to actually listen to, and it has to be C'est Is Bon performed by Eartha Kitt. It never fails to make me smile. Make sure you listen until the very end when Eartha ad libs musing about what she thinks is tellement bon... that's when she makes me smile. 

 

A milestone

Today I took a bike ride that has eluded me for more than a year. The last time I did this ride was on August 31 of last year.

I overworked my right leg on that ride last year, stupidly forcing my way up a hill. I posted it about it here and here,

It has taken X-Rays, ultra-sounds, two talented physiotherapists, and some acupuncture, including dry-needling. The pain and constant discomfort, difficulty handling stairs, discomfort and pain driving or even just traveling in cars, and all the associated angst, has been an ordeal. There were times when I honestly thought I was never going to return to what I thought was normal.

And yet, I am almost, almost there. This morning was the first time I considered tackling that longer ride. Nine+ kilometres is certainly not that crazy, but in my situation up until recently it was unthinkable. Until today.

Our recent trip to Amsterdam and Copenhagen with long walks, contributed to the recovery. I was concerned it would set me back. Thankfully it did the reverse.

I recently read an article by Danielle Friedman in the New York Times published on May 14th of this year entitled "Muscles in Knots? Here’s How to Loosen Them Up", that described perfectly the challenges I was having, as well as paths to a cure, including the dry needling that has worked wonders.

Riding a bicycle is a great way to exercise. The reason is that the nature of pedalling and its circular motion avoids the kind of joint and soft tissue stress that other forms of exercise may lead to. That said, the nature of the cranking motion, when you overdo it, and over-stress your leg as I did, magnifies and multiplies the damage, impacting, in my case, pretty much every muscle and tendon in my right leg.

Treating the resulting cold-spaghetti-mess of angry tissue is a huge challenge. Everything hurts. Diagnosing the injuries and treating them is a significant challenge. You treat one, and anger another. And the work and therapy goes on, and on, and on.

The good news is that progress happens. Eventually, as some issues are resolved, it becomes easier to diagnose and treat the remainder.

And that brings us to today. I am so close to a complete recovery I can taste it.

I take pictures on my morning rides when I see something worth saving. I had to take a photo today.

I feel like an island of normal is emerging from a year-long fog of misery.

Brompton DIY hub cleaners

I have never been a workshop kind of guy. I would say I am more of a MacGyver kind of kind of guy.

My office is 95% devoted to reading and writing of one variety or another and that's what it looks like. That said, the other 5% is devoted to puttering and MacGyvering.

For almost as long as I have owned my Brompton bike, I have wanted hub cleaners. So far I haven't bought any. That's because the Brompton's small wheels won't accommodate the usual leather strap hub cleaners. The spokes will prevent them from working properly.

That means it's a challenge for MacGyver-me.

My first attempt used a leather lace looped around the hub with a bolt sewn to the lace loop to provide a target for the forces of gravity. It was not by any means attractive, and it kind-of worked. It worked really well on the front hub, but the one on the rear hub would occasionally get caught in the spokes, and I would have to stop when I heard the clicking, release the bolt from the spokes, and carry on. It was annoying. Ultimately I sliced it off. That was some time last year.

I happened to be at our mechanic's workshop picking up our car. On the window sill there was a leather strap that looked like it might do the trick. I asked if I could have it.

When I got home it turned out that the strap was too short. I tossed it into a plastic bag in my office cabinet where I store odds and ends. I have an impressive collection of odds and ends. I collect all kinds of stuff that might eventually be useful. Like when I discard a torn shopping bag, I cut off and keep the straps. Same goes for plastic buckles from backpacks, strapping, plastic cinch-things, and the list goes on, and on. Same goes for screws, nuts, bolts, washers... you get the idea. My collection is such that I know from experience that I have the right hardware for almost any little fix-it.

That leather strap I got from our mechanic was held together by a gold-coloured stub-thingy, like the fastener on some purses. It was a screw-on type. I picked up a set of 15 on Amazon for $10, and as soon as they were delivered, I went to the odds and ends collection.

I found some black straps. They were too light for the project but they had a channel on each side. I thought "... if I had some little ball-bearings I could fill the channels...". As soon as I thought of ball-bearings, I remembered that among the odds and ends were the curtain ball-bearing-esque chains that I rescued from curtains we discarded. Wonderful, they fit the channels perfectly and provided the weight that was needed.

The rest was scribbling out a plan in my notebook...

...measuring the Brompton hub diameters with my Vernier caliber, doing the math to get to the circumference, cutting some paper strips based on my guess for the straps, taping the strips on the hubs as a test, deducting some length to get to the right length...

Hub cleaner math

Front hub radius 27/32”

Front hub diameter 1  21/32” 1.65625”

Front hub circumference 5.21”

Front hub cleaner test length 7”

Front hub post test length 6”

Front hub total length including 1 inch for double clasps 7”

Rear hub radius 1 6/32”

Rear hub diameter 2 6/16” 2.375

Rear hub circumference 7.47”

Rear hub cleaner test length 10”

Rear hub post test length 9 1/2”

Rear hub total length including 1 inch for double clasps 101/2”

... cutting the straps and the ball-bearing chains to the right lengths, threading the chains into the channels in the straps, burning holes for the studs with my little battery-powered soldering iron, putting it all together, sewing the channels on each end of the straps to prevent the chains from escaping, fitting the straps to the Brompton, and there you have it... TADAH!!    

It was fun in a weird way. We'll see how they perform in actual use.

Oh... and by-the-way... despite appearances, I'm a lawyer, not a doctor. It just so happens that over time I have collected things like a clamp, a scalpel, a dentist's pick... I love those tools.

--------------------------

ed. 20241019: The rear one is too small, and the weight is too well distributed so it doesn't stay put, but rotates with the hub so it doesn't actually do the job. That one is for sure a do over. What I really need are more traditional leather straps. 

ed.  20241101: I bought a half-inch wide 72 inch long leather strap on Amazon. I used the same little gold-coloured stub-thingies to fasten the ends of the straps, one for each strap. It turned out that 7 inches for the front hub was fine, while 12 inches for the rear hub works well. The only tweak needed was to insert a little brass nut where the two ends meet for the rear hub cleaner to give it a little bit more weight. Now I have fully functioning hub cleaners front and rear.