Nocturne Alleys
Saddle-side seats in Cheapside
They don't shut down the circuitous streets of The City for nothing. Some people lament that London isn’t arranged in the grid system of younger cities, but the irregular roads of London’s Square Mile, leftover from the Middle Ages form an ideal track for our capital’s tenth annual series of night time bike races, the London Nocturne. Sponsored by online fashion label, Mr. Porter, the evening comprises of ten events from the slightly silly to the seriously swift. These include a foldable bike course, penny farthing race (which surprised me by falling into the seriously swift category), Boris bike race, and finished by the Elite women’s and men’s criteriums, which chug through Cheapside like a brightly coloured steam train.
The pinnacle for me, however, was the Concours d’Elegance, a thirty-minute promenade made by polite riders dressed to the nines – Lycra is actually banned – astride vintage or hybrid bicycles. There were feathered hats, cigars, tweed, boutonnieres, even four gents in bowlers on tandems and a brave pair of stilettos. From the stands I so longed to join their well-pedalled ranks. The race is won, not by speed, but by courtesy and style. Obstacles included pedestrians glued to their iPhones, traffic lights and a taxi. With cycling a growing phenomenon in our city, and an estimated half million riders on London’s roads each day, the Concours is intended to remind modern English cyclists to not forget their well-mannered roots. For me, as a budding biker, next year’s will be a welcome chance to switch my helmet for a pillbox and my cycling computer for a basket of blooms.
But whether you’re bicycle inclined or not, the London Nocturne is a spectacle. The track is small and the riders are fast. Stake out a spot near Guildhall or Love Lane (unlike similar sporting events the Nocturne is not overcrowded with spectators) and watch the peloton careen precariously around corners, conjuring gusts as they go. Inspired? Try your speed at the stationary training bicycles in the pop-up garden (and reward yourself with a scoop of ricotta and sour cherry ice cream from Gelupo). Get to chat with riders who will represent Britain in next year’s Tour de France, or simply enjoy a rare chance to roam the emptied, twilit heart of London, her summer night air punctuated not by car horns or bus brakes, but bicycle bells and the fluttering whir of spokes.
