Of Sustrans, pubs and postcards

on Sep 17 in Random tagged by Peter Blackman

On Saturday, along with some friends,  I did the Sustrans Cheddar Adventure. 58 miles of multi-terrain mountain biking. It was great. The pictures took a week to be developed. Yes - that’s right. Developed. As I fall off a lot in the course of an offroad cycle, I was forbidden to take the digital camera. I wanted to take some decent shots of the day, so I thought, ‘Aha, I will load in a film and take my old SLR’. Which is what I did - and shot a reel of film. However, thanks to work and what not, it took a week to get them to the developers.

You can view all the pictures -  and read more about the ride over on the Double Art blog .

Better blogs than this one have already covered the subject of our immediate, demanding, ‘real time’ culture. Where we offer a photographic record or comment on social media contemporaneously with our actual enjoyment of an event. Taking photos on an old SLR doesn’t allow you to do this.

I was musing on this, telling fellow team members that they would have to wait for the photos, in the pub after the ride. Not impressed by my real time social media commentary, I was told to go to the bar.

The pub was an old fashioned, quiet establishment. Traditionally furnished with a variety of old men, horse brasses, hunting prints, sports memorabilia, and slightly more unusual - vintage Smirnoff posters like this one:

At the bar I was ordering my drinks when I noticed some other traditional items of pub decoration which have been devastated by our immediate, real time social media culture. The saucy postcard sent by a regular from their holidays. Time was when every pub in the land would decorate their bar with these postcards. Sent by the red eyed, balding and gutted regulars from their two week break from bar stool residency. Postcards of improbably attractive exotic women. Sent by men to men. With amusing accompanying scribbles…

‘Dear Geoff. Having a great time. Hot! Having to drink a lot. Beer’s a lot cheaper here mind. And, as you can see, the regulars are a bit more attractive than in the ‘Oak. Might stay forever. Brian. p.s only kidding. See you Thursday.”

It’s clearly a good thing that there has been a downturn in the exploitative postcard market. Having said that - it’s gone online. Brian is now in a bar in Thailand, e mailing Geoff as ping pong balls fly around his ears and he is promised love for the long time. Brian then comes home with his new wife, Chao-fa, who after a brief period of docility and obediance, rules the roost and the purse. Brian no longer gets to go to the pub every night. Geoff polishes glasses until The Oak goes out of business, and he has to retrain as a classroom assistant. Geoff and Chao-fa have a son, Connor, who grows up to launch a digital pornographic postcard business.

Connor doesn’t drink.

Progress. Of sorts.