Mutch's Diary
The Road's editor
Off to Erith in Kent to photograph a Harley-Davidson V Rod with five Battle of Britain survivors. I can hardly believe my good fortune in meeting these living legends and find the experience utterly surreal. I ride home a bit too quickly, taking curves on the M20 at 80mph and humming the theme to '633 Squadron'.
Less sensationally, I fetch up some days later in the leafy opulence of Camden, just East of Regents Park. I have an appointment with Stephen Plowden, a man credited by some as motorcycling's fiercest enemy. A researcher, statistician and government advisor for several decades, I finally met this celebrated academic recently at the Commons Select hearing, where our new boy David Short was doing his stuff defending the Government Motorcycling Strategy which is pro-motorcycling. Stephen offers me tea from among a cornucopia of eastern options crowding a shelf in the kitchen of his elegant town house. I select a strong smoky brew of Darjeeling which I follow later with a Green Mango that comes recommended by my host's wife. I enjoy an hour and a half chatting with the man demonised by many like err... me for example. I leave with a tape full of discussion and an impression of someone who isn't mad as a hatter as some claim, he just takes a radically different view to us. The question ultimately is, who will get the most votes for their view. More of Mr Plowden's views inside.
A great blast up the M11 before branching off along the uncrowded lanes of Lincolnshire into a chilly evening mist to MAG's Annual Conference in Horncastle. Everything runs pretty smoothly and a vigorous but healthy exchange of views concludes bloodlessly with a dynamic resolve to forge ahead. Seriously - a good positive meeting and thanks to all who made the effort to come and to all in E Lincs MAG for hosting the AGC.
Off to France next for a Harley-Davidson organised bash in ritzy St Tropez. More inside.
To 'The Avenue' restaurant in St James SW1 for a farewell dinner held for the BMF's Trevor Magner who is retiring from the world of political lobbying. Trevor's colourful waistcoats and ghastly puns will be sorely missed in Westminster. On the clothing front however, our own David Short cuts a dash in a brown Fedora, so the tradition of slightly eccentric style in the sphere of motorcycle politics is being maintained.
To Glastonbury next for a wedding. My old mate Richie, a Ducati, Harley and Indian-riding MAG member is tying the knot at the absurdly young age of 50, such haste! I've booked myself into the home of my ex-bearfriend who lives just off the High Road in the mystical town. A fabulous blast down the A303 gets me to the ancient Isle of Avalon where I find an old friend, the Ugly Bug, aka Patrick Faulkner, and his loony girlfriend Roz ensconced at the Bear's cave. It was he who, with one Michael Griffiths, sat down in a living room with myself in 1973 to found a rider's organisation. In fact, it was the Bug who came up with the name MAG. To be fair, Dennis Howard had come up with the same name in a different part of town, where he had held a similar meeting with stalwart Owen Kristiansan and others and the rest, as they say, is history, all catalogued in a book, the name of which escapes me.
Five am and I was tramping up the Tor with a she-bear, its mate Mottie and Ellie the hound, to join a bizarre menagerie of life forms including Richie, who had waxed his moustache to theatrical effect and was wearing a huge felt top hat. Given that some people were clad in shredded gowns and antlers, his appearance excited no comment and I guess I was conspicuous by my tedious normality. If you've never seen the sun rise from Glastonbury Tor, give it a go, it's a truly moving experience. Creation all over again. There was much blowing of horns and banging of drums of course, followed by a bizarre tirade of abuse from a Morrisman, who took great issue with the Bug's mates, the Dolmen, whose leader was decorated with stag horns. Apparently the Morrismen couldn't follow their beat for the banging of the Dolman's drums; shame. I've never seen a man dressed in bells trying to get heavy before, but I'll tell you something, whoever you are, it just don't work. Ever see a bouncer wearing bells? No? Exactly.
The wedding is wonderful and then it's back to the Metropolis before heading North to York. Here I am hosted by our Campaigns Manager at Short Towers, from where I set off in tandem with him and his rather tasty, Ducati Monster-riding, girlfriend Suzy for a plate of Poachers' casserole in a fine Yorkshire pub. Next day, we collect our Chairman from her 'Last of The Summer Wine' idyll and proceed to a Huddersfield meeting with a clever people's agency called Creo. Here I renew an acquaintance with the stunning Heidi and her colleague David, who explain how we can broaden MAG's appeal. It's a bit of an experiment but we need to develop more critical mass if we are to change the world and that is what we intend to do. One thing about MAG these days, it doesn't stand still.
Back home and struggling to finish the magazine, when an invitation to meet Bike magazine's editor arises. Another blast up the M11 and I make Peterborough in an hour and twenty minutes. Editor John Westlake is impressed, but I can tell from his silent arithmetic expression that he doesn't believe me. "I've done London to Peterborough in and hour and a half but that was at a steady 90" he tells me. I, however, live in North East London from where one can access the M11 in ten minutes. Ah ha, cheating eh? We have an excellent meeting with John and a gorgeous girl called Kylie. Bike are coming to the Farmyard, can you believe it? I've written terrible things about the mainstream bike press in the past but at long last they are recognising that MAG is a worthwhile and serious organisation that motorcycling needs, so credit where it's due. The current hands on the tiller are steering a good course so any Fatwah against mainstream titles is lifted and I am happy to tell you that you are now free to buy them all, how about that?
Now then I might sell my Harley soon so I can buy one of the new ones. So if anyone wants to own the best bike I've ever owned, make me a huge offer.
P.S. I seldom ride at over 50mph, I just say I go faster to sound tough.
Ian 'looks after his bike' Mutch
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