Up the ‘Uts: The Slow Death (and Rebirth?) of the British Cycling Club

This is from a cyclist, born in Liverpool during WW2. I lived very close to Everton FC, and as a child made my pocket money by asking the football supporters “can I mind your bike in my back yard please sir”.
Those were the days when cycling was King of the Road. Sunday was a day of rest for church goers, but not for cyclists’ on Merseyside. In those days of long ago we, as cyclists would be welcomed into many Tea Rooms and permitted to eat our own Butties sitting in the Tea room in front of their warm coal fire. The Parker/Holmes cycling family of Liverpool had 2 triplets, 2 tandems and 3 solo bikes that were used every Sunday through-out the year on very quiet roads. Those were the days when goods were transported mainly by rail, not by roads. The days when we looked forward to YHA holidays and weekend breaks by bicycle. At the age of 16 years, I cycled from Liverpool to London and back in a weekend. Then many years later, cycled to London staying the night in East Dulwich, cycled the London to Brighton Ride the next morning… During 1997, we took our Dawes tandem to Vancouver, and cycled 3,209 miles across America. A wonderful cycling adventure for Barbara at the age of 61 years. You are never to old to CYCLE.