This morning was the morning of the great Freo Tweed Run. This was an event in which the two hundred or so registered riders would congregate on South Beach in Fremantle wearing their most dapper kit, generally tweed, and after a bout of leisurely chit chat, take a run up to the Fremantle Esplanade. Henceforth we would proceed to X-Wray Café, where, photos would be taken and garlands bestowed upon the nattiest cyclists of the day. Thanks for the photos Neil Wallace.
This morning was one of the most enjoyable mornings Saturday mornings I’ve had in some time. After a very late night at Kulcha the previous evening, I pulled myself out of bed, showered, and donned my linen suit, and boater-esque hat. The silk pochette that I neatly folded and placed in the breast pocket of my bespoke linen suit jacket had been hand delivered by my friend Jess Berry the previous day as a gift, direct from Jim Thompson’s in Bangkok.
That’s my friend Alice doing some impromptu lindey hop. My friend James Clarkson had retrofitted his large cargo bike to carry a car stereo and battery well hidden within an old suitcase. I had prepared a playlist that went from twenties jazz to lilting Haydn, with a bit of Hugh Laurie singing Jeeves and Wooster thrown in for good measure. With Nagasaki playing you can see why they’re dancing.
There were plenty of friends about the place, everybody looking greatly pleased with themselves and the general state of things in the world. What a perfect way to begin the weekend.
I interviewed one of the organizers of the event, Lachy Bridie. You can hear that interview, as well as plenty of errant chin wagging from the day on an upcoming episode of Understorey on RTR 92.1 FM (11.30am 1 December). As you’ll see from my chat with Lachy, there is more to all this than a love of well pressed trousers (visit www.dismantle.org.au for a taster).
And then for the run… along the ocean and into Fremantle.
The sound of Minnie the Moocher and other classics of the pre-war era followed us thanks to the design efforts of James Clarkson, efforts for which he was later awarded a $150 voucher.
Is that a tweed flask I see?
We adjourned to X-Wray. I asked the young lady at the counter for a couple of her establishment’s finest ales. She looked nonplussed. We settled down with some clearly specified Rogers. Somebody raised a toast to Stephen Fry.
For now I salute you all my fellow cyclists and propose another toast: to taking back Fremantle from cars and turning every day into a Freo Tweed Run.
