The sun was shining and the air was fresh – the perfect day for cycling – but my two-year old grand touring bike (weighing half a ton) was out of action. It had been threatening to seize up for months and Chris had replaced the back inner tube four times, yet it still went flat. Big and beautiful as it was, the old fashioned bike really wasn’t made to survive living in the open air by the seaside, and some time while I was away during the winter the blue “Viking” gave up the ghost and slumped against our railings like a defunct rusty great hulk.

“Let’s go for a drive with the top down,” I suggested.

“Why don’t we go to that bicycle place at Kenn and see what they have?” Chris asked.

We have both been worrying about the Vintage Cycle Event that my brother Robert has organised for Dawlish Heritage Day on Sunday – Chris has been worrying about what he could wear (fancy dress – heritage style) whilst I’ve been concerned about having no bike to ride.

I wasn’t expecting us to drive back home with a new bicycle sticking out of my back seat. Well, actually, it isn’t brand new, which is just as well because I shall be taking it to the Vintage event. I very nearly plumped for the smooth American “comfort” bike (pure quality with a luxurious saddle, slick paintwork and shock absorbers all round) – wonderful to ride but on the heavy side. Instead, remembering our fifty-one steps up to the road, I opted for the silver, step-over, Dawes model – not a stunner but light as a feather.

We weren’t expecting to meet a huge green tractor coming towards us on the narrow country lane… he had no qualms in showing off his prowess at reversing for quarter of a mile and I blew him a kiss at the passing point.

As it turned out, it was a perfect day for cycling; I rode my silver bike home from the car park and managed it easily on my own down to the bottom of the steps. I took a photo of my new acquisition and noticed that the flower pots, neglected since the end of summer, were brimming with new life. The jasmine and clematis needed guiding up the trellis; the weeds had to come out, also the skeletons of dead annuals; the marguerite that hadn’t done so well last year was nearly falling over with the weight of its blooms and needed to be thinned, and the thinned branches just had to be given a chance to survive on their own. It was also a perfect day for spending a couple of hours gardening.

I think I might paint some flowers on my new bike in time for Sunday.