The timeless thrill which kept us fit and lasted miles

There we were the other sunny afternoon, enjoying a fulsome soup at the friendly art-deco café in Blackpool's Stanley Park. My mind, however, was suddenly back in childhood days. I was recalling my first outing on a bicycle.

- by Roy Edmonds

It was one of the many children cycling around in delight who had reminded me. Although tiny and on an equally small, pink bike, she was deftly circling the crowded outside tables where others savoured ice-creams and family meals.

It was on a similar park, called Golden Hill in Urmston near Manchester, where I first successfully bestrode two wheels. I'd sat on the bike - inherited from my older brother-peddling slowly, for half a mile or so from our home. But that had been with Dad holding the back of my saddle while walking. Then as we'd entered the park gates I'd accelerated with his helpful push.