Page 27 - PBCOctober2016

Pickwick Bicycle Club Magazine Volume 13 No.2 October 2016 27

I’ve received a letter from a former Club member about a former (now deceased) Club
member - The Late Mr. Bardell Dec 1970- July 2009. It made for interesting reading so I
have included it here.

The Late Mr. Bardell, (aka Alan Mepham), wasn't just a cyclist,
but indeed a man extraordinaire. Single and bloody minded, he was
passionate about cycling, cyclists and nature. Never happier than
when he was up the road and over the hills on his Holdsworth, later
a Roy Thame (aka Don Bolaro Fizgig). His cycling, rudely interrupted
by hostilities between 1939 – 1948, began with his father’s
encouragement when old enough to balance on two wheels. It
continued until a few months before his death in 1990, aged 86.
Countless ‘000s of miles, countless friends and an encyclopedic
knowledge of off-road routes, tracks, lanes and by-ways. Convivial
and generous in both material ways and of his time, but always
modest and unassuming. A great storyteller, his ‘Tales from the 8th
Army’ would make libertarians spin in their graves. ‘It’s a poor
soldier who can’t stand his comrades breath’ he would murmur as he stood out of his saddle,
stamped on his pedals, f..ted and shot off up a 1 in 6, leaving the rest of us in the Ixion
Road Club in his wake. He was a patriotic and knowledgeable countryman through and
through; a true gentleman and a great bloke. The Master.

A member of ‘The Pickwick’ for 39 years, regularly attending the Club luncheons,
especially the December Garden Party every year; He wore the racing vest of the National
Clarion; he was a member of The Pedal Club and also the Rough Stuff Fellowship. He served
the latter as Route Librarian for 36 years, holding the offices of Chairman for 24 years
and President for 6 years. In between his cycling responsibilities, not that he saw them as
such; he enjoyed the fresh air, the beautiful English countryside and the camaraderie of
like-minded souls. He was the most unlikely tax gatherer ever employed by the
Commissioners of the Board of Inland Revenue.

Everyone who knew him, who had the honour, nay pleasure, of riding with him, regarded
with awe his eating capacity. It was supra-international class. On two occasions in the
Connaught Rooms when there was an empty seat at the table, he obliged the chef by eating
both his and the absent member’s dinner without the waiter being aware. On returning
home, he would demolish a four course dinner accompanied by 4 or 5 fellow Pickwickians,