A DOUGHTY CYCLIST.

Press, Volume LXIX, Issue 20878, 10 June 1933, Page 13

A DOUGHTY CYCLIST.

Recollections of an Octogenarian. By I. G. Homevvood. With a preface by G. K. Chesterton. John Murray 287 pp. (10/6 net.) •

When a woman has reached the age of 89 she might reasonably be expected to sit back and take her ease. Mrs Homewood is built of different clay. Having lived a full and interesting life, when approaching her ninetieth year she sets about writing a book about it, and she has succeeded admirably. Hers is an adventurous spirit, which has led her on to journeys accomplished by means of a vehicle honourably regarded in Christchurch—a bicycle. "I have the vanity to suppose," she says, "that I have seen more of the world from the saddle of a bicycle than any other woman cyclist." It is a fair claim. But Mrs Homewood has more claim to local interest than her passion for cycling. She and her husband migrated to New Zealand in 1867, and later took up land in Canterbury near Waipara.< (She may be excused for spelling l it Wiapara in her book, for it is a long time ago.) They lived for several years here, but eventually, when Mrs Homewood fell into 311— health, were compelled to return to England. Later she returned to New Zealand to square up the affairs of her husband, since dead. This was difficult, as a dishonest lawyer had complicated matters. "Christchurch Cathedral," she mentions, "had been built of limestone from our property, but we never received a penny for it." Much of the early part of the book is devoted to Mrs Homewood's experiences as a settler's wife. The author was 50 years of age when cycling came into vogue. She took up the pastime with an enthusiasm that lasted until she was compelled to give it up 30 years 'later. Probably the unconventional life of the early days in this country were responsible for Mrs Homewood's disregard for Victorian, notions of propriety at a time when cycling for women was thought of as a questionable pastime. With her cycle she took long journeys all over the British Isles. Later her wanderlust took her further afield. She travelled alone all over and later still, when she was more than 60 years of age, she covered long distances in the United States. She must have had amazing vitality and physical strength, for she is a small woman. She speaks lightly of journeys of 60 and 70 miles a day. It was an outrage to her pride when she first reached America to be classed for customs purposes as "senile." Mrs Homewood was nearly 70 when she paid her last visit to New Zealand, in 1910. She brought her bicycle with her and cycled from Auckland to Wellington, and afterwards through the South Island as far as the Southern Lakes, where she undertook with other tourists some strenuous mountain climbing. The Great War found her ready for action, and it irked her that the authorities could find no more strenuous work for her than helping in canteens and making shirts, socks, and puddings for soldiers. After the war she again mounted her bicycle and set off for Berlin. In her eightieth year she had to abandon cycling; but she has visited Jamaica. Tangier, Spain, and Portugal. "I still cherish the hope," she says, "of revisiting New Zealand, perhaps by aeroplane: and, speaking of aeroplanes, I feel sure that if flying had been possible in my young days, I should have taken to it, that is, if I could have afforded to do so." After reading Mrs Homewood's book one cannot doubt that regretful statement.