Mostafa’s Memoir – Halifax to the House of Commons
12 August 2025
“Mostafa’s Memoir – Halifax to the House of Commons” was first written in Persian, capturing every detail and feeling he remembered from his journey to Westminster for the 10th anniversary of The Big Bike Revival. Originally meant to be a personal memory, it was later translated into English with the help of AI. When asked for feedback from the trip, Mostafa kindly shared his story so we could share it with you.
A Yellow Jersey
This is the story of a journey. Not a long one in distance, but rich in meaning and full of moments that stayed with me like golden sunlight on a quiet afternoon.
I was nominated by St. Augustine’s Centre to receive the famous Yellow Jersey from Cycling UK. Paul kindly filled out the necessary forms for me and shared my story with them, how I arrived in this town last year, and how quickly my love for cycling became clear to him.
Back then, Paul gave me a lovely dark blue road bike, simple, but exactly what I needed. That gesture meant a lot. And that was just the beginning. Cycling UK came, took some photos, and soon after, I was officially given the yellow jersey.
Impressions of London
A few days later, an invitation arrived for the 10th Anniversary Celebration of Cycling UK. And it was in London!
Paul took care of all the planning for our two-person trip. On 9th June, we left Halifax at 10 a.m. and caught our train from Leeds to London at 12:45. We arrived in London around 3 p.m. It was my first time there. The city felt alive, busy, energetic, with clear bike lanes and a sense of order that made cyclists feel safe. I liked it immediately.
We walked about 20 minutes to our hotel. I followed Paul, watching everything around me, trying to take it all in. After checking in, we changed into more suitable clothes for the evening. I brought my yellow pullover, hand-knitted, beautiful. Later, I learned that a group of kind elderly women had knitted it. When I saw their photos during the event, I felt touched and deeply honoured. Knowing how much care had gone into it made it feel even more special.
Before the event, we had time to explore the streets. We took many photos, watched the people and the parks, and bought some souvenirs. At the scheduled time, we arrived at the entrance to the House of Commons in Westminster.
And there, by complete coincidence, we saw Sarah, the same kind woman who had once brought me the yellow jersey. She was walking inside, and we joined her.
Celebrating in the House of Commons
We passed through the security check and entered the impressive building. We took many photos and went up to the visitor gallery, a beautiful spot overlooking the main chamber. From there, we watched the MPs and ministers in formal discussions. I was amazed. Sitting there, I kept thinking, “Am I dreaming?” Even now, writing this, it still feels surreal.
The ceremony itself was warm and welcoming. When I put on my yellow jersey, people came up to me, smiled, congratulated me, and took photos. Though my English is still limited, something else took over—something beyond language. Eye contact, smiles, and genuine interest helped us connect. I managed to speak with several guests, and they spoke with me. It was a kind of human connection that comes from the heart.
I met several women named Sarah that night, four or five, I think. They were kind and friendly. I told them that “Sarah” is a special and popular name in Iran, and that I really liked the name. We laughed, took many more photos, and had great conversations.
Evening in the City
After the official event, we shared some drinks and conversations with new friends. We said our goodbyes warmly.
Everyone left gradually, but Paul and I kept walking the streets, enjoying the city well into the night, past midnight even, talking, laughing, and soaking in the magic of the day.
Later, we had some delicious lamb ribs at the hotel, and finally slept. The next morning, we enjoyed a proper English breakfast, big and satisfying. Then we headed out for one last stroll, took more photos, and made our way to the station.
Honestly, I didn’t want to return. I hope there will be more trips like this. I don’t know how to thank everyone involved, from the kind donors and organisers, to the people who gave their time, energy, and care to make this happen.
So I decided to write this story, as a small gesture of gratitude. I’m sending it to Paul and asking him to kindly share it with those who deserve to be thanked.
Life isn’t always yellow, but some days, some roads, and some people are golden.
Mostafa
