WE WERE walking near Spitalfields Market in East London when our path was blocked by a cavalcade of hundreds of tweed-clad cyclists. They weren’t just wearing tweed jackets, but the full 1920s monty: deerstalker hats, trousers tucked into long socks with shiny brogues.

Some sported Sherlock Holmes pipes and most had managed to find a vintage bicycle to complete the look: beautiful black 1930s Pashleys and 1940s Raleighs in British racing green livery with gold leaf trim. The sight transformed my day.

We had witnessed the first Tweed Run (tweedrun.com). That was only 18 months ago, and the regular London rides are now so popular that the 500 places for last month’s run were taken within half an hour.

When Cycle Oxford (cycleoxford.coop) announced Oxford’s very own Tweed Run, I rushed to sort out my outfit. I couldn’t muster a tweed jacket (I don’t know anyone quite that trad) but I feel I made up in other areas. I wore my dark green waxed cotton flat cap and a linen dinner jacket over a frilled white dress shirt. My trusty Brooks messenger bag, also in dark green waxed cotton with leather trim, looked just the part and drew several admiring (read: jealous) comments.

I rather let the side down on the bicycle front. A green 1950s sit-up-and-beg Raleigh has been languishing in my back garden for a year waiting to be restored, so I had to choose from a more modern fleet.

My wife’s Dutch Gazelle recommended itself on the styling front but let itself down with the naff grey and blue paintwork. (Note to self: respray the Gazelle black!) The Brompton is quirky enough but it reminded me too much of the Brompton races, when you have to dress up in a business suit to race around the park at Blenheim Palace. In the end I opted for my sleek black Specialized racer, which was at least the right colour to fit in.

I arrived late (as usual) to find a throng of distinctively tweeded cyclists milling around outside the Vaults.

Among the 40 participants there were four tandems, a few kids in trailers and some tagalongs, as well as a few era-appropriate bikes.

The merry band set off on a circuitous hour-long tour of the city centre, drawing gasps as tourists and locals alike reached for their cameraphones.

I fell in with the best-dressed couple. They were from London, had done the April run, and had decided to do the Oxford run as a pleasant day out seeing the city.

Mostly I rode alongside Stuart, the owner of Warlands, and his wife. They had got the dress code right and their folding Moultons were easily weird enough to fit the bill.

As the tweedists rolled amiably through the city, Stuart and I put the world to rights – Oxford was one of 10 locations in the UK that voted Yes to the Alternative Vote – why was the rest of the county so Neanderthal?

Oxford was at the forefront of innovation in cycle provision in the 1980s – why have the councils let it fall so far behind?

Before we knew it, our cavalcade had arrived in Florence Park.

The ride leader, Dan Harris of Cycle Oxford, produced a gas stove and giant kettle from his trailers and served tea and scones. A perfect end to a fun way of enjoying the city on two wheels.

I missed the other Cycle Oxford Festival events last week – Scrabble on Bikes was the one I most wanted to get to. Cycle Oxford’s mission is find all sorts of ways to entice Oxford residents out on their bikes, so I’ll let you know when next year’s festival is announced.