well laid plans

I’ve been through a wide gamut of cycling experiences already in the past weeks since i started coming into work by velopower. This morning was “heavy traffic” and “talking to other cyclists at the traffic lights about said traffic”. Yesterday was “wet ass due to rain earlier in the week” and “roadworks? who cares, cut across the common”. The day before was “night cycling”.

Quite amusing to see everyone on their best behaviour when a police bike stood with us at a junction, although he did manage to tell someone off for riding on the wrong side of the road around a long queue of traffic just south of Moorgate.

Still haven’t managed to be put off (or knocked off) yet.

I’m off to a wedding this weekend in Franch – eurostarring all the way to Lille and then local trains to somewhere near Angers. Looking forward to plenty of food/drink/food and drink, although apparantly we have to be at Waterloo by 8.10am. Even holidays are early starts, although the upside of being able to read – time for which I’ve been robbed of, since starting to ride in.

and again

~40 mins.

Excuse me if I enthuse over my new method of commuting for a few posts – most of the %fish will no doubt say “I told you so”, but bah.. so what, they did and I am, so ner.

There certainly seem to be a large number of cyclists on the roads in the morning, I’m sure somewhat inflated by the July 7/21 attacks, but they truly range from the “basket on front” to the “basketcase”, from sauntering to hammering. This only being my second ride (and first in ‘rush’ hour traffic), I’m still stopping for most red lights, using the road signs to direct me, and generally thinking back to when I was 12 and doing my cycle proficiency – compared to the death dodgers who play some sort of parkour with their bikes, speeding away from me looking on with a glazy mix of fear by proxy and desire. I’m sure at some point I’ll have slightly larger balls and do some hardcore lane changes (although to be fair today, I didn’t ‘go pedestrian’ once).

Bolivia Street Carnival

Slap me on the back, and call me Lance – I cycled in to work today.

Yup – all the way – not just to Kennington and turning around, not just to Borough and seeing a Bolivian Carnival blocking all the traffic and turning around, but all the 8 mile way. Its almost like I did exercise!

I even stopped off a little way into the journey and realigned one of my wheels. Grr. I’m a cyclist.

Excuse me whilst I have a nap.

Word of the day: Knackered.



And back home again. Yay me!

What’s in the bag?

Managed to brave the tube wearing a large rucksack, unshaven, and carry a book teaching me about English without getting stopped, searched or even looked at maniacally by other travellers this morning. A first for liberty.

I feel its time to let you know that my fish have passed on to the larger tank in the sky. Well, just two of them to be pricise. Dido is left swimming along in her tank, she seems a little more frisky now – whether this is from having more room to stretch her metaphorical legs, or some epileptic mourning in which she has decided to hunt around the cube from vertex to vertex in search of her late aquatic partners. In either case, she seems determined to try and find a way out now.

I’m thinking about getting her some new chums, younger additions to the tank – but a little concerned over whether the newly introduced kids would have a bad affect on Dido – somewhat like putting an ASBO detention centre next door to the Breezy Palms Rest Home for the youthfully challenged, and giving everyone a bottle of sherry.