bi bitch

For the first time in yonks I rode from sarf Landan to the East End. It’s a dead simple journey -Wandsworth, Vauxhall, Elephant and Castle, London Bridge, City, Shoreditch, Hackney- 5 miles as the crow flies and in theory 20 mins. But the fucking traffic is horrific and the road from E & C to and through the City is gridlock requiring much filtering and stop/starting.

I’ve also discovered that the Black Bitch doesn’t like it at all, she gets all hot and flustered, the oil warning light flickers at tickover which isn’t good. Add this to a collection of minor niggles that require attention, but bearing in mind she’s still in very good order, it’s time for her and I to split up. When the sale of my gaff is completed we’re going to have to go our separate ways, a thought that makes me feel rather sick. If you’re interested feel free to mail me, I’d rather it went to someone I sort of know, however tenuous the link.

I arrived at IC’s in victorious spirit after seeing off a few fellow bikers (the journey had taken 45 mins.) I changed and we went out immediately to meet Ellen in the boozer we’d taken a late lunch in on Sunday. We sat outside in the cool evening drinking wine sensibly and, aware work was due the following day, returned home by 10pm.

This morning I was up and out by 8. IC cycled off in one direction and I shot off in another. As I approached the City I caught up with IC (she can shortcut the journey, I can’t) and we had a race through the traffic, which was virtually at a stand still. I can confirm it’s faster to cycle through Broadgate than it is to motorcycle. This explains the vast hoards of cyclists, most of whom have a good idea of what they’re doing but the cunts that don’t are fucking unbelievable. One far arsed bint (clearly not a regular of the Derailleur) managed to prevent dozens of vehicles passage on account of not understanding what a green filter means. I gave her a mouthful, of course.

Once clear of London Bridge things started to improve, more motorcycles appeared and within minutes a competition of speed and prowess got underway. I think this fact alone is an incentive for a new generation of city bikers. Boris Johnston should instigate a campaign simply sloganed ‘it’s a fucking race, ace,’ featuring a picture of me doing a one handed jump over a frigging bus, or something. I arrived at work after much shouting and gesturing though shaking with exhilaration. It’s been many years since I despatched for a living and I’d forgotten what frustrating fun it all is. I’d better get used to it too as soon this will be a regular commute, just not on the BB, sadly.