Trusty and I are like Romeo and Juliet this week, kept apart by forces beyond our control. No snow this time, but trips out of the capital, loads too large for panniers and, I confess, more than a usual number of alcohol suffused social engagements. I cycled to work last Friday and haven't cycled home since. The final straw came yesterday when, at the end of a long, brain aching day I skipped out of the office, all ready for a reinvigorating cycle home and realised I'd forgotten my lights. I stood, gazing at Trusty's shiny flanks, weighing up whether riding home lightless was only mildly foolhardy, or, in fact, suicidal. Reluctantly I decided on the latter. I hung my head and walked away to join the muttering, shoving throng at the entrance to the tube, leaving him alone in the bike park once again.
Tonight is our night though. Nothing will stop us. I've got lights, I've got batteries, I've not get that much to carry and not a drop of booze will touch my lips, despite a Christmas lunch. I am as excited as for a first date. Hold on Trusty, I'm coming.