Tarred

I know people will just assume that I'm a fair weather cyclist.

Back on the bike today after a fairly rigorous workout over the weekend and of course the weather is drop-dead gorgeous. There really is nothing to beat riding through London on a sunny morning - even if Boris is in charge. Anyway, why should I worry? I've earned my cap badge after cycling throughout the entire year when I was working in Hammersmith. So - na na na na na na!

Spent a day in Southend yesterday - the first time I've visited the place - and it was a very pleasant day indeed, though I don't think I've ever seen so many Hammers tattoos (and you can be sure that a lot of those geezers are going to be sore today, after a long afternoon supping Fosters along the esplanade - the sun bouncing off their shiny pates) in my life. Though the presence of large numbers of Man United tops may help to explain the dire performance of the Irons over the weekend. Capitulation is the only word for it.

It's an interesting journey from Fenchurch Street on the Shoeburyness service, similar to the West Midlands conurbation in that human habitation hardly seems to relent, apart from a stretch (I think) just after Basildon with huge fields of rape and the odd herd of cows or horses. Then you come to the estuarine verges of the Thames. The tide was out as we approached, so the boats were all sticking out of the mud like so many kids' toys, and the odd bark could be glimpsed on the shimmering water far away. For me it evoked the South China Sea.