Sunday's London Freewheel

Alright I did it, I finally did it. I mounted my little brother's bike and went on Sunday's London Freewheel. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, birds would have chorused and bees hummed merrily, if we had not been in London.

Flora, a seasoned cyclist, came along to demonstrate how to pedal, use handlebars as steering mechanisms and how to master the art of raising one limb from the handlebars to signal without losing balance and ending up dead in some grey and dismal gutter. It was fun. It was genuine old fashioned fun. The kind of fun you used to have when you strayed into quasi-consciousness just after reading an Enid Blyton book on an English summer holiday and for a few endless moments could have summed up you socio-political outlook on the theory of jam.

We cycled along a few streets that were still full of cars which I had previously believed homicidal metal vehicles. The cars took notice when you indicated. Never having learned to drive I felt a part of the bustling activity of the roads. Then we free wheeled onto the car free roads along the river and had a wonderful time viewing the City's architecture.

The success of the excursion can be summed up by the fact that I am sitting here at my desk in St James's Park on Monday with a slightly sore behind and a bike upstairs ridden from Islington this morning. Most importantly, I have an extra 2 in my pocket to be spent on a classy lunch, I haven't been cattle herded into work on the tube and been asked to pay for the privilege.

Frightening but independent, hard work but exhilarating, risk of certain death but worth not having to pay for the tube or extortionate gym membership all in all, recommended.