Washing the bike after our monsoon endeavours, I realised that the chain was baggier than an old lady’s underpants, and would probably ping off the sprox if I didn’t get it sorted before heading to Scotland for a few landmarks more. Adjusting the chain is one of those jobs that I know how to do in theory but don’t dare take my spanners to, on the grounds that if I get it wrong my back wheel will fall off. I developed a cunning plan that made it essential for me to ride to work before stopping at Metropolis on the way home for them to do my dirty work.
Riding to work means it’s time to play the parking lottery – made more hazardous by the decision of a film crew to set up on the spaces I had in mind for trying first, but my third-choice spot came good with a broad sweep of tarmac sullied only by two scooters. Within 30 seconds a horde of suit-clad scooterdrones appeared like wasps round pimms to fence me in on all sides – for once my timing was perfect!
Sadly riding home was not perfect, I hate it when I ride like a muppet. 10 years of practice and I’m still emergency braking to avoid the back of the cement lorry, bullseyeing every pothole and rolling off the throttle mid-bend. I thought experience was meant to bring expertise 😦
At least the chain was smooth.