I rode, I survived, I humilated myself on Bostall Hill…again. Nevermind, it was a far more pleasant ride than I expected winding through Martime Greenwich and along the Thames up to Trafalgar Square then up Charing Cross Road.

Today I had a rest. In the sense that I got the train rather than the bike as opposed to taking the day off. On foot as well as on the bike I always go via the Charing Cross Road and so this morning I got to see Ian Hislop who narrowly avoided falling victim to my less attractive trait of pedestrian rage.

As I watched him disappear into Soho, battered briefcase in hand, I reflected that even the famous have to get up and go to work sometimes. Also that he is in fact shorter then me. A man of simple pleasures, it made me feel better.

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