I miss my bike...Dear Father Christmas (I'm South African, that's what we say): if you exist, could I please have a bike? A vintage bike. Preferably with no gears and brakes in the pedal. And a basket. For my onions.
I rarely travel home at rush hour. My usual ride-time is 6 or 7pm by which time the crowds have thinned considerably. This, soon after 5 o'clock, looks considerably more civilized than it felt. All we needed was the addition of salt and olive oil.