This morning I accompanied The Babe to work. We left home at about ten past seven, and got to Clapham North a few minutes after. We then branched right for Kennington and then left up toward Westminster Bridge. We turned in to Kennington Road at about 7.30.
Last year I was struck by the number of cyclists on the commute, and thought that cycles outnumbered private cars. This morning the number of cyclists going up Kennington Road was extraordinary. I'd say that there were fifteen of us waiting at the red light at Kennington Cross, and maybe six cars. But, then again, that might have been a one-off, an early morning blip.
Having seen the love of my life to her office, I rode home at a gentle pace from Islington. I'd have reached the middle of Kennington Lane at about 8.15. And, coming the other way - well, it looked like a club run. I stopped. Counted 33 cyclists in one bunch, released by the green light at Kennington Cross. And not one private car. Not one.
Forty years I've cycled in London. Forty years. It's like the Promised Land. I considered getting off the bike and kneeling in prayer. God Bless the Bicycle, and All Who Ride!
Last year I was struck by the number of cyclists on the commute, and thought that cycles outnumbered private cars. This morning the number of cyclists going up Kennington Road was extraordinary. I'd say that there were fifteen of us waiting at the red light at Kennington Cross, and maybe six cars. But, then again, that might have been a one-off, an early morning blip.
Having seen the love of my life to her office, I rode home at a gentle pace from Islington. I'd have reached the middle of Kennington Lane at about 8.15. And, coming the other way - well, it looked like a club run. I stopped. Counted 33 cyclists in one bunch, released by the green light at Kennington Cross. And not one private car. Not one.
Forty years I've cycled in London. Forty years. It's like the Promised Land. I considered getting off the bike and kneeling in prayer. God Bless the Bicycle, and All Who Ride!