I fortunately don't commute most days, other than up and down the stairs, but every now and again the mothership calls and after The Incident no one uses the teleport to beam up. Cycling door-to-door usually takes 75-80 minutes in comparison (though I won't cycle down the A22 because I'm in no hurry to be dead). The long train journey means the average speed of the train is below 20 mph.
The irony was today, given that I still had to cycle from London Bridge to Knightsbridge after I'd got off the train, the better part of 25 minutes, it would have been a lot quicker to cycle all the way. I cycled home though, which was pleasing. More so because some younger and fully kitted out roadie chap tried to overtake me on the steep hill. And failed. He sort of got level then turned a weird puce colour and made a noise like a flatulent pitbull that had just swallowed a balloon and then been dropped off a tall building onto a concrete driveway. The best bit was that I wasn't even trying to win, I was just trying to survive the upward trawl.
As that was unranty, I'll rant some more. Trackstanding cyclists. I know, there you are, balancing. Forward, backward, there a wiggle, everywhere a wiggle. Look at my ninja skills, I'm so cool. Etc. A correction: it just makes you look like a dick (and for the record, I've never seen a female cyclist do it, so dick is apposite). Just put your fucking foot down like a normal person. Also, eventually, you're bound to fall over and everyone will laugh at you and quite probably drive over your head. Which is definitively uncool.
