Sometimes, going over Battersea Bridge, I find myself trapped behind a slow cyclist (sometimes as part of a train of fellow prisoners), somebody who feels the need to spin slowly over that very modest rise in their lowest gear. This morning, the person in front of me on the slow train was a girl with long ginger hair in very stylish work clothes, including a short tweed skirt, split at the back, and knee-length red leather boots, riding a cream road bike with some elan (where possible in the restricted conditions). Probably the most elegant fellow commuter I've seen in the last year. Oh, and she was riding in the drops, which, well, did things to the outfit described above. Seemed a shame to overtake when we reached the far side, but I don't really do slow cycling.
