Squeezed

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I know food porn’s a cheap shot, but this delicious breakfast symbolises everything I love about Sundays.

I went to Ben’s in the morning, drank coffee, laughed at stuff and got a sneak preview of the forthcoming Down I Go album, which sounds absurdly good.

I also relieved him of a bicycle, and set off for Rotherhithe in an advanced state of apprehension, this being the first time I’ve ridden a bike in 14 years. I used to be extremely athletic. Living in a village near Birmingham, I did most of my two-wheeled travelling at breakneck speed in woodlands and on canal paths. Crossing the A2 on a push-bike in south-east London was a new experience for me.

It wasn’t so scary. I realised that if you cycle in London, you’re generally going faster than the motor traffic, so you just have to watch out for getting squeezed and assert yourself. Relief.

Thanks to adrenaline, I chocked it from Greenwich to Rotherhithe in 25 minutes, but saw spots in front of my eyes for a good half hour afterwards. Hey, the last time my brain was in charge of riding a bike, I was young and fit! It’ll learn…

I spent the rest of the day dossing about with Vonnegut, experiencing rainbows in close proximity, drinking Leffe and playing Tony. Can you spell stereotype?

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One Response to Squeezed

  1. Mckinley says:

    You ARE Larry David.

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