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@Eejit
Through a combination of knackered knees, my bikes being in storage and a general lack of mojo I haven't cycled anywhere in London for months. Yesterday, was at my storage unit, the sun was shining outside and I needed to make a journey to a friend's house. So out came a bike and off I went.
One measly fourteen mile round trip couldn't pass without a bunch of assholes. On the way there, I had some fuck in a minicab get right up behind me, horn blaring as I went through a series of pinch points in primary. On the way back some fuck in a black cab undertook me with inches to spare for having the temerity to be in the right hand lane, because, you know, I needed to turn right and all. And these were just the really notable ones. The slew of people passing too close but not so close it makes you shit your pants becomes a blur.
What's equally disappointing is my reaction to it all. You'd think with months off the road, the festering frustration and hatred might've subsided a little. But no, after giving minicab fuck the middle finger and the universally recognised hand signal for being a wanker, it took all my willpower to not chase him down to the next set of lights and give him a cunty earful through his fucking window. Same for the black cab. Which is bad, because life would probably be better if I wasn't a seething ball of rage.
That said, the rest of my journey was great fun and I had a great time doing sick skidz down Ferme Park Road at midnight. All's well that ends well, I suppose?