Tell us about your weekend ride

LadySwine and I rode to Windsor yesterday to talk matters of sensitive intelligence with the Queen and balk at the tourist prices, which weren't as funny once we'd paid them ourselves for admittedly good scones in a regally named cream tea missing one constituent part - value. She takes her coffee complicated and I my tea black, which having learned from people far classier than myself is not to say one cannot enjoy a black tea served with milk. I don't understand this. In my simple world black tea is black, due to it containing no milk. Beyond that is a forensic analysis of ordering which turns my tea and mind cold.

Anyway, our ride coincided with a mass of others doing the same thing for charity. We did not know their plans beforehand and I assume the opposite also holds good, unless the sly dogs are snooping on me behind their props of cheery waves and clapped-out bicycles, but those bastards will never take me alive. They had chosen the same route as us too, which proved a help as although I've done this trip before (LadySwine is not only a forrin but also not much more than a (now converted) about-town-dallier, so I couldn't help but scoff on the train back when she referred to our little adventure as a 'tour', but they make them without ambition in Switzerland), we'd relied on taking a series of photos of our route on Google maps on her flashy phone. This kind of thinking's beyond me. There's some advanced creatures wandering this earth - more and more I'm reminded I'm not one of them. Lacking a GPS device I usually prefer to stare at a route online until my eyes see nothing more, then follow it by memory/luck and see how it all shakes down. Flicking through our photos for reference at several junctions while we remained aloof of the spies in our midst made me feel all twenty-first century, and I'm not sure I liked it.

What's beyond dispute is I unintentionally offended somebody in a way I could never have possibly imagined - I've got this down pat nowadays, but I'd trade it in an instant for a useful skill. The charity ride meant volunteers were signalling the way at various points, and naturally we were mistaken for participants on the occasions we'd merged with those entrants who rightly suspect I'm a national traitor. At a set of traffic lights stood a sole volunteer, offering encouragement and directions to everyone who passed. The better half and I came to a stop and humoured his talk while he assumed we were part of the charity ride. What didn't escape my attention was, although inescapably male, he was dressed as a woman. My conclusion - in the spirit of things he's in fancy dress. Good man. Accepting this as fact in my skewed mind I congratulated him, with sincerity, on his outfit. His face dropped and with sincerity to abolish mine, replied that he's a transvestite. I waited for a laugh from him that didn't come. He continued to tell me this is how he's chosen to live his life - I took a glance at the lights. Still red. Nothing for it than to wither away some more.

I looked at LadySwine for help. Wisely she refused my eye, much like I would have done. It's great how we support each other. I had belittled this man's gender struggles with an incidental remark, reducing his right to be who he likes how he pleases while the ignorant world for which I alone spoke views him as being in costume for reasons of parody. An awkward moment indeed. I apologised profusely which he took with good grace, then rode away several inches smaller once the lights had finally put me out of my misery. One day I'll learn to think before I speak. Apart from that it was great but I didn't quaff enough Hoegaarden for my liking once we arrived - if I did I'd still be there now.