For anyone who’s been paying attention, you may have noticed I’ve mentioned ONCE OR TWICE this daft Olympic project I had on the go, last year, the point of which had initially been to find my very own Olympic sport. I didn’t really find one specific sport that I had a natural aptitude for, though I did find a few that I wanted to keep up. The one that seems to have stuck is cycling.
It’s been a bit of a learning curve, dealing with aggressive MAMILs (Middle Aged Men In Lycra), irate taxi drivers and even one red-faced white van driver from Chingford who actually tried to knock me off my bike. But I’m not one to be told and Beyonce (my road bike) and I have become firm friends over the year we’ve spent together, dicing with death on the streets of London.