Oh God the sweat.
'Hurrah it's sunny!' shout non-cyclists everywhere, as we normal people pull out dark clothing that hides sweat patches and the extra strength deodorant.
Every two minutes you're wiping away the sweat 'tache and praying no one you know will see you. You start out wearing the jacket because it's overcast and a bit chilly, but you take it off halfway because you're baking only to freeze for the next mile as the 'gentle breeze' sweeps through your sodden t-shirt. Then you're puffing and red-faced and even after a cool shower you radiate heat at your desk and the waves of wetness keep creeping up your neck. Sexy. And it's only April.
In an entirely unrelated rant, where are your helmets people?! Yes they're a bit silly-looking but, frankly, my sister's never got over hearing a cyclist being hit (yes, hearing, the sounding was his head meeting tarmac) and you'd look even sillier dead.
Oh and those of you who burble on about people not wearing them in the old days and being fine bollocks to you all. My grandfather and his best mate, who are near 80 and have cycled thousands of miles in their cycle histories, both told me separately to buy and wear a helmet as soon as they heard I had a bike. And a year and half later grandad still checks I wear it every time we speak.