Pink bikes and torrential rain

Yesterday I met the Princess. She's a Pashley Poppy in blush pink and was bought recently by CC.

She's gorgeous and, when I had a go, was surprisingly comfy to ride. I love Reg and Roger but I have to admit that I was envious as CC and Princess wound their way up to High Street Ken. She got many an admiring look and CC said that she was mightily fussed over in the shop when she picked her up. Reg got leaned against a counter and I had to beg for assistance. Sigh.

Then after work I got completely soaked. It was a downpour of biblical proportions that lasted all the way from Hammersmith to Ealing. Thank God for waterproof panniers. I threw on my jacket and pedalled on but then the sun came out and was scorchingly hot meaning I had to pack up my wet jacket and brave the now slick streets that the suns rays had turned to a blinding gold colour. Not only that but then the wind started in my face.

I got to my parents' and had to change my socks but my shoes were so wet that it made bugger all difference. They're at home drying today.

I often wonder why the proportion of female cyclists is so low. I mean, it's just so damn glamorous.