Women's cycle clothing... it's rubbish.

The Ride to Work voucher has arrived!

I am shopping furiously and working out the exciting new bits and bobs I will get. What depresses me, though is the dearth of women's clothing.

Yes, there is some but, on Wiggle for example, I was idly browsing clipless shoes (purely for giggles, obviously) and 84 options came up for men, in comparison to around 20 for women. In addition, while I love pink and wear it with abandon, not every woman does so why is it THE colour to denote the clothing was aimed at women?

And when it comes to sizes, are the designers aware that women have breasts? I'm a strapping size 16, so I expect to wear XL in sports wear, but even a size 18 in Muddy Fox stuff can't get over my boobs comfortably. Yes, I have boobs, that's why I picked a woman's jersey, I thought it might accommodate them.

Pearl Izumi jerseys I have from way back fit comfortably at XL, but most brands are obscenely tight. I am pretty top heavy but I would have thought a size above the rest of me would accommodate that, surely?

I'm also shocked that women's jerseys are so short. Again, when dealing with boobs, one has to factor in extra length in the front and back to accommodate them, it's not just about expanding the chest area width wise.

I think I will keep my Ride to Work voucher for the bike, panniers, lights and a lock. The clothing I'll have to work out when the sales hit and I can find stuff that actually fits. Sigh...

A possible new bike: the grandad special

So, the Ride to Work scheme is on again at work and the whole company is moving to a new location soon. The commute by public transport is a nightmare for me, but I reckon the cycle would be well under an hour.

Reg, my trusty Sirrus is ready to be put out to pasture. His odometer is showing a hideously high number that's gone above 8,000km (5,000 miles) and a friend's husband who worked as a bike mechanic visibly blanched at the state of him when he checked him over for me.

He will be kept as a second and I have a huge soft spot for him. He and I have done wonderful things together.

The problem with Ride to Work is that, suddenly, all those tasty looking numbers you passed by are available. But what to choose?

My grandad is a proper cyclist. He is now well into his eighties and only gave up two wheels in the past couple of years when he physically wasn't able to cycle any more. Bicycles have bridged the generation gap and it's what we talk about most of the time when we're together. He and 'uncle' Steve toured together often and it was the cycle to work in a rhubarb field where grandad and my grandma first courted.

On my 30th birthday he apologised when he 'only' gave me his bicycle tools. There was no 'only' about it, I was hugely touched and they're something I treasure.

Grandad's bike of choice was his Dawes tourer. He's always loved the brand and it was a bike he loved to ride. It was natural, therefore, that when I decided a tourer would be my next bike, I looked to Dawes.

Unfortunately, the classic Galaxy models are HIDEOUS. They're an insipid and ugly green. They're also very heavy and just not elegant at all. I generally fit men's frames better than women's, but I don't want anything so obviously and chunkily masculine.

But then I saw him, a flash of a vintage-style paint job, carbon forks, leather-look grips and seat. I have a serious bike crush, he's a Dawes Clubman and I'm desperate to try one to see if he's The One.

Of course if he is, the next problem is the name...

Three years - a baby, two weddings, a new job and yet the potholes haven't changed...

So I have returned to my old company in west London. My cycle commute is once again along the Uxbridge Road and, while many things have changed in the three years since I was last a regular on the road, the potholed hideousness that is the road surface hasn't.

In the summer of 2010 I was at the peak of my cycling. I travelled everywhere by bike, I was the fittest I've ever been, I was just happy. Then breaking my wrist was the first in a chain of lifestyle altering changes. I was sold to another company that was nearly two hours' commute from home under TUPE (boo), I discovered I was pregnant (hooray), my sister got engaged (hooray), my parents moved to France (initially boo, then hooray), I had Eenie (hooray), sister got married (hooray), I got married on the quiet (hooray), I couldn't go back to work (boo), I filled my time helping with a local parents' group (hooray), I got a new job (hooray). And that brings us to now, today.

Suffice to say, much has happened, it's been three bloody years after all, so why the hell is the Uxbridge Road still a pothole addled mess of a road? Muscle memory means I routinely pull round certain stretches of road out of habit and what shocks me is that in many instances the problem spots from three years ago are still a problem now. Why are there routinely 5cm or deeper holes all over the place? Why has no one rectified the hideously bumpy stretch of bus lane just before Shepherd's Bush? Why has no one addressed the melted tarmaccy mess of lumps in the eastbound lead up to the bike box on the junction with Gunnersbury lane?

I can't help noticing that the particularly bad stretch of cycle lane heading west from Ealing Broadway towards west Ealing is dominated by new developments. There are several new office blocks, hotels and residential flat blocks being thrown up on that section and nearly every one of them seems to need the road drilled. That I can understand, but who is responsible for checking the road has been put back in a state befitting its use? I can't use that section as the bumps put me at risk of coming off my bike.

I'd use the A4 off-road cycleway but that's another hideous mess worthy of a post all its own.

I am not impressed. I may, in fact, write to my local paper (oh dear God, I AM that person now)...

Back in the saddle

It's been nearly three years since a baby, work woes and various life and technological crises got in the way of my blogging.

I'm back, I'm on my bike and Eeenie Weenie is now a strapping toddler. The rage has also returned.... Watch this space.

I'm a horribly neglectful blogger...

As you can imagine, it's been somewhat difficult to blog for the last few months as I'm not cycling and am knackered all the time. I also have that elusive and mythical problem: babybrain.

I have, in the past, been doubtful that such a phenomenon exists, but it clearly does. I've chatted gaily to people on the bus only to think vaguely as I disembark 'Who on earth was that?', I've put the tea caddy in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard, I've forgotten to send emails then been mystified as to why people aren't aware of plans.

Luckily, my work seems unaffected and I now only have six and a half days left before I'm off on leave.

So what to blog about... Hmmmmm, perhaps what no-one tells you before you get pregnant.

It's 10 months, not nine. It's 40 weeks of waiting and, believe me, it really feels that long when you start to get big!

SPD. This wonderful phenomenon means that if you're a little bit flexible to start with your pelvic ligaments can get too loose. Oh the joy of feeling like you're being kicked in the lady bits every time you get up, sit down, roll over in bed etc etc. Go to your GP, get a physio referral, it's not normal!

The judgment. Wherever you are you are, whatever you're doing, you are being judged, by them. Carrying a Starbucks/Costa cup? Expect those filthy looks to come flying in. Yes, you're allowed some caffeine, yes, you may well have ordered a decaff but they don't care. They care only that they know everything about pregnancy and know that you are naughty for daring to drink that POISON while pregnant. How very dare you.

If you're feeling particularly masochistic, perhaps you could order that small glass of wine when you're in the pub because that's worthy of a couple of horrified gasps generally. I have had about four glasses of wine/champagne over the course of the past five months, my midwife said I could have a glass a week. So nananananaanaaaah.

'You shouldn't be working in your condition!' Oh really? Thanks for the input, but given that the modern economy works on the premise that most women of childbearing age work you can sod off thank you very much. Oh and get up out of the priority seat you lazy and nobular saddo.

Tube blindness. This tragic affliction should not be underestimated. I am now nearly 35 weeks pregnant and the size of a small whale. I have given up asking for a seat, people pretend not to hear or just look at me blankly.

There are people who are fabulous, they block others from rushing into seats and call me over from across the carriage. There are those who, also standing, loudly upbraid their fellow passengers for ignoring me and then there are those who, on seeing the bump, leap to their feet and demand I sit down. Bless them all. If only they weren't outnumbered by tw*ts who look m in the bump and then whip out a Blackberry/iPhone and start tapping away like their lives depended on it. Eyes glued to the screen they hope desperately everyone will think they just haven't seen me. Everyone saw, they share my opinion that you're a nob.

I single out for particular vitriol those who have pushed me into poles, glass partitions and other passengers as they shove me out of the way to get the seat I was aiming for. Bravo people, being that much of an idiot in public takes balls.

The touchers. People are fascinated by pregnancy, hell, so am I. It's pretty damn amazing that my body can build a whole new person. That said, please don't get too excited and PLEASE don't touch the bump unless I know you or you've asked. Friends, family, even acquaintances who have asked nicely, it's fine. Strangers, it's weird, and a bit gross.

Medical students. I've had a few in my time and I'm always happy for them to join in. They have to learn and I'm generally quite chilled out health-wise. However...

When you're fairly new to the whole Doppler thing and you've been poking around for a bit without success, do NOT half-whisper in a panicked tone 'I can't find a heartbeat!' to the midwife. Most first-time mums aren't as chilled out as me, according to the midwives, they might have got a bit upset. Particularly when it was realised that you just weren't poking hard enough.

Anyhoo, rant over, hopefully this'll tide you over for a bit...