and headed out.
During the week, the City of London is a tarmac battleground, with taxis, buses, and delivery vans working each other up into a froth of impotent rage and frustration. The cyclist needs her wits about him to get where they're going.
On the weekend by contrast, the City is empty, with the few motor vehicles there driving calmly and sensibly. It's great fun for biking in when it's like that - empty streets and plenty of interesting things to see.
Having survived the stress of locking my bike up on Brick Lane, and coming back to find it both still there and without a 'for sale' sign on it, I rolled back to the Trois V's new favourite cafe 'Look Mum No Hands' on the Clerkenwell Road, where coffee was drunk, flyers for hipster nights out were scoffed at, bike magazines were bought, and signs which express the Trois V philosophy were admired.
A message was received from the front that both Wessexuals were smartly dressed and riding in honour of Dennis Hopper, who died yesterday. Any more celebrity deaths and the Trois V black armbands will be worn through. Doug's small ring was playing up again, but an angel in mechanic form has replaced a cable and got him functioning once more.