Two weeks ago on my trike, I accidentally interrupted a woodland layby lesbian love-tryst, whilst commuting home from work.

Cars nuzzling, bumper-to bumper; drivers in the foremost, likewise. Very restrained. Very Home Counties.

Everyone looks-up to smile and wave when the tricycle goes past.

Last week on my trike, I found a discharged smoke grenade alongside the cycle path whilst commuting to work from home.

Apparently they’re 5 quid a throw, and used ones go for a quid – but I didn’t pick it up.

Tonight on my trike, returning from visiting friends, on the A30 downhill into Hartford Bridge in moderate rain I achieved a new personal top speed of 34.5 mph (55.5 km/h) and got a soggy bottom in the process.

What adventure does the future hold? And does it involve Lycra racing shorts?

(ick)