Thursday photos

The cherry pickers were at it again today, installing fairy lights in this row of trees along The Bay. There's one bloke in the one on the left and two in the other. God knows what all this is costing.... and who is paying for it. They've been at it for weeks, with no end in sight. It's not like they're even proper trees - more like overgrown shrubs.

To the obnoxious twat in BKK 51C - even though your car is rather small, you were never going to be able to turn left from the bike lane. The bike lane is pretty narrow - even narrower than your car. How about you just stay in your own fucking lane from now on and not get in the way of everybody else?

I was very taken by the design on this jersey, as well as the definition in his legs. Yes, I am straight by the way. However, cycling has made me partial to a nicely cut calf muscle. My knicks must be too tight, cutting off the circulation to my balls.

A dapper gent in a suit on a very upright bike. I read a good article at Copenhagenize today about getting rid of the term "avid cyclist", and I agree. I am not an "avid cyclist" - I cycle, and I blog about it, and I do plenty of other stuff. We don't call the mum who drives her kids to school an "avid motorist", do we? Why should we stick that label onto people who choose to use a bike for some of their journeys?

Yes, he was even wearing proper shoes!

He zipped along at a reasonable clip too. I wouldn't want to travel any distance on that contraption and in that get up, but if he was only coming in a few kilometres on the flat, this would be the perfect way to get around. I was trying to get up close to read the office security badge in the back pocket of his back pack in order to see where he worked - failed.

Another jersey design that caught my eye.

And that was Thursday. We are getting down to the fag end of the week now. Monday always starts on a high, with the legs well rested and the bloodstream pumped with vim and vinegar. Once the muscles have warmed up, hills are eagerly looked forward to with the aim of getting up them faster than ever before.

By Thursday, the shine has worn off. Whilst the hills still have their alluring charm, attacking them results in waves of pain and exhaustion that start at in the calves and explode as they shoot up into the thighs. Reaching the crest of each rise brings on a crescendo of sweet agony from each leg. The downward slope provides a brief respite before the next hill looms up ahead, with the challenge of "can I shave a few seconds off this hill today?" Even if I can't, I still have a go.

Monday did involve a nasty coughing fit though - the crusty, green remains of a brief dose of flu had to be hacked from each lung, and they didn't surrender easily. The coughing was so bad, I thought I was going to vomit - which is not easy when you're on a bike and in motion. It felt like one of those 3am on Saturday vomits coming on - the kind when you've already chucked up the 2am kebab and the shooters, then chucked up again, working your way down through the cheap red wine and curry and then chucked again, finally reached the chips and beers that you had at the start of the night. As Abraham Lincoln put it, I was "down to the raisins". Bleah.