Yesterday I had to work in Central London, Shaftsbury Avenue to be exact. That meant riding into the heart of the beast, spending 30 minutes finding somewhere to part that doesn’t cost £10 per hour (thank you NCP) and then trudging in my kit to the office.
Nothing too bad there at all, appart from the cronic lack of bike parking in Camden Borough that is, but it amazes me how when I’m wearing my bike kit it’s like I’m from another planet.
Let’s take two identical tasks, walking up Shaftsbury Avenue, buying a sandwich and then going into the office building.
First of all earlier in the week I did this in my suit and tie, stolled into the sandwich shop grabbed lunch and got a nice smile from the girl behind the till, ambled up the road and into the office building where I got a ‘hello sir’ from the chap at the door and a ‘how can I help you sir’ from the girl on Yahoo! reception.
Scrub forward 24 hours. This time I’m in my bike kit. Stroll into sandwich shop and get followed by security, get a frown from the same girl behind the till. Wander into the office building and get stopped and searched by security. Get totally blanked by girl in Yahoo! reception until I point out that I’m a producer from the BBC and would she mind finding someone for me.
Why?
