sailorette’s diary - a diary writen by a sailorette for her loved ones to read after returning safely home from sea

I won’t tell you the whole story, but the ending is that I have a new lovely little red courier bag. Made by these lovely people.

Image:The concorde formation at The finale of the Queen’s Golden Jubilee weekend, June 4th 2002

Today, a new day has dawned. A shadow has been cast over the Era of the the Hutch bmx and in it’s mighty tire treads, a new following has sprung.

Welcome to an Era where we will no longer be sucking the fumes from buses bottoms. An Era where our legs will never again feel like a hamster running round and round in its wheel. An Era where, my friends, we will ride proud past over-indulgent 16-gears and adapt to the terrain through an evolved flip-flop hub and solid steel chasis.

Welcome! To The Bianchi Pista.

Another bike spotting incident this morning, or actually more like a ‘walking in with nico pushing my bike’ spotting incident:

A guy cycling down the road, in hackney, singing reggae really loudly, with a kitchen sink over his head.

“Only in Hackney!”

The thing about london is it can be a rather bitter and cynical city, but every now and again a little piece of brilliance sneaks out. Like today.

I was cycling in to work and got stuck behind a garbage truck. Normally I would have wrinkled my nose. Today I grinned. In the back were two blow-up sex dolls, a guy and a girl, having plastic blow-doll sex.

Brilliant!