Friday 22 February 2013

Cyclists and their ilk

My love of sausages, double cream and a general disinterest in exercise was up until recently the sure bet of what would eventually be the end of me. A few recent brushes with death however have forced me to re-evaluate the odds.

Now I have long been on the side of cyclists and warmly welcome more cycling friendly cities, but I don't particularly want to be ran down by them as I try to make my way home with armfuls of shopping (including the aforementioned sausages and double cream). As a pedestrian I'm a general fan of traffic lights, I think they're excellent, the red light tells the road users to stop and the green men tells me everything is OK to cross, I even double check to see if the green man is lying (he usually isn't). 


Occasionally (and more occasionally than should be the case) as I make that first tentative step onto the asphalt and my head turns to check the green man's story about everything being peachy with the crossing situation, I see a cyclist or more worryingly a whole squadron of them leading what can only amount to a modern day cavalry charge onto the poor bastards trying to cross, the meaning of the authoritative red traffic light completely lost to them . They don't slow, they don't even blink an eye as they hurtle towards their unsuspecting victims, the flashing LED bicycle lights reflecting in the panicked eyes of the pedestrians as they try and make the call on whether to risk dashing forward to the other side or retreat to the safety of the pavement behind them. Those too slow to make a decision (that would be me) are left in the middle as the horde of cyclists whizz past them, by the time the panic and fear wear off and I reach into my arsenal of insults to counter attack  they're long gone and whizzing off round the Old Market round-about.

I was lucky this time...