Riding to work has been such a pleasure since I got back from New York. The streets are Summer-quiet, term-time-quiet, August-quiet - and with so little traffic I can sail straight through most of the minor intersections (don't tell the police). After a few weeks of trudging through my cycling routine, this morning I seemed to breeze through the city, hardly raising a sweat, through a dream run of green lights. Don't you love that?
Driving through New York, all the lights along the avenues turn green at once, so that the taxi drivers fang it the minute the light changes to catch as many as they can. Well, at least our taxi driver did on the way to Harlem one Sunday, but I'm fairly sure he was high at the time, given his breezy disregard of lane markings, barriers, cones, pedestrians and police cars. I don't blame him; even as a passenger, that endless string of green lights appears in front of you and your foot involuntarily presses to the floor.
So, I am feeling a little better than I was and had a nice time in Sweden with my newly health-conscious brother (the same brother who used to survive on two minute noodles and cocktail franks), and I am off to the Edinburgh festival this weekend which I am excited about. It is a 4.5 hour train trip, but I am well equipped with the most gigantic book known to mankind, second only to the bible: Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy.