After a week's break while I battled some weird lurgy (fever, sore throat, aches and pains and a dry cough), I got back on the bike this morning expecting it to be terribly wintry and ice-cold. I donned lots of layers and hit the road a little later than normal (8am) only to find it was rather warm out. In fact, the wind blowing into my face as I trundled through the Royal Parks felt practically tropical. I could have easily cycled in shorts and a t-shirt, and I would not have felt cold in the slightest.
Coming home was slightly different. Not cold as such but wet. Very wet. My cycling jacket has been thrown in the washing machine so often over the past three years that it seems to have lost all waterproofing ability, so I could feel the rain trickling down my back and arms as I sped through tonight's misty rain. (I'm beginning to think it's time to splurge on a new jacket: this one has served me well, at a total cost of £40 it really doesn't owe me much.)
For the first time since my "great return" I also cycled home in the dark. I left the office at around 5.50pm and there wasn't much light left in the sky. Within ten minutes it was black. Thank goodness I have a new headlight — and it's powerful too. It provided me with good illumination as I cycled along the bike path on Constitution Hill, one of the more darker sections of my commute. It's rechargable, so it will be interesting to see how many commutes I get out of it before I have to charge it again. (Just to be on the safe side, I think I will invest in a back-up light — I quite like the look of this one.)
It won't be long before both commutes — morning and evening — will be in the dark. Ahhh, winter cycling, there's nothing quite like it, is there?