Stop demonising cyclists

If you were to ask me how many bicycles I’ve had in my life, my response would be about as precise as Boris Johnson’s to the question of how many children he’s fathered. In my case, so many bikes have been stolen over the years – including one attached to a signpost (which vanished along with the bike) and another that I left unlocked for 45 seconds outside Nicolas on Holland Park Avenue. That turned out to be the most expensive bottle of wine I’ve ever taken to a dinner party. (In fact, that was the same bike that had previously been harvested of 90 per cent of its components after being tied up in the street one night, leaving only the bare frame.)

So many bikes, but I persist. And the reason I persist is that in a world of extreme technological and bureaucratic intrusion, of micro-surveillance by Big Brother, of speed cameras, of traffic cameras, of constant nannying, the bicycle is a balm.