>> Wednesday, 22 July 2009
I'm having a rant. If you're in a lovely flowery happy place, click away now...
Still here? Right. Then I'll begin....
First... Why is it that cyclists in London are so self-righteous these days? Obviously they are doing less harm to the environment than car drivers, I get that, but how on earth do they expect to be given the same rights as a car when they don't follow any of the same rules? For example, I can't count the number of times a cyclist has refused to stop or slow down at a pedestrian or a zebra crossing when I'm walking over with my children. And yet, if you challenge them on it, they get all upset. (And yes, I know it takes extra puff to slow down and speed up all the time. But they're cycling in London for goodness' sake. What do they expect?).
Plus, PLUS, cyclists going through red lights on a busy junction. Where in the highway code does it say that's allowed? Is there an extra booklet they issue to cyclists that says 'It's not strictly allowed to jump a red light but you're on two wheels rather than four and using pedal power so, what the hell, you're a saint and exempt from normal road laws. Go for your life...'
And whilst we're at it, why is it, when I'm out walking through London with my boys, male drivers (or even male cyclists) feel it's acceptable to comment if they think my children are too close to the edge of the pavement, are taking too long to cross the road, or they're just having a bad morning and are looking for someone to bully? Ask yourself, would they do that if I was my 6' 4" husband? I think not.
And finally; please, non-blogging PR people (I exclude blogging PR's - you know where it's at, this is not aimed at you at all), if you've even bothered to read this far down the post (which would be a first), take note of the following;
IT'S THE SCHOOL SUMMER HOLIDAYS!
If I don't answer you the first time you e-mail me that is probably because I don't have the time. I know you're working to a deadline. I probably noted what it was when I read your e-mail and promptly prioritised it at the bottom of my list whilst trying to lead something approaching a normal life and simultaneously being a Butlins redcoat. Bombarding me with follow-up mails reminding me that 'time is running out to participate' will not make me feel any kinder to you when I'm dealing with two children hopping around like mad things. I will answer you when I can (if, that is, your note is remotely relevant or interesting - never a given, I'm afraid); and there is nothing more likely to make me hit 'delete' than a second, third, or even fourth email chasing me.
And - breeeeaaaaatheeee.