I would pick the a grey and windy, autumn-setting-in sort of a day to test out a route to cycle to work: but even with a head-wind trying to blow me backwards across Tower Bridge and a stop to check the maps, it took me no longer than it would by public transport - 41 minutes door to door. No excuses now...
The best thing is how you can see - and stop to look at - all sorts of interesting odds and ends - the curious coat of arms at the entrance to Guy's Hospital, or the mural commemorating the most exciting piece of local history in what is now a very quiet residential street (so quiet, it's got the only real cycle lane in the area - sadly, it appears to have been laid with the only square-wheeled roadroller in existence).
For a couple of weeks I've been trying to work out what niggled me about a piece in the newspaper on the best sort of posture for cycling. Sit upright, let the legs do the work: it wasn't just the vague memory of an old-style district nurse going about her business, but something else I'd seen.
And then it came to me (I do hope I don't cycle like the first four minutes of this):