This is the first week I've done all my commuting on the bike since before Christmas. For once, the weather provided no excuses at all.
In the process, I seem to have become a bag-person. Various necessities are all kept in a bag, so that they can all be strapped down together in the basket. There's a pump, spanner and tube repair kit, a reflective waistcoat for after dark, the mirror and lights (you don't think those can be left on the bike in London, do you?), towel and shower-substitute spray (alcohol, witch-hazel and water), jumper to put on at the office. And the map. And the camera if I remember. And a pen. I think that's everything.
The trouble is, there are bags within bags. The mirror has its own little bag to protect the surface. The jumper has a bag to stop it getting dirty, or snagged on the spanner. The towel and spray have their own bag. There's a spare of the mirror bag for all the lights all go together (to make them easier to find, I thought).
But the start of most journeys is still dogged with desperate rummaging, accompanied by sighs and mutters, as the things I'm looking for hide in odd corners or disguise themselves to the touch as something else. It's just like all those people who hold up bus and supermarket queues looking for their purses and passes.
Ladies, I feel your pain (but all the same, passes and small change are what pockets are for, you know).