My behaviour after you’d passed me this morning was not what I’d have hoped. I let the school down, I let other cyclists down, but most of all, I let myself down.
I realise now that when you drove your Big Silver Audi past me as close as you could get, with the window down, and shouting something about “getting on the path”, you were not in fact inciting me to break Section 72 of the 1835 Highways Act, as amended by Section 85(1) of the 1888 Local Government Act, and subsequent Road Traffic Acts. Nor were you seeking to intimidate, bully or otherwise alarm me.
No. You were just trying to communicate with me. You wanted to communicate with me as a fellow human being, for whom you had the deepest concern, and only a desire for mutual understanding.
The trouble was that by the time you’d sped off in a cloud of diesel emissions, the only way I could communicate with you was via sign language.
I hate it when it does that.