I rode to work for the first time this morning. I now have the wettest of wet bottoms.

To alleviate this problem I was standing in the bathroom this morning (my riding was a massive success in terms of finally getting me to work on time and I managed to get to work twenty minutes early – which was handy when dealing with the “wet” issue) and I had my skirt off, drying it under the hand dryer. Suddenly the nasty Iranian cleaner who always yells at you if you leave muddy tracks on the floor, walks in to change the toilet rolls.

Firstly, it’s not my frigging fault it’s wet outside… and it’s not my fault it’s his job to clean muddy footprints. He’s always yelling at our circus kids, and I always yell back at him to leave them alone. He’s like the Soup Nazi, but he’s Footprint Nazi.

Anyway I think he was so shocked to see me with me skirt off, standing in my mis-understander-pants with my stockings lying on the ground and my singlet in the wash basin and me holding my skirt under the dryer, that he did the only thing he knows how to do…. he started yelling at me. A lot. Still not quite sure what I did wrong this time (maybe it was a modesty issue… mind you – he’s the pervert in the girls toilet, I’m allowed to be there) but his voice rose about ten octaves and his accent got really thick and I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about for ages, until finally I literally dropped my skirt onto the ground, ran into the toilet cubicle and started yelling back.

I don’t think the Iranian cleaner likes me very much. I don’t like him either, but he has a moustache that deserves kudos. Think Magnum PI.

So I’ve been sitting with a wet rear-end all day.

I might have to consider investing in “bike clothes”…. Boo! Nobody looks good in lycra. Nobody.

The mo

The mo

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