Meet Zephirine. There was no way I was trusting my beloved camera to the combination of that front basket and Newham Council’s somewhat slapdash and hazy approach to massive great potholes and the fixing thereof, so I had to wait for the panniers to arrive.
We’d just cycled to Victoria Park along the canal – that seemed like far enough after, what did we do yesterday? Oh yes, cycle the eight miles to work (and back again). I think Steve’s suggested route in this comment will be eminently do-able.
I also think I’ve cracked why going to the gym, or swimming, just don’t work for me as a form of exercise. I need to actually get somewhere when exercising. So I can quite happily walk from point A to point Z, given a sufficient quantity of Penguins* as a bribe, but tell me that I have to walk five miles on a treadmill, or thrash up and down a swimming pool, and I’ll get bored and fall off/drown/try and eat my own leg.
*note for Americans and other aliens: a type of chocolate biscuit.