My walk to the supermarket takes me by the motorway. It was Sunday morning: no surprise to be overtaken by many many motorbikes, they often have a Sunday run out to Alston or otherwhere.
The surprise this morning: fifty-odd bikes, each one double-laden with appropriately big burly blokes, each in their black leathers and helmets - and an awful lot of pink. Pink tabards, pink glittery-things, pink feather boas, pink fairy wings. I guess it was the gay bikers out for a run. I wanted to applaud...