So there I was, innocently minding my own business, cycling happily (because I was for once, actually going to be on time) to work, as I would on any other Tuesday.
But, today was to be different.
As I rounded the corner of Lancaster Gate, expertly sneaking through that red light on the outside line – a manoeuvre borrowed from some fellow expert cyclists – the sounds of John Mayer were rudely interupted by an unwelcome hiss. It wasn’t the irrate drivers either. It was my tire.
Lancaster Gate: punctured and three miles from work = problem.
Unfortunately, my size 0 toolkit doesn’t include a pump (this obtusely is in fact a resident of my office desk) or I could have repaired the puncture on site. So I began the rather lengthy stroll to work, wheel in hand through Hyde Park Square.
I almost took a double take – it’s not every time you see Keira Knightley leaving her house. But stopped; I’m obviously too cool for that. I wasn’t sure though – could it really be Keira Knightley? I conceded to the double take. It was her. And Keira was being accompanied by some average looking chap.
Not quite sure of the best thing to do, and actually in need of directions having decided that I would indulge in a spot of ‘tube’, I lingered for a moment, waiting for Keira and Kompanion to catch up. Pretending very cleverly that I had no idea who they were, I casually enquired where the nearest tube might be (a genuine and very reasonable question).
In fact, Keira didn’t live up to her Knightley name at all. She even had the audacity to almost ignore me. But it was her Kompanion who saved the day. He kindly pointed out that Marble Arch was in the opposite direction that which they were walking.
And so here I herald. Keira Knightless Knightley. Long live Kompanion.