Edward Garnett

“They’re saying it’s coming now. You’d better get off home or you might not be able to get home. How’re you getting home?” “Bike.” “Oof. I wouldn’t.” You don’t become a regular cyclist in London without developing a carapace of “fuck my haters,” so I cycled home anyway. As the operator predicted, this was a mistake. The wind shook me like a beetle in a matchbox. After bashing myself against a number of surfaces, including the pavement, I hopped off and began walking my bike home. It was full dark and starting to rain by the time I was about two miles from the house. Thunder sounded. The big cutlery cupboard in the sky had fallen off the wall.”
― Kaliane Bradley, The Ministry of Time