Saturday morning, cycling to work, 8:45am

• Bangra and bass thumping out of two silver beamers parked outside Leyton Police station.
• A postman walking very fast.
• A convoy of four cement mixers queuing to enter the Olympic Park.
• The milkman stopping off at the Londis on his way home.
• Dozens of Saturday runners out in Victoria Park, but nobody resting on the benches.
• A shout of "Awright darlin'!" from an old lady sitting on the front steps of her house, nursing a cup of tea, in Bethnal Green.
• No other cyclists next to me at the traffic lights.
• Speeding down the almost empty Hackney Road, very fast, in top gears.
• Swerving past the broken glass outside the strip clubs in Shoreditch.
• Spooked by the post apocalyptic emptiness that is The City on a weekend...
• ...except for two men in very well cut suits going into JP Morgan,
• and a delivery of beer to a pub in Moorgate.
• My colleague going out to buy me a bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee when I get to my desk.