I'm eating breakfast, which perhaps isn't the most sensible accompaniment to the laptop but nevertheless, it's what I'm doing. Along with the news, I'm consuming coffee and some kind of plum-oat-almond creation while I wait for the rest of Saturday to wake up. At the table next to me sits a group of five loud, lycra-clad cyclists, slurping at swimming pools of caffeine, and devouring various forms of protein that I feel probably shouldn't be seen before lunch, talking about routes and food and sleep and wheels and whatever else it is that keeps humanity going. We should probably begin so that I can scroll down the page before they realise I put them in the newsletter.