“I’ve had men snatch tools off me when I’ve been fixing a puncture on the street,” a different response read. Another, male, cyclist bemoaned the cat-calls his 14-year-old niece attracted on her bike. A female cyclist with a Dutch bike told me how she was frequently patronised and sold the wrong sized parts by bike shops as male assistants refused to believe she knew the correct sizing for her own bike. “I view a trip to the bike shop with about as much enthusiasm as a trip to the dentist,” she confided. And a seasoned female cyclist told how her training sessions in Richmond Park almost always ended with male cyclists “like a pack of dogs on my tail”, treating her to pleasantries such as “I wish I was your saddle”.