I'm driving in heavy traffic along the A13 towards Canvey Island in Essex. A summer downpour has reduced visibility to near zero and the shock of my five o'clock alarm has only just started to recede. Yet I'm bubbling with excitement. Through a break in the weather I've just caught my first glimpse of the flaming vents and cooling towers of Coryton Refinery. I know that within a few hours I'll be handling some of the freshest seafood in London.

I finally received an apology last week from the police for losing my bike, after my moan to the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) made it all the way up to the Superintendent at Belgravia police station. I have to admit that as I made my way down to meet him, I felt like a bit of a pillock. After all, I did get my bike back in the end, and while I was angry with the way I was treated, I'm sure the police have bigger things to worry about than missing bikes. Still, if no one ever complained, perhaps things would never improve – and I do think it's wrong that the police can go round chopping up locks and confiscating bikes, even when there are no signs to let you know you can't park there.