Ofo

As is becoming tradition, Amy came for an early breakfast during which I forced her to eat leftovers from my fridge, then offloaded her with a bag of uneaten food such as little gem lettuce and celery. Ever since I arrived home from Liberia a week ago and went for a shop at Asda, I've been in eating up mode. It's a strange existence at times.

Before going into the office for final preps for travelling to South Sudan, we grabbed a coffee with Elizabeth. I can't invite Elizabeth around to forcefeed her yogurt and orange juice in the same way as I can with Amy, so we meet in more demure surroundings.

The printer conspired to almost thwart my preparations but with the help of colleagues I triumphed and was on my way to Heathrow. I'm travelling with my colleague Nicolas and this is an exciting trip as other than me he's the first staff member to travel to South Sudan for several years. Budgets and security concerns have discouraged such trips until now. As the programme is building momentum the next week will be excellent for sharing ideas about the direction of the project and funders we can approach.

These yellow Ofo hire bikes have exploded around Cambridge and (I believe) London, Oxford and Brighton much the same way as have Deliveroo cyclists and branches of Pret A Manger.

They lurk in bushes and shine out from dark corners when I least expect it and they always remind me of something from Day of the Triffids, yet with a less robust business model. The economics are hugely puzzling as journeys are dirt cheap and the bikes can be abandoned anywhere, to be located by the next rider, even if this is in the deepest fens. The cost of retrieving and repairing damaged bikes must be significant and the ease of smashing in the electronic wheel lock fairly simple.

When Kate's bike was stolen on Thursday night, we started to trudge back to hers but found an abandoned unlocked Ofo bike, which was very handy for her journey home. The locking mechanism had been broken, so that's one of their fleet down.

I don't have the expletives to articulate my disgust at the freezing weather. The numb hands say it all.