When I made it home tonight, I was as wet as a drowned rat that was buried at sea, in a coffin full of water.

My 'water repellent' yellow top is as much use as crazed monkey in a spaceshuttle.

All my cycling gear is slung over chairs and coat hangers in a feeble attempt to dry it our for tomorrow morning.

Getting soaked - again - made me nearly as mad as Panorama reporter John Sweeney from Monday's documentary on the Church (sorry, cult) of Scientology.

Next time, it will make me as a mad as the scary-Tom Cruise look-a-like from the scientologists.

I paid £20 for the cycling top, if I remember correctly. For £50 I could have had a waterproof and windproof top.

I should have got it.

Same with my locks. I should have bitten the bullet and got a £60 one so I could rest easy that I was as well protected as possible.

At least there's one area I didn't skimp - the bike.

It's not a great bike, it won't win races, but compared to the hulking mountain bikes I see poeple, with people bouncing along on top on them, wasting their energy - it goes like a rocket!