She didn't forget mate, she didn't care.
I love this season of postage stamp sized holes in frozen windscreens, as a certain frisson of excitement to the daily commute.
I had a chap last night, follow me through the village for about a mile, plenty of places to overtake, good visability, seemed happy to sit behind me. Then, just as we approach a blind brow, I pull out to overtake another cyclist, he suddenly decides to try and overtake me, and toots his horn at me, annoyed that he had to pull right out into the other lane. He was miles behind me when I looked back to check. Gah, motorists, **** muppets.