After I got off the bus at Liverpool Station this morning, I looked into the sky and saw the blazing sun and thought, I’m going to ride the rest of the way to work today. It’s outdoorsy and also fast, which was handy because I was running late.

As you may know, I love riding the bikes. However, that’s because it’s usually pleasant and not at all an emotional rollercoaster. Today however, was different.

I pulled the bike out of the stand and kicked off, riding along with Marc Maron’s WTF in my headphones. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too warm; I was feeling good.

Three-quarters of the way through my commute, that happy feeling was abruptly elbowed aside by the sinking concern that I had lost my keys. I pulled over and looked through my bag three times. Not one of those times did I find my keys. That concern became panic.

That panic then became a realization, a fuzzy memory, that maybe when I pulled my bike out of the docking station, I left a scene like this behind.

Two more searches through my bags and pockets yielded nothing, and I then realized that yup, I’m a fucking idiot.

There was nothing else for it: I turned around and rode back to the scene. By now I was really late. I arrived back at my starting point but there was no set of keys.

As the station is outside of RBS, I went in to ask if anyone had turned them in. Nope.

So I texted the office, saying I was going to be especially late and got on the bus back to the office. Since I had nothing but time I figured rather than stew in bitterness and self-flagellation I’d call Barclay’s to cancel my cycle key. After a minute I was put through to a human who said he’d cancel my year-long subscription while I waited on the phone. I could hear him typing, then he told me.

Someone had already done it!

Someone had found my keys, cancelled the cycle hire subscription (the only thing of any value to anyone other than myself), and then turned them into the police station.

I must say, this St. Martin’s summer weather is making London feel like a nice place to live. But the good turn of a some person to save some random stranger untold frustration and expense is working at least as well.

Today’s a good day to be a Londoner. Even if I did have to lose my fucking keys like a complete dickhead to really appreciate it.