A couple of weeks ago a driver drew up beside me as I cycled along, and said: “What are you complaining about?”

Or something to that effect.

To be fair, he spoke politely.

I pulled over, blocked by flooding.

“I didn’t hit you.” he said.

My reply was something like: “You pulled out as I was passing.”

It should have been: “Whether you hit me or not is hardly the benchmark for dangerous driving.”

There was a bit more back and forth, and then he said: “Okay, get home safely.”

But in a less threatening way than that reads on the page.

Before all this happened I had been riding down Stamford Hill after a dispiriting 2-1 defeat to Newcastle at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.

I saw the motorist in question at a junction to my left and as I passed he edged out.

It felt dangerous and I rattled off a few expletives.

Now, to be clear, there was no need for the car to pull out as I passed, and pulling alongside a cyclist to have a go at them is a dangerous and aggressive action, no matter how polite you are in tone.

However, it made me realise how angry I often am on the road.

I saw that car and I was wary that it might move out, and when it did, my indignation was primed.

I do the same with pedestrians who catch themselves just before walking out into the road.

I swear at drivers going a bit too fast in a residential street, and at those who overtake me impatiently, even though I’m clearly going to overtake them again at the red light.

We’ve all got stress in our lives, and there's nothing like the road to let it all spill out.

Cyclists are angry at motorists and pedestrians, motorists are angry at cyclists and pedestrians, and pedestrians are angry at motorists and cyclists.

There’s no great moral to this tale, only that we need to be self aware and considerate of others. That is true for me as much as anyone.