Bobby's birthday is fast approaching, and the only gift that he wants is a decent bicycle.

All well and good, except that he wants to use it to ride the eight miles to and from work. This does make sense in some ways - his reasoning is that (once he's got used to it) it'll be an enjoyable way to make sure that there's exercise built into his everyday life. While I sympathise with this, and I agree that daily exercise is really important, and I accept that he doesn't want to just join a gym instead, I think ... well, I can't think of a tactful way to put this ... I think he's completely and utterly nuts.

I mean, for God's sake, riding a bicycle eight miles each way, up steep hills, on narrow, traffic-congested roads, across a brutal traffic circle (an on- and off-ramp to the M25, so it's always filled with enormous lorries and fast cars), in the rain (often) and the dark (always, in winter)... It's a recipe for Roadkill Husband, that's what it is.

I know this is what he really wants, and that he's an intelligent adult who generally makes sensible decisions - but I just can't quite get to grips with the idea of giving him a gift that I think could be the death of him!