I wore my parka (ex-Dutch Army; liberally covered with embroidered patches on aviation and canine themes and badges with slogans such as 'Parka Power', 'Go Vespa' and 'Proud to be a Furry'; smells pretty authentic too), my Union Jack Doc Marten's and my stick-on Dalmatian ears.
Trundling into the Inner Circle at 11:30 as per the schedule, I was greeted by the splendid sight of around fifty shiny shiny scooters and their riders. There were scooters covered in mirrors, scooters with Keith Moon's portrait airbrushed on the side, and one fabulous orange one with pink and green Dayglo psychedelic flowers.
The only other automatic there was a black ET4, ridden by a woman from Milton Keynes who had come down with her husband and his classic Vespa. We had a good chat about the finer points of our beasts before the off.
The last scooter rally I attended was a bit of a disaster, to be honest; we were stopped by the law twice, and we all got hopelessly separated. This one had marshals and police cooperation, and we stuck together all the way through Soho, past Oxford Circus, down Shaftesbury Avenue, round Trafalgar Square and up Holloway Road to the finishing point.
We tore around central London for an hour and a half, turning the air blue with exhaust smoke and peeping merrily to each other. Pedestrians stopped, pointed and whipped out their cameras. We were briefly one of the chief tourist attractions of Old London Town.
We were the Mods, and we rocked.