Last Sunday the 6th Brompton World Championship took place and somehow I found myself in among the competitors.

It was rather last minute; my partner informed me the week beforehand I was racing in team Walton Street Cycles and I had to find my suit jacket.

Yes, no lycra allowed and I had to wear jacket, shirt and tie!

I have a tie and I don’t suppose many women can boast such an innately manly item in their wardrobe, but I probably bought it on a whim when masculine fashion was the thing.

I am assuming everybody knows what a Brompton is and assumptions can be rather annoying if you’re on the receiving end, but if you never travel on public transport you may not know the Brompton.

For those in the dark, it’s the best folding bicycle on the market, with eloquent design to make it one of the smallest folding bikes with a rather natty consumer following.

I mean that affectionately as I myself am a Brompton groupie; so too are some of my favourite customers and really I think everybody should find space (or rather not have to find space) for a Brompton in their lives.

It’s the eccentricity that’s part of the attraction – after all, owning a Brompton elevates you to what feels like a secret club.

You can’t help but eye up other Bromptons as they are all so individual and made to order, and last Sunday the most outlandish of them descended upon Blenheim Palace.

My heart really wasn’t into the competitive side of things, I had had enough of being competitive as a child but it made my day seeing the good the bad and the ugly in colour and accessory choice. Heck, I even saw a massive cheat in the paddock beforehand with a motor attached to his Brompton!

But the people and the bikes are what make the day, with everyone dressing up. It’s like a huge fancy dress party with prizes for the best costume.

I myself had to spend my 35 minutes of the race overtaking and being overtaken by a man dressed up as the film character The Mask.

His attention-grabbing yellow costume and green mask is certainly what lost me time and if you are reading this Mr Mask, I’ll get you next year...

Another competitor raced with the most un-aerodynamic headgear known to man, a two-foot cardboard hat of Big Ben.

I myself stupidly wore a velvet jacket, but thankfully my shirt was silk and a bit more breathable.

A spectator friend however did comment on how I successfully managed to undress myself throughout the race and finish with bra on show (oh the shame) but I tell you it was pretty hot out on that track.

Although only in its sixth year, this race – along with the growing popularity of the bike – will eventually gain it a status on par with the London Marathon and I really hope it never leaves its home ground at Blenheim.

If you want to see some coverage of the great event and that scoundrel in the Mask costume, visit www.brompton.co.uk/bwc/2011