Bicycle accident

I got knocked off my bike on Tuesday night. Ambulance, hospital, general anaesthetic … the whole nine yards. No nerve damage and brain seems to be functioning okay, but hopes of becoming a male supermodel have now been dashed.

I was cycling down Holland Park Avenue in West London at around 12.30am, front and rear lights both on, when I saw a car about to pull out of a side street. I slowed down, trying to figure out if he’d seen me. He didn’t move so I assumed he had and was letting me go ahead. I duly cruised past and he pulled out, knocking me off.

The first thing that struck me — apart from the car, obviously — was how hard I’d been hit. I thought, “That’s odd. He wasn’t going that fast, surely?” I staggered towards the kerb, struggling to retain consciousness. I was aware of blood dripping from my head and on to my tie and shirt, but after a few seconds thought, “It’s probably nothing.