A splattering of proof that I was there

Bandaged and very sore from embracing some asphalt reluctantly this week, I set off on foot today to find the scene of my mysterious bike crash, right beside a busy highway in South London, though on a two-lane cycling track that usually gives every appearance of being very safe.

Finding the actual place where the body struck the tarseal didn't offer much of a challenge. It was well-marked, still, with a generous helping of my blood.

The cause, though, was no easier to spot today than Monday when I was loaded into an ambulance and rushed off the highly efficient St Georges Hospital, in Wandsworth.

As I mentioned yesterday, there I was cycling home with my goodies from Aldi, the discount supermarket at Ewell. I stopped at the bridge over the slim Hogsmill River to enjoy a spot of bird-watching as a coot fished animatedly but none too successfully.

Surrounded by a small crowd

I turned, started to cycle … and I woke lying on the cycle lane surrounded by a small crowd.

Today I hoped to find a clue about why I was there: perhaps some strong skid marks from a car off-course, some mud heaped dangerously in the way, something, anything, unusual. But I could find no clues whatsoever.

If the wounds are healed sufficiently, I'll collect my bike tomorrow from the hospital where it travelled with me in the ambulance. Perhaps its frame will offer evidence of a collision, possibly a scraping of paint, to hint of why it happened.

Proof of the cause remained hidden today, but irony put in an appearance. An email from London Transport told me, '… cycling for as little as ten minutes, twice a day, has a positive impact on your health.'

No mention of the effect on a cyclist's health when the ride doesn't go as planned. The promotion continues, 'It improves your mental wellbeing and reduces your risk of serious illnesses.' Hmmm.

P S Let me praise here the treatment I received from the NHS people. It was really highly commendable. The ambulance pair who took me to hospital were consideration and gentleness personified. And the care in the hospital really was quite amazing. We find lots to criticise of that strange part of British life. However, I have to say that the treatment I received was truly outstanding. Thank you, amazing NHS people. Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventure book, Sailing to Purgatory, at SailingToPurgatory.com