Clapham common shocker

After having spent a lovely problem free weekend with Steve and my friend Dave (despite a minor puking incident in the pub on Friday night which was a tad embarrasing) I found myself needing a moment out of the flat on Sunday evening. Probably something to do with the fact that the resting temperature is somewhere in the region of 54 degrees, and sometimes it becomes a little bit stifling.

So, I took myself off to Clapham Common, to clear my head, think through some things and to be honest, wallow a little bit. I think it was the fact that I ended up at the bandstand in the middle of the common, which was the the last place I saw my parents together as a couple before they decided to go their seperate ways. So I sat on a bench and was enjoying some seriously self-indulgent tears when...

Screeeeech, and CRASH.

Behind me, all of the swans and duck and coots in the lake started squawking and took off and I looked to the road in the distance where there was a car with no windscreen left, lots of screaming and shouting and a man lying on the floor. F**k. Dry your eyes, stop being so caught up in your own cr*p.

Funny how in those situations, you think you'd be useless when in actual fact some strange instinct kicks in and you become super human. I'm not the best person with blood and gore, but I didn't even flinch to find this poor man had lost what appeared to be half of his face in the accident, almost certainly his eye. In fact I knelt by him and cradled his head from the pavement.

He'd cycled across the road with no lights, no helmet and and ipod blaring, not seen the car, who hadn't seen him and that was that.

Thankfully the ambulance turns up quickly, and the man goes to hospital. The most distressing thing for me was listening to him asking 'what happened' over and over and over. And the poor man and his wife in their car, who were so shocked and distressed, and the state of their car was shocking.

I went home to a large vodka and tonic, and watched that awful film 'Final Destination 2' about cheating death, and wondered whether I'd been destined for that car, and if so, whether I'd be chased by 'death'. And then I realised it was all a load of hollywood sh*te and it was merely fate that I'd been at the scene of this horrific incident. And perhaps someone else might not have reacted so calmly, so for that a pat on the back for Ali P.

Fingers and toes crossed that my cyclist pulled through. I guess I'll never know.