|Anchor in a storm|
Cycling to the train station this morning, going hell for leather in the bus lane something unexpected came up. A small boy ran straight into my path.
Cue: spectacular bike dive then palms and knees smacking tarmac. Boy unhurt, but I was left spreadeagled unable to move after the introduction to the floor. Thank God Bristol buses are so unreliable and one wasn’t lumbering its way behind me. Luckily two kind samaritans picked me up, plonked me on the pavement, offering water and tissues to mop up the blood and untangle the bike.
After some minutes on the pavement I rang my kids, both in bed, at the ungodly hour of 8.00am. Apparently it took seven minutes for my son to get from horizontal sleeping mode in bed to arrive by my side, also by bike. I love the fact he timed the rescue mission. My daughter, ever practical, came with paracetamol and the promise of cups of tea back home.
Fortunately no major harm was done other than nasty scrapes, bruises and a pulled muscle.
So, thank you for the kindness of those strangers who stopped to help and who made themselves late for work, and for my lovely family.