There I am, communing with the tarmac outside the Ormond Hotel on Dublin's north quays, surrounded by a host of angels holding mobile phones, while a couple of local 10-year-olds give me the benefit of their considerable medical expertise.
You're maybe wondering what I'm on, or what I've taken? Well, what I'm not on, is my bike, what I've taken is a tumble. And unfortunately, I led with my right eyebrow, not my most intelligent move ever.
It's just the latest incident in my long, and fortunately undistinguished career, as an urban cyclist, but it has left me with five neat stitches, a prizefighter's eye, smashed spectacles, multiple bruising, and a severe shock to the nervous system. On the plus side, though, it has greatly restored my faith in humankind (more about that anon).
Occupational hazards
"Tumbles" are, unfortunately, one of the occupational hazards of being a city cyclist. It's just that - put it like this - I could live without them.
I'll spare you the details of this last incident. Suffice it to say that it wasn't what I expected. What I expect, on a daily basis - indeed, what every city cyclist expects - is for a driver to cut in sharply in front of me and turn left/ pull into a parking space/ pull up to a bus stop (this last one being especially popular).
Yes, I know, cyclists are guilty of various traffic misdemeanours and offences, and there is no excuse for cycling at night without lights. (Why is it, though, that bikes don't come with lights as standard? I mean, you can't sell cars without them, so why bikes?) But can we leave aside the tit-for-tat accusations, and consider for a moment what I shall call the "right-wing manoeuvre". For this, I'd like you to imagine that you're driving down a city street. There's a left turn just ahead, but you're going to go straight on.
Next thing, a large truck is overtaking you, accelerating past on the outside. And now - can you believe this? - the guy is cutting in sharply in front of you. So you slam on the brakes, as you realise that the truck is actually going to turn left (if you're really lucky, he may be using his indicator). He misses your right wing by a hair's breadth - Whew! - and trundles off down the side road, oblivious to the mayhem that might have been.
You're shaking, gripping the steering wheel, heart in your mouth, knuckles white with tension, and thinking, "Am I invisible? Could he not wait just two seconds to let me pass the turn?" And you wonder if you should have taken his number. But then, what's the use? When you get to work, you're still shaking.
The following day, as you approach the same corner, the exact same manoeuvre happens with another truck. And the day after that again. And the day after that - in fact, every time you approach any left-hand turn, someone driving a much bigger vehicle cuts in on top of you to turn left.
Now you probably think I'm exaggerating, but as any city cyclist will tell you, This Happens All the Time.
I'm sure it's not personal, or deliberate, and I sincerely hope no harm is meant (though you'd be shocked at the violent abuse - physical and verbal - which a few motorists dish out to cyclists. Myself, I put it down to two-wheel envy).
Jamming on brakes
I guess it's just that motorists don't see us, or can't be bothered waiting two seconds, or they think we cyclists are barely moving, and that they can just nip in ahead of us. But actually, the only reason you can nip in ahead of us is because we slam on the brakes.
Given that time is of the essence these days, and every second apparently precious, can I suggest a simple measure that will save you drivers time and hassle in the long run. After all, if you knock me down it's going to delay you something awful (you wouldn't, needless to say, do a runner!), not to mention what it would do to your no-claims bonus.
It's the simple, five-second measure: next time you want to turn left, or pull into a parking space or bus stop, and find there's a cyclist "in the way", just ease back (you will, of course, already have indicated your intentions), and count to five. By which time I'll have moved out of the way and you can safely complete the manoeuvre. No more right-wing activity. And the world will be a better, safer place.
In spite of - indeed because of - my own recent incident, I now know just what a nice place this world can be (not that I'm advocating this unusual route to enlightenment). It all had to do with those angels at the Ormond, who kept me talking until the ambulance arrived, and stopped me moving my head.
Phoned for ambulance
There was the man who phoned for the ambulance; Donal, who brought my bike home for me (despite having got as much of a shock as I did); and Declan - the Angel Declan - who held my hand until the ambulance arrived, then went to tell my friends that they were going to have to adjourn to the Mater.
Thanks, too, to the young lads who minded my bag and entertained me all the while - especially the boy who, not waiting to ascertain if I had VHI cover, dropped down beside me, eyeball to eyeball, examined the wound, and pronounced: "You'll need a couple of stitches, but you'll be OK." And, you know, I think he was right.
Well that completes today's class. Having mastered the "motorist turning left" manoeuver, next time we'll tackle the advanced topic - cyclists turning right. In the meantime, thank you, and safe home.