Well, it had to happen sooner or later and tonight was sooner or later. First blood to the bike. Within sight of the flat, on the final stretch of the Water Of Leith cyclepath at around 20mph, I was taking a very slight corner which was sloping away slightly downwards. I felt the rear wheel just slide away from under me and down I went, cracking my knee of the tarmac and then sliding along jauntily on my left side for a bit before the bike hit the barrier and stopped me taking a bath too.

Damaged knee 1

Damaged knee 2

Damaged arm 1

Damaged arm 2

A woman watching as she walked her dog said bugger all, and then shouted after the dog which had run off the other way.

I got up, looked at the injuries and thought, “they be stinging like buggery very soon”, put the chain back on the front chainwheel and pedalled off, trying to look nonchalant and tough – all the while bleeding in steady trickles down my leg and showing some bright red flesh where the skin had been sandpapered off.

It nipped like billy-oh when I got in the shower to wash the dirt and grit off / out (you may have heard me squealing like a little girl from where you are) and even more when I slathered on the antiseptic cream. Then I realised that no plasters were going to cover the scrapes and cuts to stop them bleeding through all of my clothes, so I had to ring my parents and ask if they had any bandages or sterile pads so I could dress for work tomorrow without looking like I’d been stabbed down one side.

Mum’s on her way out now (bless her) so I’ll have something soon to allow me to put a stop to the weeping that the injuries are now doing. I keep having to wipe it off as it’s running down my leg, over my foot and onto the floor. (I hope you’re not eating as you’re reading this, sorry).

It feels like being a child again and having tripped and scraped my knee, then run off crying for my Mum. At 38. Good god, what am I like ?

When I hit Tesco this weekend I’m going to stock up on the bandages and dressings and set up a proper first aid box (not like the one I have just now which consists of no more than pills and lotions). Never again will I have to face the embarrassment of calling my parents out when I fall off my bike.

That’s the first fall; I’m sure there are more to come. Let’s hope they’re as minor as this one was and all it takes to get better is a cup of tea, some chocolate, Tesco antiseptic cream, plasters, dressings and a classic British comedy series on DVD to make me piss myself and forget the parts of me that are stinging and throbbing.