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My left foot

Yesterday was not such a great day. It started well enough: a decent blog entry written; skyped my parents; had breakfast, and then razzed round to the park for coffee. I was there for a while, talking to my friends and listening to conversations. Lyn was supposed to meet me there, but after a while when she didn't turn up, I nipped back home to see where she was. I needed to pick up my coat anyway.

When I got home, however, L wasn't here. I reasoned that she must have set out already, and headed back out. There are two ways to Charlton Park from our place: one is up a normal, boring suburban street; the other is through Maryon-Wilson park, a pretty piece of ancient woodland. Lyn usually takes the far more interesting latter, so I thought I'd take the shorter path and meet her on the main Woolwich road. The two routes come on to that road at different spots though, so when I got there I looked up the road to see if I could see Lyn. I couldn't, so started to head across the road here when BANG!

A mass of red flashed in front of me, and I suddenly felt an intense pain in my foot. A bus had hit my footplate. Had I been any further onto the crossing and I could easily have been killed. I had assumed the bus would stop for me, but it was going too fast.

What happened after that is a blur of police, paramedics, ambulances. Paul came with me to the hospital, where my left foot, throbbing with pain, was checked over and X-rayed. Luckily it wasn't broken, only bruised. It hurt like hell, and still does. I felt such an idiot - I should have been more careful. More than anything, though, I felt lucky to be alive: had I been any further onto the road, the bus would have hit my side with full force, snd it would have been game over.

Comments

I'm glad to hear your foot isn't broken, Matt. These things can happen to anyone, please don't be angry with yourself!

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