But what about the other loose ends, I hear you cry!
Well, my bike was never returned to me. I presume that it was no longer ride-able. I never felt any animosity towards the lorry driver and certainly never tried for any compensation, because I wouldn't have been able to swear it wasn't all my fault. And the lorry driver had probably had a bad enough day as it was. He was probably really late home for his tea.
Pish and tish, you say, we weren't talking about the lorry driver.
Okay then. Well, I didn't ride a bike for a few years, but I have mentioned in earlier blogs how I did occasionally borrow people's bikes and then break them. People often used to assume that I would get the shivers when sitting in a car alongside a lorry. I'm sure I got some sympathy directed towards me because of this. But, honestly, it didn't reall bother me that much.
No, not that!
My arm, then? Well, the nurses often told me that I could have plastic surgery to improve the look of the skin on my arm. But I don't think it looks that bad and I didn't think it looked too bad shortly after the accident. What was especially satisfying was when the layers of skin would come away as they were healing, like a snake sloughing its skin.
You are disgusting! No we want to know what happened to the present your mum and dad bought you in hospital...
Ah, I see. Well, that's a bit strange, but all the same...
My Mum and Dad bought me a book to read while I was in hospital.
It was this book...
Not the book, you idiot! You didn't even mention the book in the original blog. It's the orange juice they brought you. You mentioned it once, for no good reason, and then you never mentioned it again. You can't just leave us dangling like that. It's a terrible thing to do in a bit of writing.
Ok, ok. It was just a bit of detail, but if you are going to get hung up on it then I shall tell you what happened to the orange juice.
I drank it.
Actually, a bit like 'Neverness', I started it, but I never finished it. And on my final day in hospital I noticed the bottle looked like it was bulging a bit, and as I opened the bottle for the last time, it let out a little gasp of gas. In the few days it has been sitting, unrefridgerated, on my side table the orange juice had fermented a little bit.
And so I drank it.
Because, being a fatty with no self control, I can never resist a bit of free booze.