Thoughts on yesterday's unfortunate series of events...

My left knee has swollen and it's one of those situations where I have to take stairs one at a time. Sleeping, oddly enough, is fine, once I manage to get into bed (what an ordeal that was last night). I went to bed early, around 21.30 hours, having spent the evening lying on the sofa. I felt odd, feverish almost, but certainly 'hot', although I don't think I was running a temperature. The news came on as usual this morning, but I wasn't getting up to go riding, I simply remained where I was, on my back, my left knee stiff and my fingers stiff too, and bandaged.

It took a while to figure out how to get out of bed without hurting myself, but once I was standing up I realised that I could put my full weight on the damaged knee and I was a little more mobile than I was yesterday. But not by much. The knee is still swollen and I somehow doubt if I could ride a bike today.

The old Kona Scrap (above).

The whole thing annoys me somewhat and I mustn't forget my role in the whole thing, taking the corner unnecessarily fast in wet conditions.

There's nothing worse than being incapacitated. I'm sitting here now with bandaged fingers and a swollen knee and even typing is harder than usual. And it goes without saying that, while I'm okay (at least I think I am, I'm seeing the doc Monday) I've started to re-appraise things. Perhaps it all happened because I was tired, perhaps I should go to bed earlier than I do and then I wouldn't be so whacked out all the time and if I'm not tired I might have been thinking clearer when I approached the Tatsfield village bus stop. Who knows? But I believe I'm invincable, I believe in my own immortality, it's pathetic really.

I'd come back home late on Friday night from Sheffield and then I stayed up watching Graham Norton and it's never as good as I think it's going to be, so why not just go to bed earlier? I used to go to bed at 9.30pm, but these days it's nearer to 11.30pm and sometimes even midnight and all I'm doing is sitting around doing nothing of any great importance, just putting off the moment when I hit the sack, as if I'll miss something.

I feel quite ashamed of myself for one reason or another; covered in bandages, limping, unshaven, unable to do things because of my general state of health. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not ill, just nursing some minor injuries, but I'm totally incapable as a result and I hate it.

I'm hoping that when I see the doctor tomorrow that he (or she) says I'm fine and should simply rest up, leave the knee well alone, lay off the riding for a week or two and things will improve. I don't want X-rays and all that probing about bollocks. I feel fine.

And here's a ridculous thought for you, while I was on the ground, in pain, dealing with the shock of the whole thing and unable to move, I found myself thinking, "Andy, take the shot, get the shot," but never managed to vocalise the thought.

It's almost 1pm and lunch beckons. I'm sitting in the conservatory chilling out. I should do this even when I'm not incapacitated and that, of course, is the problem. I don't know how to relax.

The Old Ship at Tatsfield