Racing down through Whitechapel just now my beloved Hold Fast strap went and did me the minor disservice of snapping clean in two.
Having no control over the speed of my bike whatsoever i careered into the back of a stationary truck, body slammed into my chest, and got hurled abuse at by some bearded pedestrian who informed me it was the twenty first century and about time i invested in an inventions called brakes. What a dude.
It wasn't until i got into the flat that i clocked something was up with my little finger. I looked down and went slightly pale, realising that the entire force of the impact had epicentred on my silver ring, wrapping it completely around my pinky and squashing it down into some sort of flat stool shape. Try as i might it wouldn't budge an inch.
Cue a little spot of DIY emergency surgery.
All's well that ends well.
Not convinced about rectifying the brake situation either.
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