A Weekend to Forget
A hastily-constructed blog to recount the events of the weekend of 6th November 2010 for the benefit of friends, family and anyone else who is interested.
Life really does have a habit of throwing up the unexpected, and if the rather inconvenient arrival of an anti-BNP protest right outside the BBK library wasn’t surprising enough, I certainly wasn’t expecting what happened to me later that day.
On Saturday 6th Nov 2010, at just after 8:20pm, I was assaulted on the streets of Paddington.
Completely unprovoked, completely without warning, a random stranger walked past me and punched me square in the right eye.
In the seconds that followed, my life went into slow-motion. Looking back all I remember is moving aside for a stranger, running to catch up with my friend Paul, the flash of a fist, and then the vision of the car next to me in the road.
I turned to see a typical baggy-jeaned hoodlum reaching for something in his belt. Either he was acting out of bravado, or he was reaching for a weapon.
We did the only thing we could: we ran.
By now my head was spinning, I was disoriented, and blood was gushing from my eye. I remember bumping into a pair of distinguished-looking old people typical of the Paddington area when we reached the bottom of the road. I remember swearing profusely and then apologising for swearing in front of them. I remember Paul grabbing me by my shirt and leading me in the direction of the hospital.
After five or ten minutes, we were lost and it all became too much. As the immediate danger subsided, Paul did the only thing that seemed sensible, and phoned the police. Five minutes later and I was sitting in the back of an ambulance trying to explain to the paramedics and the police exactly what had happened.
According to the policewoman, there is a bail hostel nearby. Bastards.
At this point I felt two strong emotions. The first, anger at the degenerate dick-head who had attacked me without warning; the second, fear that I might have lost sight in my right eye.
Things certainly weren’t looking good, and the paramedics couldn’t commit to an answer either way. They thought I might be alright, but really couldn’t be sure. They took us to St Mary’s hospital in Paddington where we sat in A&E until nearly midnight.
When we finally got processed I had x-rays and the doctor checked me for retinal damage. Things were starting to look better.
It was then that they announced that the cut in my eye was so deep it needed stitches and they themselves couldn’t deal with it. I’d have to go to Chelsea and Westminster at 7am to have an operation under general anaesthetic.
I was miles from home, the tubes were a mess, and by this time of night, they were closed anyway. We ended up getting a taxi back to Paul’s to grab three or four hours’ sleep before getting up at 5am to travel to Chelsea and Westminster.
Not a simple task in the early hours of Sunday morning I can tell you.
After a few navigational errors, we ended up at the hospital just after 7am. We were still waiting to be seen at 9:30. (Next time I get assaulted by a random stranger, I’ll make sure not to do it on the weekend of Bonfire Night.)
After a good deal of prodding about with my eye, I was then informed to my intense relief that I could be stitched up under local anaesthetic if I was willing. Was I ever!
In hindsight, the local-anaesthetic route was certainly not the most comfortable option in the world, but at the end of the day, all I wanted was to eat and to go home to watch the MotoGP.
Less than an hour later, and I was done, my trust companion Paul, still loyally by my side.
It was time for a fry-up.
It’s not often that I’ll give a Lloyd’s Bar a recommendation, but Lloyd’s Bar in Fulham Broadway certainly knocked up one of the most satisfying fry-ups I’ve ever had. Maybe it was the stress, or maybe it was the fatigue. Either way, we emerged both completely satisfied and well deserving of a good day’s rest. Would I get a good day’s rest? In short, no, but that’s another story.
All that remains for me to say now is a big THANK YOU to Paul for sitting with me through two intense A&E waiting room sessions; for letting me sleep in his bed Saturday night while he slept on the floor; and most importantly of all, for not telling me about the size of the anaesthetic needle until after the event.
Cheers mate!
Until next time,
M.J.Ryder