FMOB. It's like getting out of Colditz. Anyway, I've excaped, and I suppose you lot want the gory details. Yesterday, heading down the A38 to Bristol Parkway, I encounter the lovely Aztec West Roundabout. [URL]http://www.multimap.com/map/browse.cgi?client=public&X=360750&Y=183000&width=500&height=300&gride=&gridn=&srec=0&coordsys=gb&db=&addr1=&addr2=&addr3=&pc=&advanced=&local=&localinfosel=&kw=&inmap=&table=&ovtype=&zm=0&scale=5000&multimap.x=260&multimap.y=250[/URL] This roundabout has 3 lanes on traffic. I'm in Lane 2, following the rest of the traffic in the lane off down the A38, when, as if by magic, I'm collected by a little white Volvo 480 - one of these: [URL]http://www.volvo480register.nl/images/galery/c003esb.jpg[/URL] ....lovely! ....who is taking the long way round the roundabout. The Trophy goes West, while I continue in a southerly direction until I bounce off a sign. I finish up in the gutter, slightly worried by the fact that I can't actually inhale for maybe 15 or 20 seconds. And the rest, as they say, is Casualty... (police, ambulance, blue lights, trollies, drugs, x-rays, CT scans etc) Score, as posted previously, is LH clavicle, LH scapula, and LH ribs 2, 3 & 4. The plod showed up to do a breathalyser test. I pointed out that I a) had broken ribs, and b) was gasping into an oxygen mask, so I might not be able to supply an adequate sample. They saw my point and left me alone. By early afternoon, I was reasonably sorted and ready to go home. They decided to keep me in over night, and fitted me with an oxygen mask and a junk pump. This latter was one of these: [URL]http://www.marcalmedical.com/HTML/3300/index1.html[/URL] and was fully charged with morphine, and a pushbutton effort so I could deliver hits at will. By this time, I wasn't hurting, so apart from a couple of goes early on - to show willing, mostly - I didn't bother. I've no real fondness for recreational drugs. My blood drained out through the cannula into the delivery pipe, so it started to look like I had been fitted with a snotoiler. I spent the night mostly awake, and most of this morning persuading them to let me the fuck out of there. They wanted me to take all sorts of painkillers with me, including liquid morphine. "Cool" I said "I can flog that on ebay." "Err..." Anyway, I'm out of there, home, in an environment I control, which is much better. The Trophy's in a salvage yard in Avonmouth somewhere. I expect that, given its modest value, the cost of spares and the likely damage, it'll be a write-off. I don't expect to be able to make the EOSM now, at least not under my own steam. Right. I'm off down the cop shop with this producer...
