My sister Elf’s son, my nephew, turned 4 years old today. I couldn’t visit his birthday unfortunately, as I had gone to bed at 7.30 in the morning with another night shift coming up. I slept from 7.30 to 8.15. Only that’s 7.30 AM and 8.15 PM. Something tells me the shift rota at Philips doesn’t suit me.

Elf and I had agreed to meet at Biessels, a pub in central Nijmegen. As usual, I went there by bicycle, furiously fast as ever. On St. Anne Street, depending on the traffic lights, I can sometimes reach a speed of nearly 40 kilometres an hour. Usually fast enough to outrun a moped. Not today. I hadn't noticed, but as I had just pulled away from a traffic light and started building speed, suddenly a moped came up from behind me and hit my bike hard enough for me fall backwards onto the pavement. Ouch. The two bastards on the Citta moped did stop, thankfully, to assess the damage. The rear pannier rack had bent onto the wheel, but I could bend it back and that seemed to be all. I asked the guy's number just in case and let him go. Spoke to a lady who'd watched it all from the pavement, and went merrily on my way. Well, with a sore bum. And a phone number that was a few digits short of being valid. Damn.