Wednesday
The driver admitted liability to their insurers immediately, the insurers asked me for an estimate of the cost of the damaged clothes, ideally with receipts. This is a bit tricky - I’ve got no idea. As you may have guessed from my Blog name, my physique is slightly unusual (think of a peeled, hard boiled egg with 4 cocktail sticks poked into it). As a result, most (but not all) of my suits are bespoke. I really couldn’t remember if this one was or not. It was from Austin Reed, which is now closed, so I couldn’t try to find something similar. So eventually a plucked a number out of the air in the range that I’d normally spend on a suit, with a bit more for the shirt. I sent the number off with a selection of photos.
The email from the insurers also said that they would cover any legal fees involved. I toyed with the idea of engaging a solicitor, but then figured that the advice I had already received was fine.
I dropped off the completed Police form at Wood Street Police Station, aware that by then I had hugely missed the 24 hour deadline required on the form. The same officer on the Front Desk repeated his surprise that this was necessary, they would simply post it to Beds, Cambs & Herts Traffic Police, who already have all the information from the Internet form. I had the feeling that was the last I would hear from the police. I assumed that the driver hadn’t reported it, which is an offence in itself, but probably not one that Police would have the resources to follow up.
With Easter approaching, I wasn’t expecting any more responses for a while, so we will pick up when either the insurers, or the police, respond.
To be continued....
Wednesday, 28 March 2018
Tuesday, 27 March 2018
Diary of a Road Accident Pt IV: getting better
Tuesday 27 March
I got to Wood Street Police Station in the City of London a little after 8am. The officer on the front desk told me that I should report it over the Internet, and was very surprised at the response from Beds, Cambs and Herts Traffic Police. I showed him the email they had sent me, and he produced a self-reporting form that seemed to ask exactly the same questions. I took the form away to complete at a free moment, with just this small piece worrying me slightly.
The Personal Injury Lawyer called as planned that afternoon. He was also surprised at the Police demand to attend a police station in person (I had forwarded him the email from the police). My main purpose of speaking to a solicitor was to see if an attempt to recover costs was a waste of time. He assured me that it wasn’t; but it was also simple enough to make an insurance claim if I had the registration number of the offending vehicle. He provided a website ( http://www.askmid.com/askmidenquiry.aspx) where I could find the driver’s insurance details for £4, and told me that this should cover the cost of the damaged clothes and possibly a compensation payment for my injuries.
I should also acknowledge a kind comment on my original post from Fifth Gear, pointing me to http://www.accident-claim-expert.co.uk/compensation-claim/civil-court-cases-uk.html, although by that time I had what I needed.
That evening I filled in the police paper form, and made an insurance claim against the driver as directed by the solicitor. Things were looking up.
To be continued...
I got to Wood Street Police Station in the City of London a little after 8am. The officer on the front desk told me that I should report it over the Internet, and was very surprised at the response from Beds, Cambs and Herts Traffic Police. I showed him the email they had sent me, and he produced a self-reporting form that seemed to ask exactly the same questions. I took the form away to complete at a free moment, with just this small piece worrying me slightly.
The Personal Injury Lawyer called as planned that afternoon. He was also surprised at the Police demand to attend a police station in person (I had forwarded him the email from the police). My main purpose of speaking to a solicitor was to see if an attempt to recover costs was a waste of time. He assured me that it wasn’t; but it was also simple enough to make an insurance claim if I had the registration number of the offending vehicle. He provided a website ( http://www.askmid.com/askmidenquiry.aspx) where I could find the driver’s insurance details for £4, and told me that this should cover the cost of the damaged clothes and possibly a compensation payment for my injuries.
I should also acknowledge a kind comment on my original post from Fifth Gear, pointing me to http://www.accident-claim-expert.co.uk/compensation-claim/civil-court-cases-uk.html, although by that time I had what I needed.
That evening I filled in the police paper form, and made an insurance claim against the driver as directed by the solicitor. Things were looking up.
To be continued...
Diary of a Road Accident Victim Pt III, a plan forms
Monday
After a miserable weekend of feeling sorry for myself, and then feeling irritated at myself for feeling sorry for myself at something pretty trivial, but furious at the unpunished carelessness of the driver, Monday started well. For I had not just a plan to make things better, but 2 plans.
Firstly, it occurred to me that the requirement to report the accident at my local police station didn’t necessarily mean the one nearest the accident. Working in Central London means there are plenty of open police stations around. It’s a different force, but it’s still police.
Secondly, I remembered that the London Cycling Campaign provides free legal advice to its members. I’m a member of the London Cycling Campaign, presumably I could use this.
I had a rather busy morning, so it was mid afternoon by the time I got to a desk to search for the nearest police station, only to find that it was right around the corner from the meeting I had just left. Never mind, it opens at 7.30 every day, so I’d just go in the next day.
The legal helpline for London Cycling Campaign members linked to a Personal Injury solicitor. I had vague reservations about this being one of those firms that call randomly to tell you that you’re due compensation for something or other, but arrange to speak to them the next day anyway.
At the end of Monday, my bruises weren’t going away, but I was definitely on the way to getting some justice.
To be cpntinued...
After a miserable weekend of feeling sorry for myself, and then feeling irritated at myself for feeling sorry for myself at something pretty trivial, but furious at the unpunished carelessness of the driver, Monday started well. For I had not just a plan to make things better, but 2 plans.
Firstly, it occurred to me that the requirement to report the accident at my local police station didn’t necessarily mean the one nearest the accident. Working in Central London means there are plenty of open police stations around. It’s a different force, but it’s still police.
Secondly, I remembered that the London Cycling Campaign provides free legal advice to its members. I’m a member of the London Cycling Campaign, presumably I could use this.
I had a rather busy morning, so it was mid afternoon by the time I got to a desk to search for the nearest police station, only to find that it was right around the corner from the meeting I had just left. Never mind, it opens at 7.30 every day, so I’d just go in the next day.
The legal helpline for London Cycling Campaign members linked to a Personal Injury solicitor. I had vague reservations about this being one of those firms that call randomly to tell you that you’re due compensation for something or other, but arrange to speak to them the next day anyway.
At the end of Monday, my bruises weren’t going away, but I was definitely on the way to getting some justice.
To be cpntinued...
Sunday, 25 March 2018
Diary of a Road Accident Pt II
Weekend 24/25 March
The day began merrily enough as family Saturdays often do. My daughter’s need for a new guide uniform seemed to override my need to sleep off the previous evening, so up we got. Overnight I had received an email from the police to tell me that I needed to report the accident in person at a police station rather than the internet. Slightly irritating, but I figured that a detour to the Police Counter in the Civic Centre wasn’t such an onerous chore.
Girl Guide depots are great, or at least, the St Albans one is. The volunteers are super enthusiastic, and knew exactly what we needed. They talked excitedly to my daughter about the fun of guiding, and we left there fully equipped and pretty chipper. We walked up the hill into town, and after a whizz round a few shops headed for the Civic Centre.
And that’s where it went wrong. The counter is only open from 10-12 on a Wednesday. No other days. This struck me as rather outrageous, how could I report it whilst the events are fresh in my mind if I have to wait 5 days for it to open? If there is no front counter to report things like this, why can’t the Police accept a phone or internet report? If I take half a day off work to report it, then I won’t get paid, adding lost wages to the existing costs of replacing clothes.
The day was a bit too busy to dwell on it, but I then lay awake that night stewing about the inequity of the situation. If I had been in a car rather than on a bike, the insurers would have sorted it out immediately. Why should I have cost and discomfort while the driver carries on as if nothing happened? Where else is the vulnerable party the least protected by the law? What other circumstance, other than boxing, is one person allowed to leave another with visible grazes and bruises without a penalty? It’s the driving equivalent of a studs up 2 footed tackle, there must be a driving equivalent of a red card.
I spent most of Sunday seething about it, and whingeing to anyone who innocently asked me how I was. By Sunday evening I had wound myself into a plethora of hate about the motoring community in general but whilst watching the children swim, calm descended, and I had 2 good ideas.
To be continued...
The day began merrily enough as family Saturdays often do. My daughter’s need for a new guide uniform seemed to override my need to sleep off the previous evening, so up we got. Overnight I had received an email from the police to tell me that I needed to report the accident in person at a police station rather than the internet. Slightly irritating, but I figured that a detour to the Police Counter in the Civic Centre wasn’t such an onerous chore.
Girl Guide depots are great, or at least, the St Albans one is. The volunteers are super enthusiastic, and knew exactly what we needed. They talked excitedly to my daughter about the fun of guiding, and we left there fully equipped and pretty chipper. We walked up the hill into town, and after a whizz round a few shops headed for the Civic Centre.
And that’s where it went wrong. The counter is only open from 10-12 on a Wednesday. No other days. This struck me as rather outrageous, how could I report it whilst the events are fresh in my mind if I have to wait 5 days for it to open? If there is no front counter to report things like this, why can’t the Police accept a phone or internet report? If I take half a day off work to report it, then I won’t get paid, adding lost wages to the existing costs of replacing clothes.
The day was a bit too busy to dwell on it, but I then lay awake that night stewing about the inequity of the situation. If I had been in a car rather than on a bike, the insurers would have sorted it out immediately. Why should I have cost and discomfort while the driver carries on as if nothing happened? Where else is the vulnerable party the least protected by the law? What other circumstance, other than boxing, is one person allowed to leave another with visible grazes and bruises without a penalty? It’s the driving equivalent of a studs up 2 footed tackle, there must be a driving equivalent of a red card.
I spent most of Sunday seething about it, and whingeing to anyone who innocently asked me how I was. By Sunday evening I had wound myself into a plethora of hate about the motoring community in general but whilst watching the children swim, calm descended, and I had 2 good ideas.
To be continued...
Saturday, 24 March 2018
Friday, 23 March 2018
Diary of a Road Accident
Friday 23 March
On Friday I was pottering along to work on my bicycle as usual. After the wintery conditions of the previous week, it was pleasantly warm and I was thinking spring wasn’t far away. A white taxi was coming the other way, and I remember thinking it looked really pristine in the clear air, when there was a sudden screech of tyres from it. A moment later I was aware of something large and dark immediately to my side. My instinct was that a cloud had covered the sun briefly, but seconds later I found myself lying in a puddle on the edge of the road. I lay still for a moment rather confused about how I had gone from a bicycle saddle to the road surface. I could feel various pains, mainly a twisted ankle, but nothing intense. I sat up to find 3 people running towards me, then some arms round me telling not to move. I think that was the moment I realised I had been run over.
Apart from the ankle I felt fine, and tried to stand up, but a woman’s voice (presumably belonging to the arms) told me that I had to stay where I was. Although I wasn’t sitting in the puddle by this stage, it certainly wasn’t a good place to make myself comfortable, and the impatient horns of queuing motorists persuaded the people around me that perhaps I should at least unblock the road. I stood up, and oddly the pain passed from my left ankle to the opposite elbow and knee. I looked down at them and my otherwise immaculate suit was heavily scuffed and torn down one side. My white shirt cuffs were a curious mixture of the crisp white that l’d left the house with, some sort of oily deposit from the puddle, and a bit of blood. It occurred to me that this was not a good look for a client meeting, so I figured I’d better go home and change.
The people around me identified themselves, there was the taxi driver and his passenger, he’d done an emergency stop to avoid a collision with the car overtaking me. There was the car driving behind who had seen the impact with a clear view, and there was the lady who explained that having committed to the overtake, she had needed to drive into me to complete it. She kindly offered to drive me home, but I felt I would be safer on my bike, and after straightening the handlebars, I pedalled slowly home.
Once home, I postponed my earliest meetings, got changed, washed my grazes, then as an afterthought photographed the damage. I then reported the incident to the police via their website, and headed back off to work. The whole thing could have been a lot worse, the only impact was discomfort, and the cost of new clothes. A very busy day's work following, then a jolly pleasant social evening distracted me from the whole business.
To be continued......
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