Experiencing life as a patient
Navin Chohan reaps the consequences of a drunken accident: a stay in hospital
“Last one to the lions pays the taxi fare home!” I shouted. We broke into a sprint towards Nelson's column and the next thing I knew was that I was flat on my back with a pain in my abdomen akin to having been hit with a sack of bowling balls.
I lay on the ground, trying to curl up into the lovely, protective fetal position while my companions strolled around, now (though not originally) rather more drunk than myself. It became clear that I'd man- aged to run, full pelt, into one of the big, thick bars that form the railing around the monuments in Trafalgar Square, I was now paying for my stupidity. “Oh, he's just winded,” they said. It's not that they weren't compassionate, but it did take an uncomfortable 15 minutes of lying prostrate before they decided it might be something worse than a sudden shock