Routemaster personal injury and the long journey home

Personal injury lawyers deal with all sorts of accidents, and as part of my passenger compensation claim research recently for the solicitor's firm I work for, I came across a story about how the good old London Routemaster bus could be getting a makeover form the sports car supremos at Aston Martin.

It's fair to say that bendy buses have been a blot on the capital's landscape since their introduction in 2005, and no-one wants to take a bendy bus shaped pencil sharpener home to Hong Kong after visiting London for a brief tourist sojourn. So, really it's a good thing that they're going.

One of the most recognisable features of the original iconic big red bus was its hop on/hop off platform at the back. This mode of boarding and disembarkation caused consternation among many, as it proved to be discriminatory to those less able, and yet it provided laughs-a-plenty on many occasion when used to comic effect in such stunts as the rollerskating prank in "Some Mother's do Have 'Em" and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you'll find a clip on YouTube.

And as I looked at the new designs for the bus I remembered an incident that occurred when I was a girl-about-town in London, many moons ago, in which I suffered a pretty horrific personal injury and a distinctly wounded sense of pride.

Night Bus nightmare
I had been out with friends and was catching the Night Bus from Trafalgar Square to my home at that time in Wood Green. I was with my flat-mate and a young man who I was rather taken with. We had enjoyed a great evening listening to jazz in a riverside pub, and the young man and I were getting along famously.

The three of us were happily waiting for our bus when my prospective beau went to get chips and, naturally, within moments of his leaving us along came the big red Routemaster. My flat-mate hopped on without a second thought. The beau, seeing the bus arrive, hastily shook salt and vinegar into his paper parcel and started to sprint towards the bus. My flat-mate yelled at me, "Get on, get on." And as the beau barged through drunken revellers in his attempt to reach the bus, I did just as she said.

The bus was picking up speed. The beau had abandoned his chips in a flurry of fried potato and newspaper, and was now running full pelt towards the platform at the back of the bus. I was standing rather precariously on the platform, leaning out into the road, shouting, "Come on. Faster!" and suddenly he lunged forward, with plaintive eyes, and stumbled into the road, crashing and rolling in a chip splattered heap.

Shame! I hear you cry. No! The shame was that without a moment's thought for my own safety I leapt off the platform into the road in a vain attempt to help him and thudded to the floor in the middle of the busy thoroughfare that is Trafalgar Square.

When I came to, a nice man in a paramedic's uniform was gingerly hoisting me to a sitting position and gently advising me that it was probably best if I accompanied him to the hospital.
My response was, "I want to go home, I need a cup of tea."

To cut a long story short I spent two days in University College Hospital having suffered a three inch fracture in my skull. It appeared that I had been protected from major brain injury by a fortunately placed pony tail that cushioned my head on the road surface and possibly saved my life.

I was very poorly, yet extremely lucky.

The beau, who had stayed until the wee hours, went off with my flat-mate and made inappropriate advances to her on their journey back to Wood Green, something I put down to him having seen me being very ill in A&E whilst wearing one of those smock things with no back to it; not a good look for a first date.

Anyway, I recovered from my self-inflicted personal injury well enough, although the brain injury did mean that everything, even toothpaste, smelt and tasted like burnt rubber for several months. And my flatmate was outraged at the nerve of the beau and told him just where he could stick his "curry next Saturday". We never saw him again.

Bring back the Routemaster, all is forgiven.

Can I claim?