There was carnage on the road this morning.

A lorry tipped over on its side at a crazy angle on the Tarmac, and several other cars trashed all around it.

Fortunately no-one seemed to be injured… as the vehicles were all just a few inches long, being of the Dinky-style vari-ety! I still had to steer round them, though, and wondered what happenstance had led to such a tragic waste of toy on one of our busiest commuter roads.

I was almost toast myself on the way in, as it happens. Twice.

First, a pedestrian, obviously in dreamland and his mind deep set on the little errand he had been sent on from the ga-rage he appeared to work in, nearly found himself under my bike wheels.

He had set off across the road ahead of me, and then abruptly changed his mind and turned back towards the pavement.

I slammed all on and skidded to a halt literally inches from his knees, swearing as I did so. Not like me, I know, but needs must sometimes.

As if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t even cast me even a cur-sory glance or acknowledge my presence or the near-painful encounter he had almost caused himself.

I was left open mouthed and speechless as he sauntered off back to his workplace… proba-bly to remind himself who had wanted a bacon buttie.

As if that wasn’t enough, barely 200 yards later a dustbin lorry (ok, I know they’ve got some other fancy name like waste disposal facility or something) nearly chewed me up as he in-dicated left and immediately turned right across my path.

Again, I had to slam all anchors on, and wonder at why indica-tors have to be deployed so late in a manoeuvre.

But I made it to work, counting my lucky stars.