It is a truth rarely acknowledged that if you fall off your bike the first thing you will say is “It’s okay, I’m alright!”.

When the Tour De France crashes in a cross wind and forty riders lie in a crumpled heap in the middle of a daffodil field they will all leap back up and try and get back on their bike, even the ones with a broken leg, a missing arm and no head. 

What is it about bike injuries that makes us ignore the fountain of blood arcing from our bloodied stumps?

I’ve fallen off my bike several times. I’ve had one passer-by force me to go to hospital yet the only thing I said to the casualty nurse was “I feel fine now!”.

I think it’s the shame factor. Falling off a bike is embarrassing so, when it happens, we try and cover up the shame by pretending everything is okay and there’s nothing to see. Please move on. Don’t call 999. I can stick my foot back on with a couple of plasters. 

I say this as last night, when walking the dog, a cyclist tried to cycle around us on a path, slid on a bit of mud, and then fell face first on the pavement in front of us. 

“Are you okay?” We asked. 

Which is also a stupid question. Of course they’re not okay. They’ve just face planted concrete paving. That’s going to hurt even as they say: “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

They said this as blood dripped down their face from their bloodied nose. 

“Are you sure?” 

Again, a stupid question. No one dripping blood is okay. Especially if it’s your own, and even more so if it’s someone else’s.

“Yes, I’m fine,” they said as they got back on the bike. 

“Would you like a tissue?” I asked, as I had a tissue in my pocket, albeit it was one that had been there for some time and had seen two colds worth of bogeys. 

“No,” they said, quite wisely. Who accepts a hankie from a stranger? It would be cleaner to lick the back seat of a bus.

“Okay,” I said, not sure of what else to do. In the Tour De France someone would give the injured rider a push as they start again but I thought this was not the time or the place or the moment to put my hand on their bum and give it a shove. 

“I’m fine,” they insisted before riding off, leaving a bloody blood breadcrumb trail behind them.

As they rode away, I looked at the spot they fell. We were on a path with a wall on one side and a fence on the other. The side of the path were covered in mud and, looking at it again, I could have left more room for them to pass. 

“Do you think we cause them to fall?” asked my wife.

“It’s okay, we’re alright.” I said.