Originally Posted by
Taunton Blue Genie
June 1976 changed my life. Decided to hitch-hike to see my brother in Germany and I have never been abroad before.
This was before the M25 was built and having got to New Cross around pub closing time I was stupidly still trying to find a lift to Dover.
I was attacked by two guys, one of whom picked up a nearby broken bottle and shoved it in my face. Fortunately, I quickly lifted my hand to guard my face and ended up with a severed vein and three severed finger tendons. Some parts of the bottle also caught the top of my head, my other hand and my chin.
They had pushed me into an alley and I could feel myself losing consciousness, which although a very pleasant feeling, would have resulted in my death and blood was shooting out of my hand in proectile fashion. I collected myself and staggered to the road where someone called an ambulance
I woke up in Greenwich hospital the following day with my face full of bruises, with a few minor cuts on my physog and my hand in plaster. I spent three days in hospital, walked to the nearby A2 and carried on hitching with my arm in a sling and with my face looking a mess.
A German couple in a Mercedes stopped and took me all the way to my the centre of my town where my brother lived. Peering into the closed police station a police car drew up to me - and pistol-packing policeman stopped and gave me a lift to my brother's house. I spent the whole of June getting fitter and running in the hot sun - and after meeting so many wonderful local people I decided to come home and learn their language.
By the way, despite losing a bit of my knuckle and and having the bottle-shaped scar on my hand, the nylon used to rejoin the tendons is still fully functional. Had my reactions been a split-second later my face would have got the brunt of it.
I ended up living in that town for a while and still have close connections to it.
That June 1976 for me.