Car accident

I had a shock phone call today from a London hospital to say a good friend of mine, J, had been hit by a car while she was on a zebra crossing. Like me, she is a freelance writer, right in the middle of commissions, and she has had her elbow broken and is being operated on tomorrow.

She rang me herself from the hospital and asked me to come as her car needed moving from where she had left it, parked somewhere where there were restrictions and she could get fined or towed if the car wasn't moved by 9 am tomorrow. I don't drive. In fact, I felt bloody useless, but I managed to track down a mutual acquaintance who lived near the hospital (I live two hours away by public transport) and she kindly went to the hospital, collected car keys and door keys, moved the car, fed J's new cat that she adopted only a couple of weeks ago from the Mayhew Animal Sanctuary, and went back with J's mobile phone, nightdress, toothbrush, etc.

I have just taken on a massive editing job - a 100,000 word novel that needs cutting and tweaking and has to be done by next Tuesday. I may just have to do it on my laptop at J's place because she has damaged her ankle, too and lives a long hike from the shops. I feel so sorry for her. And guess what? She was on rollerblades at the time, on her way to skate on Hampstead Heath as she so often does. A bus stopped for her, then a car whizzed past the bus and hit J. At least the driver stopped. But it could have been so much worse. As it is, I can see her being crocked for ages. It's at times like this that I bitterly regret not driving and not being able to help more. But I've baked a batch of buns to take her and I shall fill my backpack with cat food. And take great care on zebra crossings...