As any schoolboy, whatever his age, will tell you there is never a good time to fall off your bike. However it could be that just after persuading a mate, who happens to own a restaurant, that now is the time he should give you a solo harmonica gig, is one of the worst.
Richard the restaurateur had taken a little convincing in the first place. ‘You have done this before, haven’t you?’ he asked giving me a steely look. ‘Of course,’ I said, lying through my teeth, which at that point were fine, ‘loads of times.’ We fixed a date.
Two days later I found myself coming round on a wetly red and particularly unforgiving swathe of reconstituted granite paviours. The fun only got more intense when I noticed some hard material in my mouth. ‘Bits of pavement,’ I thought at first. And then, ‘Oh no, its bits of tooth.’
