Welcome to Cambridge

I got punched.

Right in the ribs, it hurt, it still does - I have a bruise.

6 years in London and the worst thing that ever happened to me was a scizophrenic man spat on me because of my accent. One week in Cambridge and I get assaulted on my bike, with my child on the back. So lame!

"What'd ya do?"

Nothing, I was biking along the road - decided to go to Jesus Green to get the child ice cream - and was in a particularly charming neighbourhood. In fact I was just looking around wondering if I should add this neighbourhood to my list of places I aspire to live in and before I could add it I came upon a woman, with a toy yorkshire terrier (I once memorised a book of dog breeds - you know my policy, don't ask and don't judge), trailing behind her two male "friends" who were down a pedestrian and cycle only path, ahead of her. She was shouting about the car being parked over there and they were disputing it. She was drunk and I was trying to go by her slowly and politely when she turned to me and recognised me. When I say she recognised me - that is to say she thought I was a) the mother who never loved her b) the teacher who failed her c) the cop that busted her - or d) a combination of all three. While she was planning her attack I was still wondering who she was, as she clearly "knew" me. Suddenly she turned her back to me and as I prepared to bike past she whipped back around, yeilding a plastic fork. "You don't like that, do you?" she demanded.

"No - who would?" I was now trying to determine the seriousness of this, was she a drunk playing a joke or was I about to get a nasty jab. I realised that it was the second and knew that I was stuck. I couldn't get past fast enough and she might jab the child, on the other hand it was a new sweater. I also couldn't decide where to go as her mates were at the bottom of the path - were they in on it, how would i get past them with a fork sticking out of my side? Thankfully, she realised that the fork was inadequate for the job and she threw it down and punched me in the ribs instead. I biked off before she could do it again, cursing my idiotic and impractical shoes.

As I approached the bottom of the path her friends asked, horrified if she had poked me with a stick. I said - no it was a fork and she didn't poke me, she punched me. They informed me that "she wasn't well" and I agreed and asked them to please stand the fuck back and if they fucking well tried anything they would fucking regret it.

They obliged, which was just as well because by regret it I meant that they might possibly have to bear witness to me screaming hysterically and crying and possibly bleeding on them if they had attacked me because I had no intention of fighting back.

My mother in law insisted that I inform the police, they were useless. We returned to the scene of the crime and I suggested they get the fork for fingerprints. I was met with blank faces in reply.