Why I'm never going across Hackney Downs at night again

Last night I had one of the most terrifying experiences of my adult life. Yes, I have had a pretty sheltered existence but whevs, it was pretty friggin' scary and you're sat in a comfy office reading a blog you found on your Facebook newsfeed so let's not get judgey now.

I was cycling through Hackney Downs park at about 10pm when four young men (alright, MAYBE they were teenagers - I reiterate, don't get judgey) jumped out and blocked the path. I tried to swerve round them but they'd positioned themselves so I was forced to cycle into a wooden exercise bar on the opposite side of the path. I fell off my bike and, immediately sensing that they probably weren't just after a 35 year-old Jetstream with rainbow stripes, began to run. They began chasing me. When they realised they weren't going to catch me they stopped pursuing. I stopped, looked over my shoulder and they eventually began shouting after me to come back. They said they were "only messin" and that I could have my bike back. I know it sounds idiotic but I didn't want to just abandon my bike (or my faith in humanity). I cycle every day and I've spent about £500 on that shitheap over the years (despite - or perhaps because of - an initial purchase price of £60. Plus it has RAINBOW STRIPES, PEOPLE). I figured I'm fast and I could outrun them again if necessary. So I went back.

As I got closer one of them began pushing the bike towards me, like a peace offering. A Trojan horse, I suppose. But just as I got close to him two of the others cut across him. They turned to face me. There was a moment of horrible silence as they sized me up and then they began chasing me again. This time I had less of a lead on them and one of them was very fast. At one point I could feel him behind me, so close I was convinced he could have swiped me with the weapon he was doubtless carrying. I remember thinking "run like your life depends on it". And let's face it, it may have done.

Eventually I got clear enough to slow down and I heard the gang calling back the one who'd been closest to me. I walked to the edge of the park and dialled 999. I was told the police would be with me within 15 minutes. I waited outside a busy pub and cried like a baby.

Perhaps it goes without saying but the whole experience was absolutely fucking terrifying. I pride myself on trying to regularly do things that scare me: I do adventure sports, I go rock climbing, I frequently see Rhiannon first thing in the morning... but nothing can quite prepare you for the abject animal fear of being chased by a hostile human being who may actually kill you.

I waited for my 15 minutes but the police didn't arrive. I got a call telling me they'd be with me shortly but they were currently dealing with some suspects who matched the description I'd given. I waited another 15 minutes and, just as I was mentally cursing Cameron and his cuts, got another call to say they'd rounded up four suspects with my bike.

 [Before you think I'm going to let this opportunity to make a political point slide by, I will add that in the end I waited alone, in the cold, in shock, for 75 minutes for the police to arrive, during which time I watched four police vehicles drive past me, and in one of the five confused phone calls they made to me (thus necessitating me to make myself more of a mugging target) was asked if I could walk over to Stoke Newington Police station - a destination whose most efficient route would have taken me straight back across the park in which I'd just been mugged. When I gently mentioned this to the officer who took my statement there she was horrified and assured me that this was very much against protocol, but that they were stretched and it would never have happened before the cuts, when they had 60 officers a night on patrol - a figure now cut back to 24.] 

Still, ten out of ten for catching the thieves. (God knows how they did it - and no one at Stoke Newington Police Station seems to). And yes, the Jetstream and I are reunited to enjoy many more punctures and detached chains together. Needless to say it could all have been a helluvalot worse. The suspects are known to the police and had recently mugged, amongst others, a woman who was seven and a half months pregnant. I, luckily, am young (shut up, Leo) and fast. As the police officer put it, rather problematically, "maybe this will teach them to pick their victims more carefully in future". I nearly pointed out that I didn't think this was exactly the moral I wished to be taken from my experience but it was 1am and she was from Essex.

And they have been caught. Red handed. And will be appearing in court soon. Surely, this time, the justice system cannot fail me as spectacularly as it did the last time I appeared in court. Naturally, whatever happens, you can rely on one thing: I will be blogging the fuck out of it.