The Hooded Flash

My job for the day coming up from Limehouse was to race ahead on the trusty Brompton and set the locks for Sara and our new chums on The Meg,
( it was only after the 2nd lock I discovered it was a lot quicker if you unfolded the bike first). The sun was out, the towpath crowded, and I was constantly being overtaken by quicker cyclists. Somewhere , on a particularly rough stretch of cobbled towpath between Haggerstown lock and Kingsland basin, a hooded flash overtook me, phone in hand, mind in neutral. What could possibly go wrong? I screeched to a halt, even the bike screeched to watch the hooded flash hit the floor. He rolled over in agony as we both watched his phone, the latest Apple fly-phone launch itself upwards. On its outward jounney it was positively balletic , twisting and somersaulting, it's screen glistening in the midday sun. On the way down? Not so much, more like a bar of soap ....
The gap between the edge of the towpath and the moored boat could not have been more than 4inches and you would think that on the basis of probability the fly-phone would come into contact with either, and judging from the Flash's reaction he thought so too, sorry friend , serves you right for ordering the stealth sonar fly-phone with the knitted steel cover. With unerring accuracy it disappeared into to murky waters of the regents canal with a dive Tom Daly would have been proud of.
The hooded Flash's whole world had disappeared and he was desperate to get it back. Putting your hand or any other part of your anatomy into the canal, especially round these parts, carries a government health warning (I know what I've pulled out of our propeller ) and now the Flash was up to his shoulder, which given the advances in medical science they may well eventually find a cure for the inevitable elbow mutation.
You will be pleased to know that the phone was recovered with the help of my windlass but the hooded Flash will be uncontactable for some time!

Location:The towpath