So here we are witnessing a fatal crash

Anthony and I had just come out of the RER train station St Michel. It was about 10.15, 10.30 this morning; we had just fetched his family at the airport and wanted to settle down on a sunny terrace for a while before accompanying them to where they were staying. The parents hadn't been to Paris for nearly twenty years and for their three kids it was a first, we were eagerly pointing out the Seine, and Notre Dame, and the beautiful weather to them in an eager and proud way. We heard sirens but didn't really register them as we strolled towards the long wide quai that runs parallel to the river. As we got nearer we saw a girl looking ill, held up by her boyfriend who was shouting "go back! don't look".

The human eye is not trained to obey another's concerns and our eyes were inevitably drawn to a lumpy blanket that lay just behind a large truck. A single foot bound in a strappy black sandal poked out. There was no other traffic other than an ambulance.

Human brain is candyfloss pink. It had fallen like splodges of ice cream at regular intervals over a few feet.

At the front of the truck, stuck in a bike shaped indent was a Velib', one of Paris' self service bikes. In its basket was a square black handbag.

This is the third Velib' death. The only comfort is that this lady would have died immediately, unlike the previous two. Not that it would have helped this victim, but when riding in the city remember to always wear a helmet. And be careful.