So I'm walking around a large double-roomed Belgian restaurant, long snakes of people queuing for food are staring at me because I am naked (obviously), but I'm holding a scrunched-up tablecloth to my groin to protect my modesties.

In my other hand I am wheeling my bike around, I am distraught because the saddle has broken, coming away from the rails at the nose, the handlebars are loose, swinging freely around the steerer, and my white handlebar-tape is grubby, actually it's more than grubby, it's covered in black and brown stuff that might be cow-dung, but it's most probably dog-shit.

I wake up sweating, panicking about where I'm going to get a new saddle.