My first crash was not technically a car crash but it was a ghastly thing that in a way changed the direction of my entire life. I was 15 and it was the last term at Eton. We’d had a lunch and as captain of the first XI cricket team I was allowed to ride a bicycle — a privilege granted to only a few boys. I set off towards Agar’s Plough for nets with my good friend John Squire riding along behind me.
As we were approaching a bridge I was talking over my shoulder, not looking where I was going. The next thing I know — slap! I went under the front wheels of a charabanc full of French Women’s Institute ladies.
As Blofeld’s website describes it he “gallantly took on a bus with his push bicycle and took no further interest in this world for 28 days”