So, getting on my bike, Mike, turned out to be rather good fun. And pretty useful.

Thanks to your support and generosity last year, I was able to raise well over £5,000 for the St John and the City Defibrillator Project, enough to fund and install four life-saving defibrillators:

1. On a tram (all 27 have one now);
2. At the Boardwalk Café on Cramond Promenade;
3. At the foot of the Scott Monument; and
4. In the Museum of Childhood on the Royal Mile

Due in no small part to the the tireless work of Lynn Cleal and others at St John Scotland, we now have well over 100 life-saving defibs installed in public places across Edinburgh – but we need more. Lots more.

There’s only thing for it: Get back on your bike, Mike.

Which is precisely what Morven and I will be doing on September 9 when we once again Pedal for Scotland.

My target this year is £2,500 – enough for a further two life-saving defibs.

I appreciate that many of you will have donated before, and I’m extremely grateful for that, but please consider doing so again.

It’s a cause very close to my heart.

Thank you x

My story…

If it had happened an hour earlier, it would have been in front of my four-year-old son, Joel. It was his birthday two days earlier and we were testing his brand new Spiderman bike along Cramond promenade.

As it was, I died in front of a man and his (sick) dog – and a group of exceptional ladies more used to saving the lives of stricken animals.

I had suffered a cardiac arrest (caused by undiagnosed cardiomyopathy) in Oak Tree Vets while buying some kidney-friendly cat food for the now dearly-departed Chewie.  

But for the quick-thinking of vet Henrietta Linnemann, her colleagues and, some time later, the first responder – keeping me going with CPR for 20 minutes until the ambulance arrived – I would have been, and would still be, a-goner. I owe them my life.

It took four shocks from the paramedics to get me back. If had been an older man, they would have stopped at three. Incidentally, there were no white lights, virgins or pearly gates. Indeed, I don’t remember a single thing about that morning. Thank goodness.

But those close to me certainly do – not least my wife Morven who had just found out we were expecting our second child (Mae) a few weeks earlier. She had no idea where I’d disappeared to and only found out that evening when a policeman came to the door. What has he done now..!?

You don’t need me to tell you how lucky I was. The odds of my surviving, my GP told me, were 5%, or, for the gamblers amongst you, 20–1. Fair to say, then, it was a long shot. And there had been no symptoms; no warning.

That was three years ago. My heart is now working as it should be and, according to my cardiologist, I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. But, just in case, I have an ICD (Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator) implanted into my chest in case of any future dramas. I should say that the care I have had from the NHS both at the time and since has been exceptional.

We visited Oak Tree on the first anniversary and they had already installed a defibrillator, put themselves through first aid refresher courses and one of the vets was running a half-marathon for the British Heart Foundation.

It got me thinking that it was high time that I got on my bike and did some fundraising to help others who end up flat on their back as I did – but who may not be lucky enough to have a guardian angel by their side.

I was in the right place at the right time. Please help me to ensure more people can be as lucky as I was. Or, at the very least, turn the odds a little more in their favour.