Because the most interesting things that happen to me each day tends to be what I pick from beneath my toenails, I've decided to relate some of my past tales of anti-glory, from my archive of tales of woe.
This week, I begin the telling of the 7 occasions that have sent me to hospital.
Sometime in 1984 - Cracked head open after falling out the back of a van.
Naturally I don't really remember what happened, but apparently I'd just learnt how to run and was darting around the back of my Dad's van (it wasn't moving) and just ran out the back and landed head first onto the gravel.
Sometime in 1985 - Cracked head open again.
My brother was chasing me around the showers of a swimming bath, so guess what happened? He's always had it in for me...
Sometime in 1988 - Growth pains.
Admitted to hospital where I lay in bed with my leg in a sling and raised due to the weight attached to it. I seem to remember that I was only supposed to be there for a few days, but this was extended for 2 weeks, I was not able to appear in the Christmas play, though I was out for Christmas. Didn't get a class card, but I good a hardback book about the nativity from the teacher, who I didn't like. She was called me stupid for colouring my hair in green in picture, not realising my colour vision deficiency.
Coming next week: The TB injection fiasco and the breaking of my arm during rugby lesson (not as cool as it sounds)
I am accepting request for tales of misfortune to be retold here should anybody have any favourites.