I got up to go to the loo around 4am. In my semi-conscious state I barged into the toilet roll holder jutting out of the wall, and goudged my thigh open on the metal cover sheet. Think it might’ve warranted stitches but I had a first aid kit with me. I was reminded of the injuries with which I invariably returned home from camp or holiday as a teenager much to mum’s constant worry – they included a cricked neck (more than once) puncturing my thigh on a barb-wire fence, being attacked by a mad dog whilst holding some kittens, being bitten by a mad spaniel in France and undergoing a series of rabies injections, ripping my arm open having fallen off a moped in Ibiza… I thought I’d grown out of that phase…
Still, could’ve been worse: could’ve burnt my bottom on an electric fire and spent christmas day swathed in a nappy….. (Janice?)