It wasn't like I meant it ...
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My Dad was very squeamish. The mere sight of blood made him go all pale and wobbly. As kids, we knew this and used to ensure that we avoided him when sporting the latest in a very long line of childhood "ouchies".

But one day, Mum was shopping. Dad was in charge, and there was a football match on telly. Which he was desperate to watch. So when I asked if I could go out and play on my new roller skates, he agreed without any of the usual admonitions regarding safety. Yee hah!

Off I went, strapped on the skates (this was pre-roller blade days, and skates were big four wheeled jobs which weighed a ton) and headed for the street. I skated along the pavement and back. Did the same again. And again. Until I got bored.

I wanted to try turning in a circle on my skates, like I'd seen Robin Cousins do (overlooking the fact that his were ice skates and mine were not).

I looked around, and realised no-one was watching. I nipped out on to the road and started trying to circle. Which wasn't as easy as old Robin had made it look. I was so engrossed, I didn't hear the car coming.

When I didn't retreat to the pavement, the car driver tooted his horn to make me get the hell out of his way. I got such a fright I lost all sense of balance - and may well have pee-ed a little as well. I went over on my ankle, and tried to reach out and grab the hurty bit. Which was when my face slammed into the bumper of a parked car. The impact of face-on-bumper shoved my front teeth through my bottom lip. Profuse bleeding swiftly followed.

I stumbled back to the house, trying to catch the blood in my hand to keep it off my t shirt, and managed to get the skates off with one hand. I went into the kitchen, grabbed some kitchen roll, and did my best to stem the bleeding. With little success.

I eventually admitted defeat after what felt like a lifetime but was more than likely less than 5 minutes, and shouted for Dad.

He entered the kitchen to find his youngest child stood there, blood all over her face and clothing, and came as close to fainting as you can without actually passing out. He shouted on my brother to go and get our next-door neighbour. Thank the heavens, she wasn't at work. Even better, she was an A&E nurse (or Casualty as it was then known) and totally unfazed by the sight of so much blood.

She stemmed the bleeding, decided it didn't need stitches, and told my Dad to make sure he cleaned me up before my mother came home. And to rinse the clothes in cold water to get the blood out before it dried in.

When Mum came home, she didn't know who to bollock first. Dad, for letting me skate unsupervised (I'd only just learned to stay upright on the damn things) or me, for going onto the road when I knew that was absolutely forbidden. We spent a long night in the dog-house, Dad and I. Not for the first time, or the last.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 7 Aug 2008, 15:51, Reply)