At about age 10, while helping Mum with the weeding I managed to stick a spine of the garden fork clean through my foot (right up near the base of the leg). Strangely enough, I felt no pain, and just stared bemused at the blood pouring forth. Got rushed to the doctor and patched up - extremely fortunate that I picked one of the few perfect points and missed anything serious (no lasting damage). Was packed off back home, and hobbled down to greet my father who had been off playing cricket. Got a symathetic hug, then he turned around to talk to mum, took one step back, and stepped right on my badly abused foot - he still had his cricket spikes on. I think you guys and gals in places like Holland and NY would have heard my anguished screams of pain - perhaps you remember them
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