Along time ago.......

Throughout people’s lives, starting at Junior School and carrying on to a lesser degree though the rest of their lives is the question: “what is your first memory?” to further the original plan of this (the many and varied ways I have hurt myself) I do not actually intend to talk about my first memory, instead my third.
My first memory is not wanting to give the headphones back on a plane (Singapore airlines Heathrow to Singapore 1988). My second memory is being stuck in a lift because I was too small to reach the buttons (Singapore 1988). My third memory is cracking open my skull on a door-handle with a jumper rapped round my head (UK 989). There are two things that have always stuck with me from this (excluding the pain factor) the first is seeing my own hand covering in my blood after putting it inside my head . The second is the impression that they stuck my head together with super-glue. I’m fairly sure they used something more sophisticated and medial (although super-glue was invented as a method of stopping bleeding in wounded soldiers in Vietnam [or so I am told])
The odd thing about these memories is that what I remember is not the pain, or how it affected me, it is how my parents reacted. I have come across a lot of people with abandonment issues etc. From situations similar to the first (being left in a lift) but other than the battered knees of the pair of blue work trousers worn by the man who returned me. The main thing remember is the happiness in my mother’s face when she got me back – that and being smothered by her as she tried to hug me to death. And my second memory ended with my dad driving me to hospital because i had hurt myself...to be fair in hindsight I would have preferred it if he had called an ambulance but, although I hate the phase and mock it a lot.....sometime the thought really does count.