Where to start?
First memory?
Ok, that would be me being bounced down 13 flights of stairs in the pram! We may have moved into a brand spanking new block of flats but that didnt mean the lift would ever work! Funny though cos we lived there for about eight years and my overriding memory is of being bounced down 13 flights of stair then pulled back up them after shopping. I was wheelchair bound quite often as I used to break my leg twice a year. My mum used to have arm muscles like Arnold Swarzenegger!
Having had no previous cases of brittle bones in our family, noone expected me to break my legs. In fact, doctors used to either move my leg up and down, telling me I had cramp! (Until the screaming told them otherwise). Or they tried to get me to grass up my parents as child batterers! Good old fashioned Queen Elizabeth Hospital, they really knew their stuff!!
This went on for a few years until I acutally broke my leg while in a hospital having a check up for a previous break! That showed them. No one could say my parents did it cos I was skipping into the department at the time.
Well doctors being the brainy sort with extensive knowledge of everything , (but not in those days)! decided to send me to Great Ormond Street Hospital. Operations were planned and metal pins were inserted. The doctor was a nice guy, but I think his stitching skills were taught to him by Dr Frankenstein, still in those days infections were unheard of so I was plastered up and sent home.
(The above post is extremly boring so I am off to think about how to make my next one a little bit interesting and/or funny).