Whenever I trim my
toenails and try to tidy the horny bits of nail on my little toes I remember
the day my foot slipped on the pedal.
I used to ride and ride
everywhere I could around the farm. Around and around the large circular
driveway of almond trees, down to the chook yard and across to the cow shed.
My bike was red, possibly
a Malvern Star and almost definitely second hand. I don’t remember learning to
ride a bike and I'm sure I didn't ever have trainer wheels. It was just something I could always do (or thought I could.)
One day, pedalling fast,
my foot slipped on the metal pedal and ripped my little toenail.
Furious pedalling back to
the house, blood streaming from my foot, at age seven I imagine an emergency
trip to the hospital 17 miles away.
I finally reach home and
rush inside to Mum: she comforts me, bathes the foot with Dettol and bandages the
toe.
Emergency averted, all
over, no need for panic.
The toe healed, a new nail
grew but only a short while later the same thing happened again, this time to
the other foot.
19.10.13
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