1985 - 1887 Starting High School

All through my young school days I had long hair. The top and front was always pulled back into a pony tail so it was half up half down. I loved my long hair but hated the process of washing it, drying it and keeping it tangle free. So as I took over the responsibility of looking after it from my mother, I decided I'd had enough and had it all chopped off. That was a mistake. You see I have the weirdest crown on the top of my head, well actually it's two, maybe three. This means that my hair goes in all directions. Fine if you have it long, the weight of the hair pulls it down and for the most time it lays flat. Not so if you remove the weight of the hair. So I ended up with 'long' short hair. It was hideous.

At the time I thought I was ok. I certainly wasn't one of the cool kids, but I don't think we were victims of the media in quite the same way as we are now. I look back on photos of myself from this era and cringe. The dodgy haircut, the knee high white socks. I won't allow my kids to wear knee high white socks, they still make me shudder today. Mind you it's probably VERY fashionable now. So there I was, plodding along, being a nobody in particular but doing well at school.

Because my parents lived in the school boarding house they had no mortgage or bills to pay. This didn't mean we were spolit, in fact we weren't at all. I waited years for my first Sindy doll! My father is one of those people that is very good with money, and all the money they saved on the mortgage and bills was put away for when the time came to buy a house again. We never went on expensive holidays, my father was usually working anyway. We did get to Germany a couple of times, where I have a Godmother and up to Wales, or over to Kent. But it did mean that we maybe got one or two things that other kids didn't.

One day I decided that I could ride a horse, after probably only having sat on one a few times, and that I wanted to go on a riding holiday. My parents finally gave in to my demands and found someone that was willing to give me a few lessons to get me up to speed. I soon discovered I couldn't ride at all, but picked it up pretty quick. I went for my first riding holiday on Dartmoor and hated it! The pony I had been given was a gorgeous little palamino called Honey, every little girls dream pony. Except that she wouldn't GO! Because I didn't have the experience to make her go, I got left behind frequently and it turned into quite a lonely holiday.

I continued to ride after the holiday and got better and better. The lady that taught me rode Point to Point race horses for her father. One day she didn't have any ponies suitable for me to ride so she gave me one of the racehorses on a lunge. I found the difference in gait a little to much to handle and ended up simply sliding of the side! The last lesson I ever had there was the most memorable though. I don't remember the name of the pony, but she had a lovely, calm nature and was a pleasure to ride. My teacher was heading back to the house for something she had forgotten and I was starting to ride circles to warm the pony up. To this day I don't know what happened, my only guess is that something bit or stung her, or maybe the saddle pinched.

The pony launched into an incredible display of bronco style bucks and leaps and it wasn't long before I was flailing about without reins or stirrups. My teacher heard me call out and turned to see me turn a fine somersault in the air and land with a thud and a crunch. I had landed on my shoulder and was in a lot of pain.

I was again taken to hospital, I remember it well. The nurse that first checked me out wasn't really the sympathetic sort. She lifted my arm at the elbow and it didn't seem to hurt much so she let it drop. A burning pain seared through my shoulder. I go into shock quite easily, I'm quite good with emergency situations when someone else is involved but not so when it's me that's in pain. As I was led down to x-ray I began to feel sick and whoozy. Stood in front of the x-ray machine, I eventually fainted. When I came round it was like in the movies where everything is all blurry. All I could see was the face of the rather nice looking young radiologist who had somehow made it to me before my head hit the floor. I had the rest of my x-rays done lying down!

It was the first weekend of the summer holidays and I had broken my arm right at the top near the joint. Because of the position of the break they wouldn't plaster it, shoulders seize up easily so they wanted it to be free. All I had was a sling, and it was horrendous. The first night I was at home, I eventually went to sleep with plenty of painkillers, I slept fine, but when I woke I had moved into an awkward position and couldn't move. The next night I went to bed surrounded by pillows, well and truely wedged so I couldn't move again.

The whole summer was a nightmare, I couldn't do anything much because of how free the arm was. I did get myself stuck up that willow tree though, it must have been out of sheer boredom! My mother had to rescue me with a ladder! I still had my sling when I went back to school at the start of my second year (or year 8 as it is now). Going back to school like that was scary, I was forever terrified that someone would bash into me. I still have quite a bit of trouble with that shoulder even now. I have limited movement as a lot of scar tissue built up around the area. The doctors have told me it could be removed but would probably just grow back, so I decided to just get on with it.