This still affects me on a roughly two-yearly basis.
When I was nine or ten I was just big enough to ride my mum's bike, except it was a big ungainly thing and the handlebars were a bit wider than a teeny nine-year-old girl can handle.

This is how I came to smack into the pavement and relieve myself of a corner of one of my front teeth, that has cost me (well, since I was 18) pounds of dental surgery to replace the fillings when they fall off (most recently on a baguette when I was having a sophisticated lunch with a friend in a posh cafe on my campus). I live in fear of the damn thing deciding to dislodge itself (second only to having to wear my hated glasses) as it makes me look like a hobo.
( Maladicta, Sat 22 Dec 2007, 23:56, Reply)