As a boy, one Sunday..
.. my mother was walking my brother and I to church. It was very bright and sunny day, and must have been in the summer. I was about 8. As we walked, a bee, the size of a Hercules transporter in a stripey jumper, came very close to my mother. My mother did the panic arm waving thing, and spooked me. I ran in the opposite direction, looking back at my mother. As I ran, I sensed my running coming to an abrupt halt, my vision gone black, and the noise and pain of all Armageddon bouncing round my head.

I had ran into a lamppost hitting my head against steel side on. I was lay on the ground with the budgies circling above my head.

I was no stranger to concussion, having had a mishap with a barking canine and a playground roundabout the summer previous. My mother knew the signs were not immediate and although I had some protestations we continued to church and she sat me down in a pew, with my head on her lap.

The sign of concussion that I remembered most was being sick within about an hour of the event. And so it was... as I lay there with my mother tenderly stroking my barnet, I could feel the stomach contents rise. Instintively I sat up and blurted my biscuits all over the pew in front, and whoever it was in their Sunday finery. I would have liked to think that it was timed to coincide with "All Things Bright and Beautiful" but that would be too much.

I know my head hurt for a week. Since then I have a fear of organised religion and buzzing insects.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 15:41, Reply)