When I was about 6 years old, my father got a job with a mining company. On that news we packed our stuff and left Pretoria for the mines of Bulembu, a town right in the middle of a vast forest stretching for miles and miles.
During the long journey I was ready to burst from the boredom and very much eager to escape the monotony of travelling. When we finally arrived I bolted out to see the place. Exploring the my new home in a timely manner, and unsuccessfully claiming my room. Then I boomed outside exploring the garden and as predicted getting in the way of my family and the movers. My mother encouraged me to make some friends in order to get me away from under her feet, so I did what any boy of that age would do and quickly found a friend to play with.
Til this day I can not remember how and why but we managed to find ourselves on top of a 'T-bar' washing line. Me on one end and my new friend on the other. We were chatting away and throwing a tennis ball at each other. Now I am sure you can predict what happened next but I am going to tell you anyhow. My friend threw the ball towards me, with his aim just off target. I stretched and tried to reach for the ball, losing my balance and grip from the bar and plummeted to the concrete floor. First smashing my arm and then whacking my face. Resulting in a nice shinning black eye and a broken arm.
My parents quickly found out where the doctors were and made an interesting first impression. Sorry! :P
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