...In the summer term of 1967 I arrived at school as usual. The fastest runner in the school was challenging all comers to a race to the end of the playground and back. I was not a bad sprinter back then and the other kids encouraged me to have a go. I was given a 10 feet head start, just as the other challengers had. Someone did the "On your marks, get set - go", and I was away like the wind. The playground had a light downward slope so the journey to the bottom end was almost like flying. When I turned around to race back I noticed that my opponent had not caught up. If anything I had put some more distance between us. I was determined to win and put every ounce of energy into the return leg. As I neared the finish line I stole a glance behind me. My opponent was well beaten and he had given up about half way back. It was a glorious victory as I took the finish line. I was so pleased with myself that I completely failed to notice the idiot that stuck his leg out in front of me. With the momentum of my run and my attention elsewhere I fell heavily forward with my hands held out in front.

The pain in my right shoulder was excruciating. I vaguely recollect a whole bunch of kids crowded around me while I sat on the floor, cradling my right arm and screaming at the top of my lungs. Mrs Shepherd, the school secretary, took me into the school office and called for an ambulance.

 

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