​Have I ever broken anything?  Obviously, the answer must be yes.  There would be glasses, cups, plates.  Was there anything specific or significant?   I am having trouble remembering.

A dropped cup has chipped a tile, but this is small, and a cup can easily be replaced.  Nothing here worth writing about.

Two years ago, for a similar topic I wrote from our son’s perspective.  Since many to the group are new, I could read this as my contribution.  But surely there is something else.

I can remember being upset about broken…somethings.  I cannot remember what they were though.  So maybe not important somethings.

We do have a few small items that have been broken, and fixed.  There is a salt keeper that we bought in Austria, which was a pity.  It has been glued together and is now an ornament.  But it was not me who broke it.

There might have been a broken heart left behind.  There were some teenage relationships where I was the one to bring about the break up.  I am not convinced that anyone was left devastated by a break up of the relationship.

Breaking of records – no.  I have never been particularly athletic, so no records broken there.   I might have been the best in the “class” but cannot consider this a broken record.

There is of course the concept of a break down.  And I have had a car break down – three times, probably from the same underlying cause.  This was all around the cooling system of my first car, a Renault 10, back in the early 70s.  Which of the issues was the underlying cause I doubt anyone could confirm.  But the three issues were perished hoses causing leaks resulting in overheating, a blown head gasket and broken water pump.  The head gasket problem occurred on a trip from Melbourne to Adelaide with several friends.  There were 2-3 cars heading over for the weekend.  We did not make it, while the others continued without us.  The water pump problem occurred on a trip to Sydney.  We got as far as Chiltern, but at the time did not know the Hume Highway, and ended up with the RACV from Albury.  This was the end of our Sydney trip while we waited for a replacement water pump. 

So maybe I could say that I broke my car, three times!

Joy Shirley
​March 2019

​A story from our son’s perspective, with perhaps some “poetic licence”.

I was four years old when it happened.  Mum had gone out to a Tupperware party – she was a demonstrator, and went out 2-5 times a week.  Normally my sister and I went to our next-door neighbour if she had a party during the day, but for some reason that day, we went one house further down.

Sean was a year younger than me, and quite frankly, a pain.  I was normally quite happy to play with anyone, even letting other children take a toy I was playing with.  There was plenty to go around.  But this day Sean just could not leave me alone.  Everywhere I went, he followed.  He chased me around, so I hid behind the television set.  They were much bigger back then, and this one was on a small table.  Sean still would not leave me and in trying to get at me he pushed the television over.  It landed on my foot.  His mother came running when she heard my cry.  After checking the television was not broken, she realised that perhaps I had been injured in some way as I was still crying.

So, over the road she headed for a neighbour who had been a nurse.  She decided that there was no significant damage as I could still move my toes.  And another neighbour who had first aid qualifications agreed.

When Mum came home she was informed about the incident, and took me home to rest.  But my foot still hurt and I could not walk on it.  When Dad came home from work, they decided they should head to the hospital to get another opinion.  My first x-ray!  Yes, there was a hair line crack in one bone (or maybe it was two).  After some discussion, it was decided that they should put on some plaster as I was so young.  This would provide some support while the bones healed.  If I had been an adult, or at least old enough to be careful, they would only have strapped the foot.

​The next day, we were back at the hospital to have a heel added to the plaster.  I walked a bit funny for a few weeks while the plaster was on – and for a week or so after it came off while I got used to being without it.

​I had a third visit to the hospital to have a further x-ray before the doctor would take off the cast – and yes it was healed, after all it was only a hair line crack.  But the doctor gave the wrong instructions to the nurse as to how to cut off the cast, and it was a real battle – it hurt a lot.  But another doctor came in and saw what was happening.  He took over, and soon the cast was off, and all was well.
 
489 words