But my attention was focused on a small blackboard, perched on an easel under the kitchen window. For some reason, now lost in the mists of time, I wanted to move it to the top end of the garden, and instead of shouting for help – much good that would have done on washday – I figured that I could carry it there myself.

Now, a thing to bear in mind is that this wasn't the modern, light, convenient chalkboard that you can pick up from Early Learning these days. This was an iron board a half inch thick, weighing roughly the same as a small car.

One surface was covered in a kind of black pitch and used for chalking, the other was a sort of green corrugated rust.

I had moved everything else to my new favourite spot, beside the greenhouse. It was just a case now of moving the board, so I formulated a plan. Stretching my arms in a kind of star formation, I tilted my head, and took hold of it, top and bottom, at opposite corners. Having got a good grip of it, I leaned back and lifted, taking the weight on my puffed out chest. So far, so good. It felt comfortable so I moved to stage two, turning my body in the direction of the lawn and slowly edging forwards in small careful steps. I walked and breathed in time, and stopped every few feet to recover.

At the lawn edge there was a small concrete slab forming a path and as I stepped on to it my foot caught the lip, causing me to stumble and drop the board, corner first, on to my big toe.

To this day I can feel the pain shooting up my leg and bursting through my body. I tried to cry and scream at the same time, but although my open mouth was moving, trembling, no sound came for about five seconds. When it did however, it took the form of a loud blood-curdling scream.

I ran limping around the garden shouting "I've brock mi tooer! I've - sob - brock - sob, mi too-oo-err!".

Mum recalled years later how, on hearing the scream, she stopped mangling and looked out of the window, to see me hopping, jumping and leaping, yelping at the top of my voice.

I alternately picked up my foot, and put it down again. I ran clockwise, then anti-clockwise, round the laburnum tree. I even ran to the top of the garden, twice around the green washpole, then backdown again, and despite my obvious pain, my antics made her laugh.

She stood back until I had stopped running and was now sobbing quietly, before coming out and giving me the TLC I so richly deserved.