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  • We were playing football in Ben's garden. As always, I was commenting on my own (and everyone else's) performance while we played; "beats one man, beats another, takes it round the keeper.... goal!"

    I wheeled away in triumph, arms outstretched, hands up, fingers apart as the imaginary crowd roared.

    I heard a twang. The back of my head hit the ground, I was flat on my back, my friends' faces looking down at me, something wet on my face. "Ooh, that looks serious", said Victoria.

    It must have been a slow afternoon in A&E when the nurse stitched my eyebrow back together, with my friends watching. "How did this happen?", she asked. "I ran into a clothesline", I sheepishly replied but in a voice loud enough to travel down the ward. From the cubicle next to mine, and opposite, and all along the row I heard half-repressed chuckles.

    I don't celebrate so much anymore when I score.
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