The second memory.

It was stupid, really. A careless mistake. Or perhaps just eagerness to warm myself up.

I’d returned home just over an hour after I’d left that morning. The snow had granted me, and everyone else, a glorious day off. (The first of several that week!)

And what better way to celebrate than with a hot chocolate, piled high with marshmallows? None of this sachet-and-hot-water nonsense either. I was bringing out the big guns: Cadbury’s powder mixed with warm milk. As it should be.

But here’s the thing: it was a teeny kitchen, and I couldn’t be bothered faffing around with saucepans or extra jugs. So I poured the milk straight into my favourite mug and popped it in the microwave.

I don’t remember it being in there long. Maybe it was the gold-coated handle. Perhaps it had simply heated unevenly. But whatever it was, when I reached in to retrieve my mug, the pain was instant.

I’d managed to burn the outside of my right index finger, where it met the top of the handle. A sudden, sharp sting, the kind that steals your breath and makes your whole body flinch, spilling half the milk in the process.

Now, I’m fairly clumsy. Burns, bruises, scratch marks…I’ve always had a unique way of accumulating them. So I knew what to do when the inevitable happened, which in this case meant running the burn under cool water for at least 20 minutes…check!

But as the days passed, I noticed my finger wasn’t healing the way it usually would. I’d even been smothering it in Sudocrem, that magic potion that miraculously fixes all skin-related issues, but nothing changed. In fact, it started developing its own creamy-looking substance, and I swear it had a smell.

Of course, sometimes these things happen. It had been a particularly bad burn. Grabbing a fiercely hot mug handle with your bare hand isn’t going to be a gentle experience. So maybe that was all it was. Maybe that’s why it took so long to heal. 

Maybe.