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.

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 – run 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.