Some boozy malcontent, not satisfied with the simple pleasure of drunkenly plunging into Grafton Lake from the rocks, has left a green-glass land mine to cut into my tender foot and my fun.

The joke’s on him though, because unlike me, the girl who is taking pity on me and walking me back to my mother, has gone through puberty.

Her not-yet sunburned skin fills her bikini in a way I have only seen on posters, and she lets me lean against her to take some weight off my bleeding flesh.