I stood groggily in front of the mirror this morning and for some reason noticed that line that runs perfectly horizontally across my nose about half way up.  Imperceptible except up close, it’s a memory carved into my beaker with an errant stick back on the driveway on Wolsely Street in Peterborough.

I remember getting clipped and cut and it was good enough to ugly me up for a few days.  Perfect placement really – below the eyes which would have been the ultimate serious injury and above the cakehole which might have cost me a few chicklets.