Everywhere is Broken Glass
Glinting and sharp, just waiting for us
I should have known to steer clear because I saw glints of light. But it was too late. I rode my bike across the carpet of glass shards.
I’d been out on a 26 mile journey and dodged three areas of shattered glass. Even as I rode on a few more yards past this patch, I knew the inevitable. The sluggish drag on the back wheel that meant I had a deflated inner tube.
Broken glass is everywhere. How dogs and cats don’t get more cuts is anyone’s guess.
I once found glass in a Pain Aux Raisin. Several pieces of it, just waiting to cut my mouth. I was lucky because on my first bite of the patisserie I felt a solid object and spat out the glass into my hand.
It’s a memory that reappears every time I eat a French pastry.
As a boy I broke two panes of glass with a football. Once at a friend’s house. A volley that went very wrong. My Dad had to pay the expense of a glazier.
‘Please don’t do it again’ he said calmly. It was at that point, I realised I would never be a footballer. Any well intentioned shot was bound to go the wrong way.
Another memory I have is watching my brother (a Marine cadet at the time) in a hall. He was standing to attention when a strip light…
