Quite late to this...

My parents had a turbulent relationship, divorced when I was 6 and continued to bicker constantly until I was about 17 but finally got over it when I started to go south because of it.

Anyway, when I was 7, Dad took me on my first holiday without my mum. We went to Ireland to visit his aunts and cousins and stayed on his aunts farm, I spent the whole week running around with my distant cousins having a blast. It was around harvest time and one day my cousins and I went along with the older half of my dads family to "help" - generally piss about on the hay bales.

When they had loaded the hay onto the trailer, we decided we wanted to sit on the top for the ride home, super young and excited we didn't think about it being quite high. Im no farmer but the hay bales weren't secured properly / at all (?), so we come down a steep hill fairly slowly but there's a sharp corner at the end, leading to near 10 of us falling off the hay bales, with the hay following shortly after, into a ditch full of nettles. I dont remember the initial pain from the fall, I just remember coming to, like in a film, submerged in a ditch surrounded by kids screaming.

Got back to the house and told dad what had happened, he made sure I was ok etc but asked me to promise not to tell my mum, nearly 20 years later I still haven't. Didn't really understand at that age the significance of me telling her, but it could have made my relationship with my dad a lot different.

Same trip, my cousin fell through the roof of one of the barns and broke his leg...Dad again, don't tell your mum.

Realise this may make my dad sound like an ass, he's honestly the greatest guy I know, and I know I'm biased but seriously so glad I didn't tell my mum