The first time I remember feeling embarrassment.

When I was about 4 or 5 I carried a vinegar bottle
around with me filled with beads (don't ask me why).
Even when we went out I would put it in the inside pocket of
my pink cape (I was reacting to having a boy's haircut at the time)
because I couldn't bear to be parted from it.

One day I was wearing my cape and swinging around in
Debenhams near a huge display of crockery, which was all on glass
shelves. And yep, you've guessed it.
There was an almighty 'crack!' and my vinegar bottle
caught one of the glass shelves and cracked it.
I stood there frozen, and the lowest shelf of crockery came
crashing down around me. Each shelf triggered the next, and
before I knew it £300 of Villeroy and Boch lay in smithereens
at my ankles. I burst into tears as I knew it was my fault.
My mum came rushing over her head practically spinning around
her eyes like laser beams burning into my little pocket
where my guilty vinegar bottle lay hidden. And still in one piece.

Until we got home that is.