I dropped half a brick on my left little finger in about 1971 playing on the rocks around Charlie's Garden, aged 4. It cropped up in conversation at the hospital last night, where I had a cricketing injury examined. The scar from the 5 stitches is still very visible, as is the fact that I've never been able to straighten that finger properly as an adult.
Fascinating to read the history of Mr Dockwray's cultivation - I'd always assumed it was a meaningless nickname.