People do write an awful lot of self-conscious things in this bit. So let’s stick to the facts.
-Aged 4 – I watched my uncle drag the foxy pups out from under the house with a rake. I was really pissed, because I wanted a go.
-Aged 7 – I used to spend quiet afternoons in the local hospital waiting area, eating Malt biscuits and watching Fat Albert. I wasn’t visiting anyone.
– Aged 8 – I convinced a classmate that I was abducted over the weekend. The police got involved. A white ute with red markings and a man who resembled Harry Dean Stanton were not found.
-Aged 9 – At a birthday party a girl fell over during a particular vigorous game of Musical cushions and broke her leg. In all the commotion, I decided to bring the attention back to me by walking up and down the corridor, chanting.
-Aged 10 – Stole my mother’s tea set from the kitchen and used that, and flowers out of surrounding gardens, to fake a raffle. No-one won anything and I kept all four dollars.
-Aged 11 – I got my period and foolishly told a friend about it. When I reached school the next day I was greeted with a group of boys yelling ‘Rambo! Firstblood!’ at me. I will hand it to them, it was comedy gold.
-Aged 13 – I realised that Chewbacca would not be the marrying kind. I then turned my attention to Sam Shepard, who at that stage would have been 46. I had no problem with this, and thought we would live a pleasant life in Carlton North, reading the Green Guide once a week.
-Aged 37 – Thought the narcissism had abated, then realised I’m writing a blog.