A couple of days ago, one of my teachers from junior school, Martin Kirk, sent me a set of photos he'd taken from when he took us on a field trip when I was aged about ten or eleven.
It was really interesting to see all those faces from childhood, and interesting too that names suddenly came to mind - names hadn't thought about for almost thirty years: Mr M., Andrew, Ross, Sally, Nicola, Janet, Anne, Sue... and Sue again.
Martin said he couldn't see me there - too shy, he said, or not paying attention, or both. And when I looked at first I couldn't see me either, but then I did, in this one...
...the girl looking forward at the front.
I keep wondering what was going through my head just then, because I guess something was. In those days things that happened seemed to me to happen mysteriously, without reason; for instance in the class before this one there used to be regular tests. Week after week we would be asked 'How many yards in a mile?' and I would never know the answer. I think I expected it to come to me one day like rain on my face. I don't remember being aware of anything much else at all except, even then, I knew I loved to write.