As a boy, whenever I saw people in public laughing, I thought that they were laughing at me. it didnt matter that they were talking to one another and were not looking at me. I dont know what was wrong with me. 

This was a regular occurrence. It only happened outside the house; at home, there was the sanctuary of the bedroom, or the TV, to keep me occupied. 

TV was the great pacifier, as it was possible to consume, without concern as to whether it was being consumed in the ‘right’ way. Compare that to a game. With friends, yes, if there had been any. Whatever was being played would surely have a right and a wrong way to participate, but worrying about this shielded participation or led to questions. 

Endless questions. 

The time in the tree was golden. The other friends, acquaintances, school colleagues or classmates were there too. This was a final chance to join in, allowed only on the proviso of /not asking questions/.

The first question was of how were had got there, wherever there was, and where the ship was going. The others didnt see the importance of this need for information. Didnt understand that, without it, how could we ben playing /properly/. 

So that was it. Cast out of the game, and with indoor play not allowed there was only the rest of the scant green space to look around. Every break. Day after day. Term after term. 

Perhaps this happened before the worry about laughter. Perhaps it came after. There’s no way to know. But the pattern was there, concerns, worries, and watching from the outside.