Secondary Sources

The are a few stories about my childhood that sort of do the rounds and have become (for me at least) a kind of self-mythology. I have no real memory of these events, as they primarily occur between the ages of zero and three. Based upon the secondary source material I must assume that they were my best years.

I talked early. Weird early. I was taught by a flash card wielding toddler. I had a strange sense of humour. I was bald, I was tiny and I called my rocking horse Bucephalus.

My favourite is a story about a question I posed to my father, I'm not sure what age I am supposed to have been (three maybe) when I asked him:

"Is there a colour blacker than black?"

He replied that no, there was not, and inquired as to why I would ask such a question, no doubt as confused as you are.

I said:

"Because if there was a colour blacker than black, then you could paint your house that colour, and put black furniture in the house to brighten it up."

I then laughed (apparently) for a considerable amount of time. I still find it funny.