At the moment I’m reading “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” which has me musing on the meaning of life. One thing I often ask myself is how different life might have been had I been diagnosed earlier. The signs were there but they probably thought I was just a low achiever. Why people didn’t think “what’s up” when it was clear I was struggling and being a nuisance in class. I used to chat incessantly, sing and copy the person next to me. I was utterly lost. I got diagnosed with Dyslexia at 8 and everyone thought that would be the answer. But even with extra help I was still way behind my peers. I’m measured as having a pretty high IQ so you can imagine my humiliation at being in remedial reading. Most of my contemporaries treated me as being a few sandwiches short of a picnic. My favourite thing to do was play. Me and my brother played huge games with Playmobil which would fill the living room floor. We had friends in the street so we used to play games with them. I loved long summer holiday nights with about ten of us playing baseball and talking. I wish those nights could have lasted forever but suddenly my friends didn’t want to play or “hang”. One told me we were older now we didn’t play games. I was gutted everyone had grown up but me!