Lying face down on the concrete driveway of a local service station is not my idea of fun. Picking myself up and struggling to come to terms with what had just happened, I somehow managed a smile. My mother was angry, I remember that. I had managed to open the rear door of the old Ford Prefect and had fallen from grace in my mother's eyes.
Startled, she lept from the front passenger seat of the old car clutching my baby brother in her arms, and as she made a scrambled attempt to determine my reason for depositing myself in such an ungodly mess, I began to realise that I actually did exist. .
Whether it was the bump on the head from the fall that had jogged my conscious into being, I am not sure, It may simply have been my first recollection of being someone.
I am three years old, and I quite like being here ...