I have always found it difficult to say certain what my memories from my childhood are. Are memories learnt at a later age from overhearing our parents tell of our exploits? Well, there is a particular incident that I would love to claim as a genuine memory.
When I was three years old, I went to the post office with my mother she was going to buy some stamps. While she was served, I happened to notice a small stocking which was hanging from the counter. It was there collect contributions for a charity for blind. While back was turned, I took the stocking and emptied contents into my coat pocket. Of course, I was very young to know any better.
When it was realized what I done, everybody roared with laughter for my mother who was a little embarrassed. She immediately emptied the money back into the stocking and incidentally, a few pennies of my . One of the clerks was something of an amateur cartoonist and he made a drawing of me robbing an old lady. This cartoon displayed in the post office for the next couple of years.
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