I rifled through some more old school things and found…what I think is meant to be art work. There’s no age on it, no explanation for why I’d made it, but clearly I had been committed to whatever it was- it had been bordered and everything.

It begins with an orange blob labelled “playdoh”; like so:


It then leads to a drawing of me holding the now obliterated “playdoh” as if I were weightlifting it, and a drawing of my own face, looking slightly murderous, with the ominous caption “I squashed it”. Behold:


I also seem to have given myself lopsided bunches parted by a bald spot.

The trio is rounded up with a depiction of a sad little orange lump, imprinted with the shape of my fist, with the statement “it looked like this”.


Not entirely sure why it had made such an impression on me that I’d felt the need to lay it out, bordered magnificently on a background the same colour as the departed mush as if foretelling some kind of play dough prophecy, but little me had obviously taken it very seriously- I’d used joined-up writing and everything.

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