My first memories

 The Purpose of this blog is to promote The Dyspraxia Foundation E book' "Dyspraxic Adults Surviving in a Non Dyspraxic World".  a self help book for dyspraxic adults. All proceeds go to the Dyspraxia Foundation adult support groups. Available on Amazon for £9.99

Todays Blog is about my early years of surviving in a non-dyspraxic world.

My parents Maurice and Joan Sheila Hyman were very proud parents because on the 27th May 1960.in Ashton Lake Hospital. Their pride soon diminished when I became a source of constant disappointment. I was a very small neonate a couple of months premature but I soon developed into a very chubby baby because I cried day and night my mum assumed I was hungry and responded by feeding me, which I accepted greedily, when I had had my fill, she could get some rest from my constant howling:  I learned to talk very early on in my development but did not learn to walk until I was18 months old.

My earliest memory of getting frustrated because my body did not do what do was when I was about three-and-a-half. I was colouring in teddies in a colouring-in book, I wanted it to look neat and stay within the lines of the picture but all I could do was scribble. Mrs Kelsall an old friend of my mothers told me that I was a clever girl. I was very surprised and did not see what was so clever about me covering a picture in purple scribble. Most 31/2  year olds would find colouring-in hard; this was the start of my life-long inferiority complex. I later learned to colour in  neatly by practising at home, where I would often get told off for not putting my toys away properly.

 Ballroom Dancing lessons

 When I had just turned four my parents were advised that My Brother Robin’s’ ‘difficulties with manual dexterity’ would improve with dance classes. We were made to go to ballroom dancing lessons at Denton Town Hall a fine example of 19^th Century architecture. Robin and I hated every moment of it and needless to say because we were both dancing partners, we did not make much progress because we both had two left feet when it came to dancing.

I had a habit of sucking my thumb if I did not have a sweet or chocolate in my mouth. I enjoyed chewing the plastic flowers and spitting out imitation plastic berries that decorated the ballroom with its glittering glass dome littering its thick piled red carpet. I was quite cute with dark brown curly hair and big brown eyes and the older girls made a big fuss of me and one school girl told me if I did note let her sit on my knee she would cry. I did not want to be seated on her lap but I did not understand the subtlety of emotional blackmail at that age  After the dancing a reward for were the dolly mixtures especially as Robin gave me his share as well as hated sweet things. Due to our lack of progress we did not have to I endure these boring and humiliating afternoons for long.

 Loud Bangs

As a child I was very nervous of loud noises and bangs and would cry if a balloon burst and on Bonfire Night I was terrified of the bangers which were by no means as loud as the ones today but I am in no doubt that the fireworks were much more colourful and pretty at that age. If anyone shouted at me or sang loudly I would instantly start sobbing. I hated being in the same room as a balloon in case they bust with a loud boom. I did not feel comfortable about this inflatable nightmare until I did the course for teaching adults with learning difficulties and had to sit under a parachute covered with them. I refused to wear woolly jumpers as found them scratchy and hated my Grandma’s brushed nylon sheets next to my skin when I stayed in her flat. My mum wasn’t very pleased when I refused to wear a smart navy blue suit because it was rough and made my skin crawl. To this day I am sensitive to rough fabrics and elastic and can’t stand wearing tights in warm weather.