I didn't grow up with English or Christmas or Santa or any of that stuff. I didn't start learning English until I was about 12 or so. So I don't remember any of that.
When I was 8 years old, I was watching TV one night and someone made a joke about the world ending. The year was 1984. I now realise it was a joke, but it gave me nightmares.
When I was 11 years old, I remember watching the Tiananmen Square Massacre on TV and thinking about those poor people.
But thanks to my grandma, I learned to read and write at a very young age - possibly about 3 or 4, if I recall. One time, I was sleeping over at my gran's (she was living in a shared apartment block), and she was downstairs, chatting with the neighbours, and telling them proudly how well I was doing.
One of the neighbours didn't believe her, and insisted on seeing me read. So, I was bundled out of bed, blinking in the overhead light (this was the early 80s), handed a picture book, and asked to read ... which I did.
So the neighbour said, "That's nothing. He could've been coached." He thrust a newspaper at me and commanded: "Read
this!"
I still had no idea what it was about, but I was brought up to be respectful, so I straightened the paper, cleared my throat, and in my best 4-year-old "newsreader voice", I started: "Today in Parliament, the Prime Minister said..."
There was an uproar. The neighbour's face was a picture. And I slept through the rest of the night, and given French toast and vanilla ice-cream in the morning.
Best. Morning. Ever.
