In 1991 I was handed a blunt pencil and left alone. I searched for something to do, fingering the pencil in passing thought. It seemed like ages before I realised they had left me with a great tool. Slowly I took my first tentative steps into my imagination. It was a strange place, full of colourful ideas and concepts I was too young to understand. Panicking, I stepped out again. Before me was a story. Large printed handwriting did not do justice to what I had seen.
I would step into this world only occasionly in the years that followed, each time making a hasty retreat, but each time discovering something new.
Then on the 11th January 1999 at about 10:40 in the morning, I opened the door to the world of writing and stepped through. But this time I have not returned from this world, instead I have delved deeper and wandered further until at last I forgot where the door was and I was bound to the world of writing.