Two years ago I was having anxiety attacks at the mere thought of having to go to the swimming pool in my little Microcar along busy roads in this city where they drive like mad men. So rather than driving that short distance in 20 minutes I took the bus which took me 1.5 hours to and 1.5 hours traveling back.
Ever since I was a child I was fascinated by tube amplifiers, record players, type writers, hand wound wrist watches and sixties electrical model railways, you know, the kind with little electrical motors made by Hornby, Tri-ang, Märklin and such.
Of course my life as a teenager was not complete without a Wilson steam engine and when my mates got a computer for their birthday, a Sinclair MSX for example, I asked my parents for another book, some pieces of track for my railway or a new fountain pen. I loved the smell of that Pelikan ink pot, the sound of that little loco humming slowly on the tracks and as I had only a very few friends I spent many hours in my room in the attic of our terraced house.