Regression aggression

Scene set:

I am four years old and at a playgroup held at the college where my mum works. Mrs Nunn enters the playgroup area, perhaps to pick me up for lunch, or maybe just to say hello to a colleague.

She notices, on entering, that my friend Abi (who remains a friend to this day) is hitting me - quite hard on the leg - with a plastic hammer.

"What are you doing, Abi?" asks Mrs Nunn.

"I'm testing her reflexes," says the well-researched Abi.

"Laura, doesn't that hurt?" asks Mrs Nunn.

"Yeth," lisps my four-year old self.

"Well, why don't you ask her to stop?" Mrs Nunn enquires.

"Because she'th my fwiend," say I.

This story is told to me every time Mrs Nunn wants to illustrate what a wally I am. With Mrs Nunn's impeccable timing, this is usually in front of a boyfriend or a potential - or existing - employer. The thing I hate most about this story is the fact that Mrs Nunn always puts the lisp into the tale to imitates me every time she tells it. Which is often.

I think this is unfair. A) I don't ever remember having a lisp. A Yorkshire accent at that time, perhaps, but not a lisp. B) I was four years old. C) If she's going to mention the fact that I had a lisp, I'm going to mention the fact that she had a terrible 80s' haircut.

For years I'd spot a poodle in the street and think it was my mother.

Just had to get that off my chest.